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+Project Gutenberg's Evenings at Donaldson Manor, by Maria J. McIntosh
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Evenings at Donaldson Manor
+       Or, The Christmas Guest
+
+Author: Maria J. McIntosh
+
+Release Date: December 4, 2006 [EBook #20018]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK EVENINGS AT DONALDSON MANOR ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Ralph Janke and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This book was
+produced from scanned images of public domain material
+from the Google Print project.)
+
+
+
+
+
+Transcriber's note:
+
+Phrases enclosed in "_" are printed in italics style in the original
+Phrases enclosed in "=" are printed in bold style in the original
+Phrases that are printed in "small capitals" are converted into upper case
+
+
+
+
+Maria J. McIntosh's Works. _PUBLISHED BY D. APPLETON & CO_
+
+
+I. EVENINGS AT DONALDSON MANOR; OR, THE CHRISTMAS GUEST.
+
+BY MARIA J. McINTOSH.
+
+_Illustrated with Ten Steel Engravings, 8vo., cloth, gilt edges, $3;
+morocco, $4._
+
+     "The whole sparkle with strokes of pleasantry and lively criticism,
+     and ever and anon reveal most delightful pictures of fireside
+     groups. A high-toned morality pervades the whole. We feel sure that
+     the book will be a general favorite."--_Commercial Advertiser._
+
+     "It is a book that parents may buy for their children, brothers for
+     their sisters, or husbands for their wives, with the assurance that
+     the book will not only give pleasure, but convey lessons of love
+     and charity that can hardly fail to leave durable impressions of
+     moral and social duty upon the mind and heart of the
+     reader."--_Evening Mirror._
+
+
+II.
+
+WOMAN IN AMERICA; HER WORK AND HER REWARD.
+
+BY MARIA J. McINTOSH.
+
+_One Volume, 12mo., paper covers, 50c.; cloth, 75c._
+
+     "We like this work exceedingly, and our fair countrywomen will
+     admire it still more than we do. It is written in the true spirit,
+     and evinces extensive observation of society, a clear insight into
+     the evils surrounding and pressing down her sex, and a glorious
+     determination to expose and remove them. Read her work. She will
+     win a willing way to the heart and home of woman, and her mission
+     will be found to be one of beneficence and love. Truly, woman has
+     her work and her reward."--_American Spectator._
+
+     "We thank Miss McIntosh for her 'Woman in America.' She has written
+     a clever book, containing much good 'word and truth,' many valuable
+     thoughts and reflections, which ought to be carefully considered by
+     every American lady."--_Protestant Churchman._
+
+
+III.
+
+CHARMS AND COUNTER-CHARMS.
+
+BY MARIA J. McINTOSH.
+
+_One Volume, 12mo., cloth, $1; or in Two Parts, paper, 75c._
+
+     "This is one of those healthful, _truthful_ works of fiction, which
+     improve the heart and enlighten the judgment, whilst they furnish
+     amusement to the passing hour. The style is clear, easy and simple,
+     and the construction of the story artistic in a high degree. We
+     commend most cordially the book."--_Tribune._
+
+
+IV.
+
+TWO LIVES; OR, TO SEEM AND TO BE.
+
+BY MARIA J. McINTOSH.
+
+_One Volume, 12mo., paper covers, 50c.; cloth, 75c._
+
+     "The previous works of Miss McIntosh, although issued anonymously,
+     have been popular in the best sense of the word. The simple beauty
+     of her narratives, combining pure sentiment with high principle,
+     and noble views of life and its duties, ought to win for them a
+     hearing at every fireside in our land. We have rarely perused a
+     tale more interesting and instructive than the one before us, and
+     we commend it most cordially to the attention of all our
+     readers."--_Protestant Churchman._
+
+
+V.
+
+AUNT KITTY'S TALES.
+
+BY MARIA J. McINTOSH.
+
+_A new edition, complete in One Vol., 12mo., cloth, 75c.; paper, 50c._
+
+     This volume contains the following delightfully interesting
+     stories: "Blind Alice," "Jessie Graham," "Florence Arnott," "Grace
+     and Clara," "Ellen Leslie; or, the Reward of Self Control."
+
+
+
+
+POPULAR BOOKS FOR DOMESTIC READING =PUBLISHED BY D. APPLETON & CO.=
+
+Most of these volumes may be had in cloth, gilt edges, at 25 cts. per
+vol. extra.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+=GRACE AGUILAR'S WORKS.=
+
+  1. HOME SCENES AND HEART STUDIES. 12mo., cloth, 75 cents; paper
+    cover, 50 cents.
+
+  2. THE DAYS OF BRUCE. 2 vols. 12mo., cloth, $1.50.
+
+  3. THE WOMEN OF ISRAEL. 2 vols. 12mo., clo. $1.50, pap. $1.
+
+  4. THE MOTHER'S RECOMPENSE. 12mo., cloth, 75 cents; paper, 50
+    cents.
+
+  5. THE VALE OF CEDARS; or, the Martyr. 12mo., cloth, 75 cts.;
+    paper, 50 cts.
+
+  6. WOMAN'S FRIENDSHIP; a Domestic Story. 12mo., cloth, 75 cts.;
+    paper, 50 cts.
+
+
+=MRS. ELLIS'S LAST WORK.=
+
+  HEARTS AND HOMES; a Story. Two parts bound in 1 vol. 8vo., cloth,
+    $1.50; paper, $1.
+
+
+=MISS SEWELL'S WORKS.=
+
+  1. THE EARL'S DAUGHTER; a Tale. 12mo., cloth, 75 cts., paper, 50
+    cts.
+
+  2. GERTRUDE; a Tale. 1 vol. 12mo., cloth, 75 cts.; paper, 50 cts.
+
+  3. AMY HERBERT. 1 vol. 12mo., cloth, 75 cts.; paper, 50 cts.
+
+  4. MARGARET PERCIVAL. 2 vols. 12mo., cloth $1.50; paper, $1.
+
+  5. LANETON PARSONAGE. 3 vols. 12mo., clo., $2.25; pap., $1.50.
+
+  6. WALTER LORIMER, with other Tales. Illustrated. 12mo., cloth, 75
+    cts.; paper, 50 cts.
+
+  7. JOURNAL OF A SUMMER TOUR. 12mo., cloth, $1.
+
+  8. EXPERIENCE OF LIFE. 12mo. (Just ready.) Cloth, 75 cts.; paper,
+    50 cts.
+
+
+=MISS McINTOSH'S WORKS.=
+
+  1. EVENINGS AT DONALDSON MANOR. 12mo., clo., 75 cts.
+
+  2. TWO LIVES; or, To Seem and To Be: a Tale. 12mo., cloth, 75
+    cts.; paper, 50 cts.
+
+  3. AUNT KITTY'S TALES. 1 vol. 12mo., clo., 75 cts.; pap., 50 cts.
+
+  4. CHARMS AND COUNTER-CHARMS; a Tale. 1 vol. 12mo., cloth, $1;
+    paper, 75 cts.
+
+  5. WOMAN IN AMERICA. 12mo., cloth 62 cts.; paper, 50 cts.
+
+  6. THE LOFTY AND THE LOWLY. 2 vols. 12mo., cloth. (Just ready.)
+
+
+=JULIA KAVANAGH'S WORKS.=
+
+  1. DAISY BURNS. 1 vol. 12mo., cloth, or paper. (Just ready.)
+
+  2. MADELEINE; a Tale. 1 vol. 12mo., cloth, 75 cts.; paper, 50 cts.
+
+  3. NATHALIE; a Tale. 1 vol. 12mo., cloth, $1; paper, 75 cts.
+
+  4. WOMEN OF CHRISTIANITY. 1 vol. 12mo., cloth, 75 cts.
+
+
+=WORKS BY A. S. ROE.=
+
+  1. TO LOVE AND TO BE LOVED. 1 vol. 12mo., cloth, 63 cts.
+
+  2. JAMES MONTJOY. 1 vol. 12mo., cloth, 75 cts.; paper, 62 cts.
+
+  3. TIME AND TIDE. 1 vol. 12mo., 62 cts.; paper, 38 cts.
+
+
+=LADY FULLERTON.=
+
+  1. GRANTLEY MANOR; a Tale. 1 vol. 12mo., cloth, 75 cts.; paper,
+    50 cts.
+
+  2. ELLEN MIDDLETON; a Tale. 1 vol. 12mo., cloth, 75 cts.; paper,
+    50 cts.
+
+
+
+
+EVENINGS
+
+AT
+
+DONALDSON MANOR;
+
+OR,
+
+The Christmas Guest.
+
+
+
+BY MARIA J. McINTOSH,
+
+AUTHOR OF
+
+"TWO LIVES," "CHARMS AND COUNTER-CHARMS," ETC., ETC.
+
+
+
+A NEW REVISED EDITION.
+
+
+    "Oh Winter! ruler of the inverted year,
+    I crown thee king of intimate delights,
+    Fireside enjoyments, homeborn happiness."
+
+COWPER.
+
+NEW-YORK:
+D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, 200 BROADWAY,
+AND 16 LITTLE BRITAIN, LONDON.
+1853.
+
+
+
+
+PREFACE TO THE ENGLISH EDITION.
+
+
+In Miss McIntosh we fondly and proudly greet a transatlantic sister, and
+as delightedly introduce her, a "CHRISTMAS GUEST," to our own home
+circle. She is worthy of all honor and affection.
+
+Miss McIntosh's writings are eminently pure in feeling--tender,
+graceful, and elegant in manner. Their moral, simply and unstrainedly
+developed, is invariably excellent--generously exciting, stimulating,
+encouraging all the noblest energies of our nature. To use her own
+words, addressed to her friends in America, and with equal propriety may
+they be accepted by the rising generation, and by every grade of
+society, at every period of life, in her unforgotten fatherland--"From
+the examples she will present to them, they may learn that to the brave
+and true and faithful heart, 'all things are possible'--that he who
+clings to the good and the holy amidst temptation and trial, will find
+peace and light within him, though all without be storm and darkness;
+and that in a right understanding and unfaltering performance of
+duty--not in the pomps and pleasures of a self-indulgent life, lie our
+true glory and happiness."
+
+Not a tale, not a sketch, not an appeal to the heart or to the mind in
+any form, does our fair sister commit to paper, that is not pervaded,
+though unobtrusively, by a strain of the sweetest, gentlest, most
+cheerful and soul-elevating piety; it is hers at once to soothe, to
+charm, and to exhilarate.
+
+Our "CHRISTMAS GUEST" well knows how to furnish forth a feast of
+infinite variety. Few, if any, will arise from a perusal of her
+delightful "word-painting" of life, incident, adventure, and character,
+without being wiser, better, happier; without enjoying a more entire
+confidingness in Heaven--in HIM, that _God of love and goodness_, whom
+Christians unite to worship.
+
+LONDON, December 4, 1850.
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS.
+
+
+                                                             PAGE
+CHAPTER I.
+INTRODUCTORY,                                                  9
+
+CHAPTER II.
+"THE MAIN CHANCE,"                                            17
+
+CHAPTER III.
+THE CRADLE-SONG; A FREE TRANSLATION FROM KÖRNER,              35
+THE BROTHERS; OR, IN THE FASHION, AND ABOVE THE FASHION,      37
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+LOSS AND GAIN; OR, HEARTS VERSUS DIAMONDS,                    48
+
+CHAPTER V.
+THE BIRD'S RELEASE. BY MRS. HEMANS,                           70
+THE YOUNG MISANTHROPE,                                        72
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+LIFE IN AMERICA,                                              91
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+SUNDAY,                                                      126
+EVENING HYMN,                                                128
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+THE WOLF CHASE,                                              133
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+THE HISTORY OF AN OLD MAID,                                  140
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+THE FAMILY MEETING,                                          166
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+THE DYING HEBREW,                                            169
+"ONLY A MECHANIC,"                                           172
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+LOVE AND PRIDE,                                              196
+
+CHAPTER XIII.
+
+THE TEST OF LOVE. A STORY OF THE LAST WAR,                   227
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+
+THE FLOWER ANGELS,                                           266
+
+
+
+
+THE
+
+CHRISTMAS GUEST;
+
+OR,
+
+EVENINGS AT DONALDSON MANOR.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+
+The largest and the most picturesque country-house of all I know in
+America, is the mansion house of my friends, the Donaldsons. I would
+gladly inform the reader of its locality, but this Colonel Donaldson has
+positively prohibited, for a reason too flattering to my self-love to be
+resisted.
+
+"You know, my dear Madam,"--I give his own words, by which I hope the
+courteous reader will understand that I am really too modest even to
+seem to adopt the flattering sentiment they convey--"You know, my dear
+madam, that your description will be read by every body who is any body,
+and that through it my simple home will become classic ground. If I
+permit you to direct the tourist tribe to it, I shall be pestered out of
+my life when summer comes, by travelling artists, would-be poets, and
+romantic young ladies."
+
+I may not therefore, dear reader, tell you whether this pleasant abode
+be washed by the waves of the Atlantic or by the turbid current of the
+Mississippi; whether it be fanned by the flower-laden zephyrs of the
+South, or by the health-inspiring breezes of the North. The exterior
+must indeed have been left wholly to your imagination, had I not
+fortunately obtained a sketch from a young friend, an _amateur_ artist,
+of whom I shall have more to say presently. As I could not in honor
+present you with even this poor substitute, as I trust you will consider
+it, for my word-painting, without Colonel Donaldson's consent, I have
+been compelled, in deference to his wish, to divest the picture of every
+thing that would mark the geographical position of the place
+represented. The shape of its noble old trees we have been permitted to
+retain; but their foliage we have been obliged to render so
+indistinctly, that even Linnæus himself would find it impossible to
+decide whether it belonged to the elm of the North when clothed in all
+its summer luxuriance, or to the gigantic live-oak of the South. Even of
+the house itself we have been permitted to give but a rear view, lest
+the more marked features of the landscape in front should hint of its
+whereabouts. As to the figures which appear in the foreground of the
+picture, they are but figments of my young artist friend's imagination.
+One of them you may observe carries under the arm a sheaf of wheat, not
+a stalk of which I assure you ever grew on the Donaldson lands.
+
+Even from this imperfect picture of the exterior, you will perceive that
+the house is, as I have said, both large and picturesque. Within, the
+rooms go rambling about in such a strange fashion, that an unaccustomed
+guest attempting to make his way without a guide to the _chambre de
+nuit_ in which he had slept only the night before, would be very apt to
+find himself in the condition of a certain bird celebrated in nursery
+rhymes as wandering,
+
+    Up stairs and down stairs
+    And in the ladies' chambers.
+
+In this house have the Donaldsons lived and died for nearly two hundred
+years, and during all that time they have never failed to observe the
+Christmas with right genuine, old English hospitality. Then, their sons
+and their daughters, their men-servants and their maid-servants, and the
+stranger within their gates, felt the genial influence of their
+gratitude to Him who added year after year almost unbroken temporal
+prosperity to the priceless gift commemorated by that festival. At many
+of these _rëunions_ it has been my good fortune to be present. Indeed,
+though only "AUNT Nancy," by that courtesy which so often accords to the
+single sisterhood some endearing title, as a consolation, I presume, for
+the more honorable one of MRS. which their good or evil fortune has
+denied them, I have been ever received at Donaldson Manor as at my own
+familiar home; nor was it matter of surprise to myself or to our mutual
+friends, when the Col. and Mrs. Donaldson named their fourth daughter
+after me, modifying the old-fashioned Nancy, however, into its more
+agreeable synonyme of Annie.
+
+This daughter has been, of course, my peculiar pet. In truth, however,
+she has been scarcely less the peculiar pet of father and mother,
+brothers and sisters, friends and neighbors--sweet Annie Donaldson, as
+all unite in calling her, and certainly a sweeter, fresher bud of beauty
+never opened to the light than my name-child. And yet, reader, it may be
+that could I faithfully stamp her portrait on my page, you would exclaim
+at my taste, and declare there was no beauty in it. I will even
+acknowledge that you may be right, and that there is nothing
+artistically beautiful in the dark-gray eyes, the clear and healthy yet
+not dazzlingly fair complexion, the straight though glossy dark-brown
+hair, and the form, rounded and buoyant, but neither tall enough to be
+dignified nor _petite_ enough to be fairy-like. But sure I am that you
+could not know the spirit, gentle and playful yet lofty and earnest,
+which looks out from her eyes and speaks in her clear, silvery tones and
+graceful gestures, without feeling that Annie Donaldson is beautiful.
+Nor am I alone in this opinion. My friend Mr. Arlington fully agrees
+with me, as you would be convinced if you could see the admiring
+expression with which he gazes on her. As this gentleman cannot plead
+the Colonel's reason for any reserve respecting his place of residence,
+I shall not hesitate to inform the reader that he is a young lawyer of
+New-York, who has preserved, amidst much study and some business, the
+natural taste necessary to the enjoyment of country scenes and country
+sports. During those weeks of summer when New-York is deserted, alike by
+the wearied man of business and the _ennuyé_ idler, Mr. Arlington,
+instead of rushing with the latter to the overcrowded hotels of Saratoga
+and Newport, takes his gun and dog, his pencil and sketch-book, and with
+an agreeable companion, or, if this may not be, some choice books, as a
+resource against a rainy day, he goes to some wild spot--the wilder the
+better--where he roves at will from point to point of interest and
+beauty, and spends his time in reading, sketching, and--alas, for human
+imperfection!--shooting. These vagrant habits first brought him into the
+neighborhood of Donaldson Manor, and he had for two successive summers
+hunted with the Colonel and sketched with the young ladies, when he was
+invited to join their Christmas party in 18--. Here I was introduced to
+him, and in a few days we were the best friends in the world.
+
+Mr. Arlington's sketch-book, of which I have already spoken, served to
+elicit one of our points of sympathy. Bound down by the iron chain of
+necessity to that point of space occupied by my own land, and that point
+of time filled by my own life, yet with a heart longing for acquaintance
+with the beautiful distant and the noble past, I have ever loved the
+creations of that art which furnished food to these longings; and as my
+fortune has denied me the possession of fine _paintings_, I have become
+somewhat noted in my own little circle for my collection of fine
+_engravings_. Many of these have peculiar charms for me, from their
+association, fancied or real, with some place or person that does
+interest or has interested me. In the leisure of a solitary life, it has
+amused me to append to these engravings a description of the scenes or a
+narrative of the incidents which they suggested to my mind, and for
+their association with which I particularly valued them. Annie was well
+aware of the existence of these descriptions and narratives, and, with a
+pretty despotism which she often exercises over those she loves, she
+insisted that I should surrender them to her for the gratification of
+the assembled party. One condition only was I permitted to make in this
+surrender, and this was, that Mr. Arlington should also bring forth his
+portfolio for inspection, and should describe the _locale_ of the scene
+sketched, or relate the circumstances under which the sketches were
+made. A pretty _ruse_ this, my gentle Annie, by which you furnished the
+artist with an opportunity to display to others the talents which had
+charmed yourself. In accordance with this compact, the drawings, with
+their accompanying narratives, were produced, and received with such
+approbation, that by the same sweet tyranny which drew them from their
+hiding-places, we have been ordered to send this Christmas Guest to bear
+the simple stories to other houses, with the hope that they may give
+equal pleasure to their inmates.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+
+Merrily blazed the wood fire in the huge old chimney of the large parlor
+in which we were accustomed to assemble in the evening, at Donaldson
+Manor, and its light was thrown upon faces bright with good-humored
+merriment, yet not without some touch of deeper and more earnest
+feeling. That party would of itself have made an interesting picture.
+There was Col. Donaldson, tall, gaunt, his figure slightly bent, yet
+evincing no feebleness, his curling snow-white locks, his broad bold
+forehead, and shaggy brows overhanging eyes beaming with kindness.
+Beside him sat Mrs. Donaldson, still beautiful in her green old age. Her
+face was usually pale, yet her clear complexion, and the bright eyes
+that looked out from beneath the rich Valenciennes border of her cap,
+redeemed it from the appearance of ill health. Her form, stately yet
+inclining to _embonpoint_, was shown to advantage by the soft folds of
+the rich and glossy satin dress which ordinarily, at mid-day, took the
+place in summer of her cambric morning-dress, and in winter of her
+cashmere _robe de chambre_. Mrs. Donaldson has a piece of fancy netting
+which she reserves for her evening work, because, she says, it does not
+make much demand upon her eyes. This the mischievous and privileged
+Annie calls "Penelope's Web," declaring, that whatever is done on it in
+the evening is undone the next morning. Around the table, on which the
+brightest lights were placed for the convenience of those who would
+read or sew, clustered the two married daughters of the house--who
+always return to their "_home_," as they still continue to call
+Donaldson Manor, for the Christmas holidays--Annie, Mr. Arlington, and
+myself. Miss Donaldson, the eldest daughter of my worthy friends, is the
+housekeeper of the family, and usually sits quietly beside her mother,
+somewhat fatigued probably by the active employments of her day. The two
+sons of Col. Donaldson, the elder of whom is only twenty-three, his
+sons-in-law, and his grandson, Robert Dudley, a fine lad of twelve, give
+animation to the scene by moving hither and thither, now joining our
+group at the table, now discussing in a corner the amusements of
+to-morrow, and now entertaining us with a graphic account of to-day's
+adventures, of the sleighs upset, or the skating-matches won.
+
+Such was the party assembled little more than a week before Christmas
+the last year, when Annie called upon Mr. Arlington and myself to redeem
+the pledges we had given, and surrender our portfolios to her. Some
+slight contention arose between us on the question who should first
+contribute to the entertainment of the company; Mr. Arlington exclaiming
+"_Place aux Dames_," and I contending that there was great want of
+chivalry in thus putting a woman into the front of the battle. This
+little dispute was terminated by the proposal that Annie having been
+blindfolded to secure impartial justice, the two portfolios should be
+placed on the table, and she should choose, not only from which of them
+our entertainment should be drawn, but the very subject that should
+furnish it. Mr. Arlington vehemently applauded this proposal, and then
+urged that he must himself tie the handkerchief, as no one else, he
+feared, would make it an effectual blind. Annie submitted to his demand,
+though she professed to feel great indignation at his implied doubt of
+her honesty. No one else, we believe, would have taken so much time for
+the disposal of this screen, or been so careful in the arrangement of
+the bands of hair over which, or through which, the handkerchief was
+passed; and the touch of no other hand, perhaps, would have called up so
+bright a color to the cheeks, and even to the brow, of our sweet Annie.
+When permitted to exercise her office, Annie, to my great pleasure,
+without an instant's hesitation, while a mischievous little smile played
+at the corners of her mouth, placed her hand on Mr. Arlington's
+portfolio, and drew from it a paper, which, on being exhibited, was
+found to contain the pencilled outline of many heads grouped together in
+various positions, some being apparently elevated considerably above the
+others.
+
+"Ah, Miss Annie!" exclaimed Mr. Arlington, with considerable
+satisfaction apparent in his voice and manner, "you must try again, and
+I think I must trouble you, ladies, for another handkerchief. This seems
+to me to have been scarcely thick enough."
+
+"I appeal to the company," cried Annie, "whether this is in accordance
+with Mr. Arlington's engagement. Was he not to accept any thing I should
+draw from his portfolio as the foundation of his sketch?"
+
+"Ay, ay," was responded from every part of the room.
+
+"But pray, my good friends," persisted Mr. Arlington, "observe the
+impossibility of compliance with your demand. How can I possibly hope to
+entertain you by any thing based upon that memento of an idle hour in
+court, which I should long ago have destroyed, had I not fancied that I
+could detect in those sketchy outlines--those mere profiles--very
+accurate likenesses of the heads for which they were taken?"
+
+"Those heads look as though they might have histories attached to them,"
+said Annie, as she bent to examine them more narrowly.
+
+"Histories indeed they have," said Mr. Arlington.
+
+"Give them to us," suggested Col. Donaldson.
+
+"You have them already. These are all men whose histories are as well
+known to the public as to their own families. There is the elder K----,
+at once so simple in heart and so acute in mind. Cannot you read both in
+his face? There is his son; and there is D. B. O----, and O. H----, and
+G----, and J----. What can I tell you of any of them that you do not
+know already?"
+
+"Who are these?" asked Annie, pointing to two heads, placed somewhat
+aloof from the rest, and near each other. "That older face is so
+benevolent in its expression, and the younger has so noble a
+physiognomy, and looks with such reverence on his companion, that I am
+persuaded they have a history beyond that which belongs to the world. Is
+it not so?"
+
+"It is. Those are Mr. Cavendish and Herbert Latimer. They have a
+history, and I will give it you if you desire it, though, thus
+impromptu, I must do it very imperfectly I fear."
+
+"No apologies," said Col. Donaldson. "Begin, and do your best; no one
+can do more."
+
+"Than _my_ best," said Mr. Arlington, with a smile, "thank you. My
+narrative will have at least one recommendation--truth--as I have
+received its incidents from Latimer himself."
+
+Without further preliminary, Mr. Arlington commenced the relation of the
+following circumstances, which he has since written out, by Annie's
+request, at somewhat greater length for insertion here, giving it the
+title of
+
+
+THE MAIN CHANCE.
+
+Herbert Latimer was only twenty when, having passed the usual
+examination, he was admitted, by a special act of the legislative
+assembly of his native State, to practise at the bar. Young as he was,
+he had already experienced some of the severest vicissitudes of life.
+His father had been a bold, and for many years a successful merchant,
+and the young Herbert, his only child, had been born and nurtured in the
+lap of wealth and luxury. He was only sixteen--a boy--but a boy full of
+the noble aspirations and lofty hopes that make manhood honorable, when
+his father died. Mr. Latimer's last illness had been probably rendered
+fatal by the intense anxiety of mind he endured while awaiting
+intelligence of the result of a mercantile operation, on which, contrary
+to the cautious habits of his earlier years, he had risked well nigh all
+he possessed. He did not live to learn that it had completely failed,
+and that his wife and child were left with what would have seemed to him
+the merest pittance for their support.
+
+The character and talents of young Latimer were well known to his
+father's friends, and more than one among them offered him a clerkship
+on what could not but be considered as very advantageous terms. To these
+offers Herbert listened with painful indecision. For himself, he would
+have suffered cheerfully any privation, rather than relinquish the
+career which his inclinations had prompted, and with which were
+connected all his glowing visions of the future--but his mother--had he
+a right to refuse what would enable her to preserve all her accustomed
+elegances and indulgences?
+
+"You must be aware, Master Latimer," said he who had made him the most
+liberal offers, and who saw him hesitating on their acceptance, "you
+must be aware that only my friendship for your father could induce me to
+offer such terms to so young a man, howsoever capable. Three hundred
+dollars this year, five hundred the next, if you give satisfaction in
+the performance of your duties, a thousand dollars after that till you
+are of age, and then a share in the business equal to one-fourth of its
+profits--these are terms, sir, which I would offer to no one else. Your
+father was a friend to me, sir, and I would be a friend to his son."
+
+"I feel your kindness and liberality, sir."
+
+"And yet you hesitate?"
+
+"Will you permit me, sir, to ask till to-morrow for consideration? I
+must consult my mother."
+
+"That is right, young man; that is right. She knows something of life,
+and will, I doubt not, advise you to close with so unexceptionable an
+offer."
+
+"Whatever she may advise, sir, be assured I will do."
+
+"I have no doubt then, sir, that I shall see you to-morrow prepared to
+take your place in my store. Good morning."
+
+Assuming as cheerful an air as he could, Herbert went from this
+interview to his mother's sitting room. Mrs. Latimer raised her eyes to
+his as he entered, and reading with a mother's quick perception the
+disturbance of his mind, she asked him in a tone of alarm, "What is the
+matter, Herbert?"
+
+"Only a very pleasant matter, mother," said Herbert, with forced
+cheerfulness, which he endeavored to preserve while relating the offer
+just received.
+
+"And would you relinquish the study of the law, Herbert?" inquired Mrs.
+Latimer.
+
+"Not if I could help it, mother; but you know Mr. Woodleigh told you
+that five hundred dollars a year was the utmost that he could hope to
+save for you. If I study law, it must be several years before I can add
+any thing to this sum--I may even be compelled----" The features of
+Herbert worked, tears rushed to his eyes, and he turned away, unable to
+speak the thought that distressed him.
+
+"You speak of what can be saved for _me_, Herbert--of what _you_ may be
+compelled to do. Do you suppose that we can have separate interests in
+this question?--are not your hopes my hopes--will not your success, your
+triumph, be mine too? The only consideration for us, it seems to me, is
+whether the profession you have chosen and the prospects open to you in
+it, are worth some present sacrifice."
+
+"They are worth every sacrifice on my part--but you, mother----"
+
+"Have no separate interest from my child--I have shared all your hopes,
+all your aspirations, Herbert, and it would cost me less to live on
+bread and water, to dress coarsely, and lodge hardly for the next five
+years, than to yield my anticipations of your future success."
+
+Others had felt _for_ Herbert, and had offered to aid him, and he had
+turned from them with a deeper sense of his need and diminished
+confidence in his own powers--his mother felt _with_ him, and he was
+cheered and strengthened. The offers of the friendly merchant were
+gratefully declined. By the sale of her jewels, Mrs. Latimer obtained
+the sum necessary to meet the expenses incident to her son's first
+entrance on his professional studies. She then appropriated three
+hundred dollars of their little income to his support in the city, and
+withdrew herself to the country, where, she said, the remaining two
+hundred would supply all her wants. When Herbert would have remonstrated
+against these arrangements, she reminded him that they were intended to
+accomplish her own wishes no less than his. He ceased to remonstrate,
+but he did what was better--he acted--and the very first year, by
+self-denying economy and industry, he was enabled to return to her fifty
+dollars of the amount she had allotted to him. The second year he did
+better, and the third year Mrs. Latimer was able to return to the city
+and board at the same house with her son. It was only by the joy she
+expressed at their re-union that Herbert learned how painful the
+separation had been to her. She would not waste his strength and her own
+in vain lamentation over a necessary evil. Four years sufficed to
+prepare Herbert Latimer for his profession, and through the influence of
+some of his mother's early friends, exerted at her earnest request, the
+legislative act which permitted his entrance on its duties, was passed.
+The knowledge of his circumstances had excited a warm interest for him
+in many minds, and they who heard his name for the first time, when he
+stood before them for examination, could not but feel prepossessed in
+favor of the youth, on whose bold brow deep and lofty thoughts had left
+their impress, and in whose grave, earnest eyes the spirit seer might
+have read the history of a life of endurance and silent struggle. All
+were interested in him--all evinced that interest by gentle courtesy of
+manner--and almost all seemed desirous to make his examination as light
+as possible--all save one--one usually as remarkable for his indulgence
+to young aspirants, as for the legal acumen and extensive knowledge,
+which had won for him a large share of the profits and honors of his
+profession. His associates now wondered to find him so rigidly exact in
+his trial of young Latimer's acquirements.
+
+"You were very severe on our young tyro to-day," said a brother lawyer,
+and one on whom early associations and similarity of pursuits, rather
+than of tastes, had conferred the privileges of a friend on Mr.
+Cavendish, as they walked together from the court-house.
+
+"I saw that he did not need indulgence, and I gave him an opportunity of
+proving to others that he did not--but I had another and more selfish
+reason for my rigid test of his powers."
+
+Mr. Cavendish spoke smilingly, and his friend was emboldened to
+ask--"And pray what selfish motive could you have for it!"
+
+"I wished to see whether he would suit me as a partner."
+
+"A partner!"
+
+"Yes--when a man has lived for half a century, he begins to think that
+he may possibly grow old some day, and I would provide myself with a
+young partner, who may take the laboring oar in my business when age
+compels me to lay it aside."
+
+"All that may do very well--I have some thought of doing the same
+myself; but I shall look out for a young man who is well connected.
+Connections do a great deal for us, you know, and we must always have an
+eye to the main chance."
+
+"I agree with you, but we should probably differ about what constitutes
+the main chance."
+
+"There surely can be no difference about that; it means with every one
+the one thing needful."
+
+"And what is, in your opinion, the one thing needful?"
+
+"Why this, to be sure," and Mr. Duffield drew his purse from his pocket,
+and shook it playfully.
+
+"A somewhat different use of the term from that which the Bible makes,"
+said Mr. Cavendish.
+
+"Oh! let the Bible alone, and let me hear what you think of it."
+
+"Pardon me, I cannot let the Bible alone if I tell you my own opinions,
+for from the Bible I learned them."
+
+"It seems a strange book, I must say, to consult for a law of
+partnerships."
+
+"Had you a better acquaintance with it, Duffield, you would learn that
+its principles apply to all the relations of life. The difference
+between us is, that when you estimate man's chief object, or as you call
+it, his 'main chance,' you take only the present into view, you leave
+out of sight altogether the interminable future, with its higher hopes
+and deeper interests, and relations of immeasurably greater importance."
+
+"I find it enough for one poor brain to calculate for the present."
+
+"A great deal too much you will find it, if you leave out of your sum
+so important an item as the relations of that present to the future.
+Depend on it, Duffield, that he makes the most for this life, as well as
+for the next, of his time, his talents, and his wealth, who uses them as
+God's steward, for the happiness of his fellow-creatures, as well as for
+his own."
+
+"And so, for the happiness of your fellow-creatures, you are going to
+give away half of the best practice in the State?"
+
+"I am going to do no such thing. In the first place, I did not tell you
+that I was going to offer young Latimer an equal division of the profits
+of my practice; and for what I may offer him I have already taken care
+to ascertain that he can return a full equivalent. His talents need only
+a vantage-ground on which to act, and I rejoice to be able to give him
+that which my own early experience taught me to value."
+
+"Well--we shall see ten years hence how your rule and mine work. I think
+I shall offer a partnership to young Conway--he is already rising in his
+profession, and is connected with some of our wealthiest families."
+
+"Very well--we shall see."
+
+Herbert Latimer had nerved himself to endure five, or it might be ten
+more years of profitless toil, ere he should gain a position which would
+make his talents available for more than the mere essentials of
+existence. Let those who have looked on so dreary a prospect--who have
+buckled on their armor for such a combat--judge of the grateful emotion
+with which he received the generous proposal of Mr. Cavendish. This
+proposal, while it gave him at once an opportunity for the exercise of
+his powers, secured to him for the first year one-fifth, for the two
+following years one-fourth, and after that, if neither partner chose to
+withdraw from the connection, one-half of the profits of a business, the
+receipts of which had for several years averaged over ten thousand
+dollars. Mr. Cavendish soon found that he had done well to trust to the
+gratitude of his young partner for inducing the most active exercise of
+his powers. Stimulated by the desire to prove himself not unworthy of
+such kindness, and to secure his generous friend from any loss, Herbert
+never overlooked aught that could advance the interests, nor grew weary
+of any task that could lighten the toil of Mr. Cavendish.
+
+"Herbert, you really make me ashamed of myself, you are so constantly
+busy that I seem idle in comparison," said Mr. Cavendish, as he prepared
+one day to lay by his papers and leave the office at three o'clock.
+"Pray put away those musty books, and bring Mrs. Latimer to dine with
+us--this is a fête day with us. My daughter, who has been for two months
+with her uncle and aunt in Washington, has returned, and I want to
+introduce her to Mrs. Latimer."
+
+"My mother will come to you with pleasure, I am sure."
+
+"And you?"
+
+"Will come too, if I possibly can. You dine at five?"
+
+"Yes--and remember punctuality is the soul of dinner as well as of
+business. So do not let the charms of Coke upon Lyttleton make you
+forget that fair ladies and hungry gentlemen are expecting you." Mr.
+Cavendish closed the door with a smiling face, and Herbert Latimer
+turned for another hour to his books and papers. At a quarter before
+five he stood with his mother in the drawing-room of Mr. Cavendish, and
+received his first introduction to one who soon became the star of his
+life.
+
+Mary Cavendish was not beautiful--far less could the word pretty have
+been applied to her--but she was lovely. All that we most love in woman,
+all pure and peaceful thoughts, all sweet and gentle affections, seemed
+to beam from her eyes, or to sit throned upon her fair and open brow.
+She had enjoyed all the advantages, as it is termed, of a fashionable
+education, but the influences of her home had been more powerful than
+those of her school, and she remained what nature had made her--a
+warm-hearted, truthful, generous, and gentle girl--too ingenuous for the
+pretty affectations, too generous for the heartless coquetries which too
+often teach us that the _accomplished_ young lady has sacrificed, for
+her external refinement, qualities of a nobler stamp and more delicate
+beauty. The only daughter among several children, she was an idol in her
+home, and every movement of her life seemed impelled by the desire to
+repay the wealth of affection that was lavished upon her. It was
+impossible to see such a being daily in the intimacy of her home
+associations--the sphere in which her gentle spirit shone most
+brightly--without loving her; and Herbert soon felt that he loved her,
+yet he added in his thoughts "in all honor," and to him it would have
+seemed little honorable to attempt to win this priceless treasure from
+him to whose generosity he had owed his place in her circle. Mrs.
+Latimer, though she did not fear for her son's honor, trembled for his
+future peace as she marked the sadness which often stole over him, after
+spending an hour in the society of this lovely girl; but Mrs. Latimer
+was a wise woman--she knew that speech is to such emotions often as the
+lighted match to a magazine, and she kept silence.
+
+For almost a year after his introduction, Herbert continued in daily
+intercourse with Mary Cavendish to drink fresh draughts of love, yet so
+carefully did he guard his manner, that no suspicion of his warmer
+emotions threw a shadow over her friendship, or checked the frankness
+with which she unveiled to him the rich treasures of her mind and heart.
+It was in the autumn succeeding their first acquaintance that Mr. and
+Mrs. Cavendish issued cards for a large party at their house. It would
+be too gay a scene for the quiet taste of Mrs. Latimer, but Herbert
+would be there, and at the request of Mrs. Cavendish he promised to come
+early. The promise was kept. He arrived half an hour at least before
+any other guest, bringing with him a bouquet of rare and beautiful
+flowers for Mary. As he entered the hall he heard a slight scream from
+the parlor beside whose open door he stood. The scream was in a voice to
+whose lightest tone his heart responded, and in an instant, he was
+beside Mary Cavendish, had clasped her in his arms, and pressing her
+closely to his person, was endeavoring to extinguish with his hands the
+flames that enveloped her. The evening was cold: there was a fire in the
+stove, before which Mary stood arranging some flowers on the
+mantel-piece, when the door was opened for him. The sudden rush of air
+had wafted her light, floating drapery of gauze and lace into the fire,
+and in a moment all was in a blaze. Fortunate was it for her, that under
+this light, flimsy drapery, was worn a dress of stouter texture and less
+combustible material--a rich satin. After the slight scream which had
+brought him to her side, Mary uttered no sound, and with his whole soul
+concentrated on action, he had been equally silent till the last spark
+was smothered. Then gazing wildly in her pallid face he exclaimed, "In
+mercy speak to me! Did I come too late? Are you burned?"
+
+"I scarcely know--I think not," she faltered out. Then, as she made an
+effort to withdraw from his arms, added quickly--"no--not at all."
+
+Completely overpowered by the revulsion of feeling which those words
+occasioned, Herbert clasped her again in his arms, and fervently
+ejaculating, "Thank God!" pressed his lips to her cheek. At that moment,
+the voice of Mr. Cavendish was heard in the next room, and breaking from
+him, Mary rushed to her astonished father, and burying her face in his
+bosom, burst into tears. Aroused to full consciousness by the presence
+of another, Herbert stood trembling and dismayed at the remembrance of
+his own rashness. Agitated as she was, Mary was compelled to answer her
+father's questions, for he seemed wholly unable to speak.
+
+"Latimer, I owe my child's life probably to you. How shall I repay the
+debt?" cried Mr. Cavendish, attempting, as he spoke, to clasp Herbert's
+hand. He winced at the touch, and a sudden contraction passed over his
+face.
+
+"You are burned," said Mr. Cavendish, and would have examined his hand,
+but throwing his handkerchief over it, Herbert declared it was not worth
+mentioning, though at the same time he confessed that the pain was
+sufficient to make him desirous to return home, and have some soothing
+application made to it. Mr. Cavendish parted from him with regret, with
+earnest charges that he should take care of himself, and equally earnest
+hopes that he might be sufficiently relieved to return to them before
+the evening was passed; but Mary still lay in her father's arms, with
+her face hidden, and noticed Herbert's departure neither by word nor
+look.
+
+"I have outraged her delicacy, and she cannot bear even to see me," he
+said to himself.
+
+In passing out he accidentally trod on the flowers which he had selected
+with such care--"Crushed like my own heart!" he ejaculated mentally.
+
+A fortnight passed before Herbert Latimer could take his accustomed
+place in the office of Mr. Cavendish. His hand had been deeply
+burned--so deeply that the pain had produced fever. During this period
+of suffering, Mr. Cavendish had often visited him, and Mrs. Cavendish
+had more than once taken his mother's place at his bedside; but Herbert
+found little pleasure in their attentions, for he said to himself, "If
+they knew all my presumption, they would be less kind."
+
+His illness passed away, his hand healed, and he resumed his accustomed
+avocations; but no invitation, however urgent, could win him again to
+the house of Mr. Cavendish. "I have proved my own weakness--I will not
+place myself again in the way of temptation," was the language of his
+heart. Apologies became awkward. He felt that he must seem to his friend
+ungracious if not ungrateful; and one day observing unusual seriousness
+in the countenance of Mr. Cavendish on his declining an invitation to
+dine with him, he exclaimed, "You look displeased, and I can hardly
+wonder at it; but could you know my reason for denying myself the
+pleasure of visiting you, I am sure you would think me right."
+
+"Perhaps so; but as I do not know it, you cannot be surprised that your
+determined withdrawal from our circle should wound both my feelings and
+those of my family."
+
+Herbert covered his eyes with his hand for a moment, and then turning
+them with a grave and even sad expression on Mr. Cavendish, said, "I
+have declined your invitations only because I could not accept them with
+honor: I love your daughter--I have loved her almost from the first hour
+of my acquaintance with her."
+
+"And why have you not told me so before, Herbert?" asked Mr. Cavendish,
+with no anger in his tones.
+
+"Because I believed myself capable of loving in silence, and while I
+wronged no one, I was willing to indulge in the sweet poison of her
+society; but a moment of danger to her destroyed my self-control. What
+has been may be again--I have learned to distrust myself--I cannot
+tamper with temptation, lest I should one day use the position in which
+you have placed me, and the advantages which you have bestowed on me, in
+endeavoring to win from you a treasure which you may well be reluctant
+to yield to me."
+
+"Herbert, I only blame you for not having spoken to me sooner of this."
+
+"I feel now that I should have done so--it was a want of
+self-knowledge, the rash confidence of one untried which kept me
+silent."
+
+"No, Herbert--it was a want of knowledge of me--of confidence in my
+justice--I will not say my kindness. What higher views do you suppose I
+can entertain for my daughter, than to make her the wife of one who has
+a prospect of obtaining the most distinguished eminence in my own
+profession."
+
+"If that prospect be mine, to you I owe it--could I make it a plea for
+asking more?"
+
+"You owe what I did for you to the interest and esteem excited by your
+own qualities, and all I did has only given you a place for the exercise
+of those qualities--I do not know how you will win Mary's forgiveness
+for refraining from her society on such slight grounds."
+
+"Dare I hope for your permission to seek that forgiveness?"
+
+"Dare I hope for your company to dinner to-day?"
+
+"Now that you know all, nothing could give so much pleasure--though I
+fear----"
+
+"What, fearing again!"
+
+"I fear that Miss Cavendish is very much displeased with me."
+
+"For saving her life?"
+
+"No--not exactly that."
+
+Herbert Latimer did not confide the cause of his fear to Mr. Cavendish,
+neither did he suffer it to interfere with his visit on that day. He
+went to dinner, but stayed to tea, and long after, and as Mary was his
+companion for much, if not all of this time, we presume that her
+displeasure could not have been manifested in any very serious manner.
+
+It was about six weeks after this renewal of his visits that Mr.
+Duffield meeting his friend Mr. Cavendish one morning, accosted him
+with, "I hear that your daughter is going to be married to young
+Latimer--is it true?"
+
+"Yes, and I heartily wish the affair were over, for I hope Herbert will
+recover his senses when he is actually married, as now I am obliged to
+attend to his business and my own too."
+
+"Not much profit in that, I should think--I manage somewhat
+differently."
+
+"Did you not tell me that you intended forming a partnership with young
+Conway?"
+
+"Yes--but before I had done so, I heard that Sprague, who is as well
+connected as Conway, and a great deal more industrious, would go into
+business with me on less exacting terms. He has been associated with me
+for some time. He does all the drudgery of the business, and is content
+with one-eighth of the profits for five years."
+
+"Those are low terms--with talent and connection too, I should think he
+could have done better."
+
+"Why, you see his connections were of little use to him while he was
+alone, for he was so desperately poor that they did not like to
+acknowledge him, but I knew as soon as he began to rise they would all
+notice him, and so it has proved. I have no doubt I shall gain through
+them more than the thousand dollars a-year which Sprague will draw,
+while I shall be saved every thing that is really disagreeable or
+laborious in my practice; and you give two thousand dollars a-year, and
+are to have your daughter married to a gentleman who leaves all the
+business on your hands--which of us, do you think, has attended most
+successfully to the main chance?"
+
+"According to my views of the main chance, it is not to be determined by
+such data--but even in your own view we may have a very different
+account to render nine years hence?"
+
+"Ah, well! Ten years from the day that Latimer passed we will compare
+notes."
+
+Ten years are long in prospective, but it seemed to both parties only a
+short time when the appointed anniversary came. On that day Mr.
+Cavendish invited several of his brother lawyers, and amongst them Mr.
+Duffield, to dinner. Herbert Latimer, his wife and mother, his two noble
+boys, and though last, not least in importance, if in size, his little
+girl, her grandfather's especial pet, were of the party. It was a well
+assorted party. The guests found good cheer and social converse--the
+cherished friends of the house, food for deeper and higher enjoyment
+When the ladies had withdrawn, calling Herbert Latimer to the head of
+the table, Mr. Cavendish seated himself beside Mr. Duffield.
+
+"Well, Duffield!" he exclaimed, "do you know that it is ten years to-day
+since Herbert Latimer stood before us for examination?"
+
+"Ah!" ejaculated Mr. Duffield, in the tone of one who did not care to
+pursue the subject further.
+
+"You remember our agreement--are you still willing to make our success
+in that time a test of the truth of our respective principles?"
+
+"It may afford a more conclusive proof of your better judgment in the
+selection of an associate."
+
+"Sprague stands very high in his profession."
+
+"Yes--I knew he would, for he has talent and connection--therefore I
+chose him; but he left me just at the time these were beginning to be
+available, as soon as the five years for which our agreement was made,
+had expired."
+
+"What occasioned his leaving you?"
+
+"Why, Duval offered him better terms than I had done--I should not have
+cared so much for his going, but he carried off many of my clients, with
+whom he had ingratiated himself during his connection with me. My
+practice has scarcely recovered yet from the injury which he did it."
+
+
+"He seems to have acted on your own principle, and to have considered
+the main chance to mean the most money."
+
+"And do you suppose Latimer would have remained with you if he could
+have made better terms for himself?"
+
+"I know that during my long illness he was offered double what he was
+receiving, or could then hope ever to receive from my practice, and his
+reply to the offer was that the bonds forged by gratitude and affection,
+no interest could break. He has now built up the business again to far
+more than it was when he joined me--I know that I owe most of it to him,
+yet he will not listen to any advice to dissolve our partnership.
+Gentlemen," he said, "I have a sentiment to propose to you, which you
+may drink in wine or water as you like best. 'THE MAIN CHANCE--always
+best secured by obedience to the golden rule--as ye would that others
+should do unto you, do ye even so to them.'"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+
+The morning after Mr. Arlington had commenced our Christmas
+entertainments with the sketch of his friend Herbert Latimer's life, was
+dark and gloomy. At least, such was its aspect abroad, where leaden
+clouds covered the sky, and a cold, sleety rain fell fast; but within,
+all was bright, and warm, and cheerful. Immediately after breakfast we
+separated, each in search of amusement suited to his or her own tastes:
+some to the music room, some to the library, and Robert Dudley and Annie
+Donaldson to a game of battledore and shuttlecock in the wide hall, with
+Mr. Arlington for a spectator. As the storm increased, however, all
+seemed to feel the want of companionship, and without any preconcerted
+plan, we found ourselves, about two hours after breakfast, again
+assembled in the room in which quiet, patient Mrs. Donaldson sat,
+ravelling the netting of the last evening.
+
+"Now for Aunt Nancy's portfolio," cried Annie, as soon as conversation
+began to flag.
+
+The proposal was seconded so warmly that, as I could urge nothing
+against it, the portfolio was immediately produced, and Annie, taking
+possession of it, commissioned Robert Dudley to draw forth an
+engraving:--"Scene, a chamber by night, a sleeping baby and a sleepy
+mother, a basket of needle-work--I am sure it is needle-work--on the
+floor, and a cross suspended from the wall," said Annie, describing the
+engraving which she had taken from Robert.
+
+"That cross looks promising," said Colonel Donaldson, who likes a little
+romance as well as any of his daughters. "Let us have the fair lady's
+history, Aunt Nancy."
+
+"I know nothing about her," said I, with a smile at his eagerness.
+
+"Then why, dear Aunt Nancy, did you keep the engraving?" asked Annie.
+
+"I might answer, because of my interest in the scene it depicts--a scene
+in which religion seems to shed its sanctifying influence over the
+tenderest affection and the homeliest duties of our common life; but I
+had another reason."
+
+"Ah! I knew it," exclaimed Annie.
+
+"I first saw this print in company with a very cultivated and
+interesting German lady, to whose memory the sleeping baby recalled a
+cradle song written by her countryman, the brave Körner. She sang it for
+me, and as the German is, I am grieved to say, a sealed book to me, she
+gave me a literal translation of the words, which--"
+
+"Which you have put into English verse, and written here at the back of
+the engraving in the finest of all fine writing, and which papa will put
+on his spectacles and read for us."
+
+"No; I commission Mr. Arlington to do that," said the Colonel, "without
+his spectacles."
+
+"First," said I, "let me assure you that the original is full of a
+simple, natural tenderness, which I fear, in the double process of
+translating and versifying, has entirely escaped."
+
+Mr. Arlington, taking the paper from Annie, now read,--
+
+
+THE CRADLE SONG;
+
+A FREE TRANSLATION FROM KÖRNER.
+
+    I.
+
+    Slumberer! to thy mother's breast,
+    So fondly folded, sweetly rest!
+    Within that fair and quiet world,
+    With downy pinions scarce unfurl'd,
+    Life gently passes, nor doth bring
+    One dream of sorrow on its wing.
+
+
+    II.
+
+    Pleasant our dreams in early hours,
+    When Mother-love our life embowers;--
+    Ah! Mother-love! thy tender light
+    Hath vanished from my sky of night,
+    Scarce leaving there one fading ray
+    To thrill me with, remember'd day.
+
+
+    III.
+
+    Thrice, by the smiles of fav'ring Heaven,
+    To man this holiest joy is given;
+    Thrice, circled by the arms of love,
+    With glowing spirit he may prove
+    The highest rapture heart can feel,
+    The noblest hopes our lives reveal.
+
+
+    IV.
+
+    The earliest blessings that enwreathed
+    His infant days, 'twas Love that breathed.
+    In Love's warm smile the nursling blooms,
+    Nor fears one shade that o'er him glooms,
+    While flowers unfold and waters dance
+    In joy, beneath his first, fresh glance.
+
+
+    V.
+
+    And when around the youth's bold course
+    Clouds gather--tempests spend their force--
+    When his soul darkens with his sky,
+    Again the Love-God hovers nigh;
+    And on some gentle maiden's breast
+    Lulls him, once more, to blissful rest.
+
+
+    VI.
+
+    But when his heart bends to the power
+    Of storm, as bends the summer flower,
+    'Tis Love that, as the Angel-Death
+    Wooes from his lips the ling'ring breath,
+    And gently bears his soul above,
+    To the bright skies--the home of Love.
+
+"Poor Körner!" said Mr. Arlington, as he concluded reading this song--if
+indeed it may claim that name in its English dress--"I can sympathize,
+as few can do, with his mournful memory of mother-love."
+
+This was said in a tone of such genuine emotion, that I looked at him
+with even more pleasure than I had hitherto done.
+
+"Such tenderness touches us particularly when found, as in Körner, in
+union with manly and vigorous qualities--perhaps, because it is a rare
+combination," said Mrs. Dudley.
+
+"Is it rare?" I asked doubtfully. "The results of my own observation
+have led me to believe that it is precisely in manly, vigorous,
+independent minds that we see the fullest development of our simple,
+natural, home-affections."
+
+"You are right, Aunt Nancy," said Col. Donaldson; "it is only boys
+striving to seem manly and men of boyish minds, who fail to acknowledge
+with reverence and tenderness the value of a mother's love."
+
+"So convinced am I of this," I replied, "that I would ask for no more
+certain indication of a man's nobility of nature, than his manner to his
+mother. I remember a striking illustration of the fidelity of such an
+indication in two brothers of the name of Manning, with whom I was once
+acquainted. The one was quite a _petit-maître_--a dandy; the other, a
+fine creature--large-minded and large-hearted. The first betrayed in
+every look and movement, that he considered himself greatly his
+mother's superior, and feared every moment that she should detract from
+his dignity by some sin against the dicta of fashion; the other did
+honor at once to her and to himself, by his reverent devotion to her.
+They were a contrast, and a contrast which circumstances brought out
+most strikingly. Ah, Mr. Arlington! I wish you could have seen them--a
+sketch of them from your pencil would have been a picture indeed."
+
+"We will take your word-painting instead," said Mr. Arlington.
+
+"A mere description in words could not present them to you in all their
+strongly marked diversity of character. To do this, I must give you a
+history of their lives."
+
+"And why not?"--and--"Oh, yes, Aunt Nancy, that is just what we want,"
+was echoed from one to another. They consented to delay their
+gratification till the evening, that I might have a little time to
+arrange my reminiscences; and when "the hours of long uninterrupted
+evening" came, and we had
+
+    "----stirr'd the fire and closed the shutters fast,
+    Let fall the curtains, wheeled the sofa round,"
+
+and disposed ourselves in comfort for talking and for listening, I gave
+them the relation which you will find below under the title of
+
+
+THE BROTHERS;
+
+OR, IN THE FASHION AND ABOVE THE FASHION.
+
+"Some men are born to greatness--some achieve greatness--and some have
+greatness thrust upon them." Henry Manning belonged to the second of
+these three great classes. The son of a mercantile adventurer, who won
+and lost a fortune by speculation, he found himself at sixteen years of
+age called on to choose between the life of a Western farmer, with its
+vigorous action, stirring incident and rough usage--and the life of a
+clerk in one of the most noted establishments in Broadway, the great
+source and centre of fashion in New-York. Mr. Morgan, the brother of
+Mrs. Manning, who had been recalled from the distant West by the death
+of her husband, and the embarrassments into which that event had plunged
+her, had obtained the offer of the latter situation for one of his two
+nephews, and would take the other with him to his prairie-home.
+
+"I do not ask you to go with me, Matilda," he said to his sister,
+"because our life is yet too wild and rough to suit a delicate woman,
+reared, as you have been, in the midst of luxurious refinements. The
+difficulties and privations of life in the West fall most heavily upon
+woman, while she has little of that sustaining power which man's more
+adventurous spirit finds in overcoming difficulty and coping with
+danger. But let me have one of your boys; and by the time he has arrived
+at manhood, he will be able, I doubt not, to offer you in his home all
+the comforts, if not all the elegances of your present abode."
+
+Mrs. Manning consented; and now the question was, which of her sons
+should remain with her, and which should accompany Mr. Morgan. To Henry
+Manning, older by two years than his brother George, the choice of
+situations was submitted. He went with his uncle to the Broadway
+establishment, heard the duties which would be demanded from him, the
+salary which would be given, saw the grace with which the _élégants_
+behind the counter displayed their silks, and satins, and velvets, to
+the _élégantes_ before the counter, and the decision with which they
+promulgated the decrees of fashion; and with that just sense of his own
+powers, which is the accompaniment of true genius, he decided at once
+that there lay his vocation. George, who had not been without difficulty
+kept quiet, while his brother was forming his decision, as soon as it
+was announced, sprang forward with a whoop that would have suited a
+Western forest better than a New-York drawing-room, threw the Horace he
+was reading across the table, clasped first his mother and then his
+uncle in his arms, and exclaimed, "I am the boy for the West. I will
+help you fell forests and build cities there, uncle. Why should not we
+build cities as well as Romulus and Remus?"
+
+"I will supply your cities with all their silks, and satins, and
+velvets, and laces, and charge them nothing, George," said Henry
+Manning, with that air of superiority with which the worldly-wise often
+look on the sallies of the enthusiast.
+
+"You make my head ache, my son," complained Mrs. Manning, shrinking from
+his boisterous gratulation;--but Mr. Morgan returned his hearty embrace,
+and as he gazed into his bold, bright face, with an eye as bright as his
+own, replied to his burst of enthusiasm, "You _are_ the very boy for the
+West, George. It is out of such brave stuff that pioneers and
+city-builders are always made."
+
+Henry Manning soon bowed himself into the favor of the ladies who formed
+the principal customers of his employer. By his careful and really
+correct habits, and his elegant taste in the selection and arrangement
+of goods, he became also a favorite with his employers themselves. They
+needed an agent for the selection of goods abroad, and they sent him. He
+purchased cloths for them in England, and silks in France, and came home
+with the reputation of a travelled man. Having persuaded his mother to
+advance a capital for him by selling out the bank stock in which Mr.
+Morgan had founded her little fortune, at twenty-four years of age he
+commenced business for himself as a French importer. Leaving a partner
+to attend to the sales at home, he went abroad for the selection of
+goods, and the further enhancement of his social reputation. He returned
+in two years with a fashionable figure, a most _recherché_ style of
+dress, moustachios of the most approved cut, and whiskers of faultless
+curl--a finished gentleman in his own conceit. With such attractions,
+the _prestige_ which he derived from his reported travels and long
+residence abroad, and the _savoir faire_ of one who had made the
+conventional arrangements of society his study, he quickly arose to the
+summit of his wishes, to the point which it had been his life's ambition
+to attain. He became the umpire of taste, and his word was received as
+the fiat of fashion. He continued to reside with his mother, and paid
+great attention to her style of dress, and the arrangements of her
+house, for it was important that his mother should appear properly. Poor
+Mrs. Manning! she sometimes thought that proud title dearly purchased by
+listening to his daily criticisms on appearance, language, manners,
+which had been esteemed stylish enough in their day.
+
+George Manning had visited his mother only once since he left her with
+all the bright imaginings and boundless confidence of fourteen, and then
+Henry was in Europe. It was during the first winter after his return,
+and when the brothers had been separated for nearly twelve years, that
+Mrs. Manning informed him she had received a letter from George,
+announcing his intention to be in New-York in December, and to remain
+with them through most if not all of the winter. Henry Manning was
+evidently annoyed at the announcement.
+
+"I wish," he said, "that George had chosen to make his visit in the
+summer, when most of the people to whom I should hesitate to introduce
+him would have been absent. I should be sorry to hurt his feelings, but
+really, to introduce a Western farmer into polished society--" Henry
+Manning shuddered, and was silent. "And then to choose this winter of
+all winters for his visit, and to come in December, just at the very
+time that I heard yesterday Miss Harcourt was coming from Washington to
+spend a few weeks with her friend, Mrs. Duffield!"
+
+"And what has Miss Harcourt's visit to Mrs. Duffield to do with George's
+visit to us?" asked Mrs. Manning.
+
+"A great deal--at least it has a great deal to do with my regret that he
+should come just now. I told you how I became acquainted with Emma
+Harcourt in Europe, and what a splendid creature she is. Even in Paris,
+she bore the palm for wit and beauty--and fashion too--that is in
+English and American society. But I did not tell you that she received
+me with such distinguished favor, and evinced so much pretty
+consciousness at my attentions, that had not her father, having been
+chosen one of the electors of President and Vice-President, hurried from
+Paris in order to be in this country in time for his vote, I should
+probably have been induced to marry her. Her father is in Congress this
+year, and you see, she no sooner learns that I am here, than she comes
+to spend part of the winter with a friend in New-York."
+
+Henry arose at this, walked to a glass, surveyed his elegant figure, and
+continuing to cast occasional glances at it as he walked backwards and
+forwards through the room, resumed the conversation, or rather his own
+communication.
+
+"All this is very encouraging, doubtless; but Emma Harcourt is so
+perfectly elegant, so thoroughly refined, that I dread the effect upon
+her of any _outré_ association--by the by, mother, if I obtain her
+permission to introduce you to her, you will not wear that brown hat in
+visiting her--a brown hat is my aversion--it is positively vulgar--but
+to return to George--how can I introduce him, with his rough,
+boisterous, Western manner, to this courtly lady?--the very thought
+chills me"--and Henry Manning shivered--"and yet, how can I avoid it, if
+we should be engaged?"
+
+With December came the beautiful Emma Harcourt, and Mrs. Duffield's
+house was thronged with her admirers. Hers was the form and movement of
+the Huntress Queen rather than of one trained in the halls of fashion.
+There was a joyous freedom in her air, her step, her glance, which, had
+she been less beautiful, less talented, less fortunate in social
+position or in wealth, would have placed her under the ban of fashion;
+but, as it was, she commanded fashion, and even Henry Manning, the very
+slave of conventionalism, had no criticism for her. He had been among
+the first to call on her, and the blush that flitted across her cheek,
+the smile that played upon her lips, as he was announced, might well
+have flattered one even of less vanity.
+
+The very next day, before Henry had had time to improve these symptoms
+in her favor, on returning home, at five o'clock, to his dinner, he
+found a stranger in the parlor with his mother. The gentleman arose on
+his entrance, and he had scarcely time to glance at the tall, manly
+form, the lofty air, the commanding brow, ere he found himself clasped
+in his arms, with the exclamation, "Dear Henry! how rejoiced I am to see
+you again."
+
+In George Manning the physical and intellectual man had been developed
+in rare harmony. He was taller and larger every way than his brother
+Henry, and the self-reliance which the latter had laboriously attained
+from the mastery of all conventional rules, was his by virtue of a
+courageous soul, which held itself above all rules but those prescribed
+by its own high sense of the right. There was a singular contrast,
+rendered yet more striking by some points of resemblance, between the
+pupil of society, and the child of the forest--between the Parisian
+elegance of Henry, and the proud, free grace of George. His were the
+step and bearing which we have seen in an Indian chief; but thought had
+left its impress on his brow, and there was in his countenance that
+indescribable air of refinement which marks a polished mind. In a very
+few minutes Henry became reconciled to his brother's arrival, and
+satisfied with him in all respects but one--his dress. This was of the
+finest cloth, but made into large, loose trowsers, and a species of
+hunting-shirt, trimmed with fur, belted around the waist, and
+descending to the knee, instead of the tight pantaloons and closely
+fitting body coat prescribed by fashion. The little party lingered long
+over the table--it was seven o'clock before they arose from it.
+
+"Dear mother," said George Manning, "I am sorry to leave you this
+evening, but I will make you rich amends to-morrow by introducing to you
+the friend I am going to visit, if you will permit me. Henry, it is so
+long since I was in New-York that I need some direction in finding my
+way--must I turn up or down Broadway for Number--, in going from this
+street?"
+
+"Number--," exclaimed Henry in surprise; "you must be mistaken--that is
+Mrs. Duffield's."
+
+"Then I am quite right, for it is at Mrs. Duffield's that I expect to
+meet my friend this evening."
+
+With some curiosity to know what friend of George could have so
+completely the _entrée_ of the fashionable Mrs. Duffield's house as to
+make an appointment there, Henry proposed to go with him and show him
+the way. There was a momentary hesitation in George's manner before he
+replied, "Very well, I shall be obliged to you."
+
+"But--excuse me George--you are not surely going in that dress--this is
+one of Mrs. Duffield's reception evenings, and, early as it is, you will
+find company there."
+
+George laughed as he replied; "They must take me as I am, Henry. We do
+not receive our fashions from Paris at the West."
+
+Henry almost repented his offer to accompany his brother; but it was too
+late to withdraw, for George, unconscious of this feeling, had taken his
+cloak and cap, and was awaiting his escort. As they approached Mrs.
+Duffield's house, George, who had hitherto led the conversation, became
+silent, or answered his brother only in monosyllables, and then not
+always to the purpose. As they entered the hall, the hats and cloaks
+displayed there showed that, as Henry supposed, they were not the
+earliest visitors. George paused for a moment and said, "You must go in
+without me, Henry. Show me to a room where there is no company," he
+continued, turning to a servant--"and take this card in to Mrs.
+Duffield--be sure to give it to Mrs. Duffield herself."
+
+The servant bowed low to the commanding stranger; and Henry, almost
+mechanically, obeyed his direction, muttering to himself, "Free and
+easy, upon my honor." He had scarcely entered the usual reception-room
+and made his bow to Mrs. Duffield, when the servant presented his
+brother's card. He watched her closely, and saw a smile playing over her
+lips as her eyes rested on it. She glanced anxiously at Miss Harcourt,
+and crossing the room to a group in which she stood, she drew her aside.
+After a few whispered words, Mrs. Duffield placed the card in Miss
+Harcourt's hand. A sudden flash of joy irradiated every feature of her
+beautiful face, and Henry Manning saw that, but for Mrs. Duffield's
+restraining hand, she would have rushed from the room. Recalled thus to
+a recollection of others, she looked around her, and her eyes met his.
+In an instant, her face was covered with blushes, and she drew back with
+embarrassed consciousness--almost immediately, however, she raised her
+head with a proud, bright expression, and though she did not look at
+Henry Manning, he felt that she was conscious of his observation, as she
+passed with a composed yet joyous step from the room.
+
+Henry Manning was awaking from a dream. It was not a very pleasant
+awakening, but as his vanity rather than his heart was touched, he was
+able to conceal his chagrin, and appear as interesting and agreeable as
+usual. He now expected with some impatience the _dénouement_ of the
+comedy. An hour passed away, and Mrs. Duffield's eye began to consult
+the marble clock on her mantel-piece. The chime for another half-hour
+rang out; and she left the room and returned in a few minutes, leaning
+on the arm of George Manning.
+
+"Who is that?--What noble-looking man is that?" were questions Henry
+Manning heard from many--from a very few only the exclamation, "How
+oddly he is dressed!" Before the evening was over Henry began to feel
+that he was eclipsed on his own theatre--that George, if not _in the
+fashion_, was yet more _the fashion_ than he.
+
+Following the proud, happy glance of his brother's eye, a quarter of an
+hour later, Henry saw Miss Harcourt entering the room in an opposite
+direction from that in which she had lately come. If this was a _ruse_ on
+her part to veil the connection between their movements, it was a
+fruitless caution. None who had seen her before could fail now to
+observe the softened character of her beauty, and those who saw
+
+    "A thousand blushing apparitions start
+    Into her face"--
+
+whenever his eyes rested on her, could scarcely doubt his influence over
+her.
+
+The next morning George Manning brought Miss Harcourt to visit his
+mother; and Mrs. Manning rose greatly in her son Henry's estimation,
+when he saw the affectionate deference evinced towards her by the proud
+beauty.
+
+"How strange my manner must have seemed to you sometimes!" said Miss
+Harcourt to Henry one day. "I was engaged to George long before I met
+you in Europe; and though I never had courage to mention him to you, I
+wondered a little that you never spoke of him. I never doubted for a
+moment that you were acquainted with our engagement."
+
+"I do not even yet understand where and how you and George met."
+
+"We met at home--my father was Governor of the Territory--State now--in
+which your uncle lives: our homes were very near each other's, and so we
+met almost daily while I was still a child. We have had all sorts of
+adventures together; for George was a great favorite with my father, and
+I was permitted to go with him anywhere. He has saved my life
+twice--once at the imminent peril of his own, when with the wilfulness
+of a spoiled child I would ride a horse which he told me I could not
+manage. Oh! you know not half his nobleness," and tears moistened the
+bright eyes of the happy girl.
+
+Henry Manning was touched through all his conventionalism, yet the
+moment after he said, "George is a fine fellow, certainly; but I wish
+you could persuade him to dress a little more like other people."
+
+"I would not if I could," exclaimed Emma Harcourt, while the blood
+rushed to her temples; "fashions and all such conventional regulations
+are made for those who have no innate perception of the right, the
+noble, the beautiful--not for such as he--he is above fashion."
+
+What Emma would not ask, she yet did not fail to recognize as another
+proof of correct judgment, when George Manning laid aside his Western
+costume and assumed one less remarkable.
+
+Henry Manning had received a new idea--that there are those who are
+above the fashion. Allied to this was another thought, which in time
+found entrance to his mind, that it would be at least as profitable to
+devote our energies to the acquisition of true nobility of soul, pure
+and high thought and refined taste, as to the study of those
+conventionalisms which are but their outer garment, and can at best only
+conceal for a short time their absence.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+
+The next day was brilliant. Snow had fallen during the night, and the
+sun, which arose without a cloud, was reflected back from it with
+dazzling brightness, while every branch and spray glittered in its
+casing of ice as though it had been a huge diamond. Before we met at
+breakfast, the younger members of the party had decided on a
+sleigh-ride. Even Col. Donaldson _malgré_ old age and rheumatism, found
+himself unable to resist the cheerful morning and their gay
+solicitations, and accompanied them. Mrs. Donaldson and I were left
+alone, a circumstance which did not afflict either of us. Mrs. Donaldson
+was never at a loss for pleasant occupation for her hours, and Annie had
+given me something to do in parting.
+
+"Remember, Aunt Nancy, we shall look to you for our entertainment this
+evening; you shall be permitted to choose your subject. Is not that
+gracious?" she added, with a laugh at her own style of command,
+springing at the same moment from the sleigh in which Mr. Arlington had
+already placed himself at her side, and running up the steps to the
+piazza, where I stood, that she might give me another kiss, and satisfy
+herself that she had not wounded the _amour propre_ of her old friend,
+by speaking so much _en reine_. I was, in truth, pleased to be reminded
+of the demand which might be made on me in the evening, while I had time
+to glance over sketches intended only for myself, and ascertain whether
+they contained any thing likely to interest others.
+
+A late dinner re-united us, and the fatigues of the morning having been
+repaired by an hour's rest in the afternoon, our party was more than
+usually fresh and ready for enjoyment when we met in the evening. I had
+availed myself of Annie's permission, and selected my subject. It was a
+crayon sketch of a lovely lake, taken by Philip Oswald, the son of one
+of my most valued friends. The sketch was made while all around remained
+in the wilderness of uncultivated nature. Since that day, the stillness
+has been disturbed by the sound of the axe and the hammer. Upon the
+borders of that sweet lake, a fair home has risen, from which the
+incense of grateful and loving hearts has gone up to the Creator of so
+much beauty. The associations which made this scene peculiarly
+interesting to me I had long since written out, and now give to the
+reader under the title of
+
+
+LOSS AND GAIN;
+
+OR, HEARTS VERSUS DIAMONDS.
+
+Winter had thrown its icy fetters over the Hudson, and stilled even the
+stormier waves of the East River, as the inhabitants of New-York
+designate that portion of the Harbor which lies between their city and
+Brooklyn. The city itself--its streets--its houses--all wore the livery
+of this "ruler of the inverted year"--while in many a garret and cellar
+of its crowded streets, ragged children huddled together, seeking to
+warm their frozen limbs beneath the scanty covering of their beds, or
+cowering over the few half-dying embers, which they misnamed a fire. Yet
+the social affections were not chilled--rather did they seem to glow
+more warmly, as though rejoicing in their triumph over the mighty
+conqueror of the physical world. Christian charity went forth unchecked
+through the frosty air and over the snow-clad streets, to shelter the
+houseless, to clothe the naked, to warm the freezing. Human sympathies
+awoke to new-life, the dying hopes and failing energies of man; and the
+sleigh-bells, ringing out their joyous peals through the day, and far,
+far into the night, told that the young and fair were abroad braving all
+the severities of the season, in their eager search after pleasure. In
+the neighborhood of Waverley Place, especially, on the evening of the
+16th of December, did this merry music "wake the silent air" to respond
+to the quick beatings of the gay young hearts anticipating the fête of
+fêtes, the most brilliant party of the season, which was that evening to
+be given at the house of the ruler of fashion--the elegant Mrs. Bruton.
+
+Instead of introducing our readers to the gay assemblage of this lady's
+guests, we will take them to the dressing-room of the fairest among
+them, the beautiful, the gay, the brilliant Caroline Danby. As the door
+of this inner temple of beauty opens at the touch of our magic wand, its
+inmate is seen standing before a mirror, and her eye beams, and her lip
+is smiling with anticipated triumph. Does there seem vanity in the gaze
+she fastens there? Look on that form of graceful symmetry, on those
+large black eyes with their jetty fringes, on the rich coloring of her
+rounded cheeks, and the dewy freshness of her red lip, and you will
+forget to censure. But see, the mirror reflects another form--a form so
+slender that it seems scarcely to have attained the full proportions of
+womanhood, and a face whose soft gray eyes and fair complexion, and hair
+of the palest gold, present a singular contrast to the dark yet glowing
+beauty beside her. This is Mary Grayson, the orphan cousin of Caroline
+Danby, who has grown up in her father's house. She has glided in with
+her usual gentle movement, and light, noiseless step, and Caroline first
+perceives her in the glass.
+
+"Ah, Mary!" she exclaims, "I sent for you to put this diamond spray in
+my hair; you arrange it with so much more taste than any one else."
+
+Mary smilingly receives the expensive ornament, and fastens it amidst
+the dark, glossy tresses. At this moment the doorbell gives forth a
+hasty peal, and going to the head of the stairs, Mary remains listening
+till the door is opened, and then comes back to say, "Mrs. Oswald,
+Caroline, and Philip."
+
+"Pray, go down and entertain them till I come, Mary"--and seemingly
+nothing loth, Mary complies with the request.
+
+In the drawing-room to which Mary Grayson directed her steps stood a
+stately looking lady, who advanced to meet her as she entered, and
+kissing her affectionately, asked, "Are you not going with us this
+evening?"
+
+"No; my sore throat has increased, and the Doctor is positive; there is
+no appeal from him, you know; I am very sorry, for I wished to see some
+of Philip's foreign graces," she said playfully, as she turned to give
+her hand to a gentleman who had entered while she was speaking. He
+received it with the frank kindness of a brother, but before he could
+reply the door of the drawing-room opened, and Caroline Danby appeared
+within it. Philip Oswald sprang forward to greet her, and from that
+moment seemed forgetful that there was any other thing in life deserving
+his attention, save her radiant beauty. Perhaps there was some little
+regard to the effect of his first glance at that beauty, in her
+presenting herself in the drawing-room with her cloak and hood upon her
+arm, the diamond sparkling in her uncovered tresses, and the soft, rich
+folds of her satin dress and its flowing lace draperies, shading without
+concealing the graceful outline of her form. The gentleman who gazed so
+admiringly upon her, who wrapped her cloak around her with such tender
+care, and even insisted, kneeling gracefully before her, on fastening
+himself the warm, furred overshoes upon her slender foot, seemed a fit
+attendant at the shrine of beauty. Philip Oswald had been only a few
+weeks at home, after an absence of four years spent in European travel.
+The quality in his appearance and manners, which first impressed the
+observer, was refinement--perfect elegance, without the least touch of
+coxcombry. It had been said of him, that he had brought home the taste
+in dress of a Parisian, the imaginativeness of a German, and the voice
+and passion for music of an Italian. Few were admitted to such intimacy
+with him as to look into the deeper qualities of the mind--but those who
+were, saw there the sturdy honesty of John Bull, and the courageous
+heart and independent spirit of his own America. Some of those who knew
+him best, regretted that the possession of a fortune, which placed him
+among the wealthiest in America, would most probably consign him to a
+life of indolence, in which his highest qualities would languish for
+want of exercise.
+
+By nine o'clock Caroline Danby's preparations were completed, and
+leaning on one of Philip Oswald's arms, while the other was given to his
+mother, she was led out, and placed in the most splendid sleigh in New
+York, and wrapped in the most costly furs. Philip followed, the weary
+coachman touched his spirited horses with the whip, the sleigh-bells
+rang merrily out, and Mary Grayson was left in solitude.
+
+The last stroke of three had ceased to vibrate on the air when Caroline
+Danby again stood beside her cousin. Mary was sleeping, and a painter
+might have hesitated whether to give the palm of beauty to the soft,
+fair face, which looked so angel-like in its placid sleep, or to that
+which bent above her in undimmed brilliancy.
+
+"Is it you, Caroline? What time is it?" asked Mary, as she aroused at
+her cousin's call.
+
+"Three o'clock; but wake up, Mary; I have something to tell you, which
+must not be heard by sleepy ears."
+
+"How fresh you look!" exclaimed Mary, sitting up in bed and looking at
+her cousin admiringly. "Who would believe you had been dancing all
+night!"
+
+"I have not been dancing all night, nor half the night."
+
+"Why--what have you been doing then?"
+
+"Listening to Philip Oswald. Oh Mary! I am certainly the most fortunate
+woman in the world. He is mine at last--he, the most elegant, the most
+brilliant man in New-York, and with such a splendid fortune. I was so
+happy, so excited, that I could not sleep, and therefore I awoke you to
+talk."
+
+"I am glad you did, for I am almost as much pleased as you can be--such
+joy is better than sleep;--but all the bells in the city seem to be
+ringing--did you see any thing of the fire?"
+
+"Oh yes! the whole sky at the southeast is glowing from the flames--the
+largest fire, they say, that has ever been known in the city--but it is
+far enough from us--down in Wall-street--and who can think of fires with
+such joy before them? Only think, Mary, with Philip's fortune and
+Philip's taste, what an establishment I shall have."
+
+"And what a mother in dear, good Mrs. Oswald!"
+
+"Yes--but I hope she will not wish to live with us--mother-in-laws, you
+know, always want to manage every thing in their sons' houses."
+
+Thus the cousins sat talking till the fire-bells ceased their monotonous
+and ominous clang, and the late dawn of a winter morning reddened the
+eastern sky. It was half-past nine o'clock when they met again at their
+breakfast; yet late as it was, Mr. Danby, usually a very early riser,
+was not quite ready for it. He had spent most of the night at the scene
+of the fire, and had with great difficulty and labor saved his valuable
+stock of French goods from the destroyer. When he joined his daughter
+and niece, his mind was still under the influence of last night's
+excitement, and he could talk of nothing but the fire.
+
+"Rather expensive fireworks, I am afraid," said Caroline flippantly, as
+her father described the lurid grandeur of the scene.
+
+"Do not speak lightly, my daughter, of that which must reduce many from
+affluence to beggary. Millions of property were lost last night. The
+16th of December, 1835, will long be remembered in the annals of
+New-York, I fear."
+
+"It will long be remembered in my annals," whispered Caroline to her
+cousin, with a bright smile, despite her father's chiding.
+
+"Not at home to any but Mr. Philip Oswald," had been Caroline Danby's
+order to the servant this morning; and thus when she was told, at twelve
+o'clock, that that gentleman awaited her in the drawing-room, she had
+heard nothing more of the fire than her father and the morning paper had
+communicated. As she entered, Philip arose to greet her, but though he
+strove to smile as his eyes met hers, the effort was vain; and throwing
+himself back on the sofa, he covered his face with his hand, as though
+to hide his pallor and the convulsive quivering of his lips from her
+whom he was reluctant to grieve. Emboldened by her fears, Caroline
+advanced, and laying her hand on his, exclaimed, "What is the
+matter?--Are you ill?--your mother?--pray do not keep me in suspense,
+but tell me what has happened."
+
+He seemed to have mastered his emotion, from whatever cause it had
+proceeded; for removing his hand, he looked earnestly upon her, and
+drawing her to a seat beside him, said in firm, though sad tones, "That
+has happened, Caroline, which would not move me thus, but for your dear
+sake--I asked you last night to share my fortune--to-day I have none to
+offer you."
+
+"Gracious heaven!" exclaimed Caroline, turning as pale as he, "what do
+you mean?"
+
+"That in the fire last night, or the failures which the most sanguine
+assure me it must produce, my whole fortune is involved. If I can
+recover from the wreck what will secure to my poor mother the
+continuance of her accustomed comforts, it will be beyond my hopes; for
+me--the luxuries, the comforts, the very necessaries of life must be the
+produce of my own exertion. I do not ask you to share my poverty,
+Caroline; I cannot be so selfish; had I not spoken of my love last
+night, you should never have heard it--though it had been like a burning
+fire, I would have shut it up within my heart--but it is too late for
+this; you have heard it, and I have heard--the remembrance brings with
+it a wild delirious joy, even in this hour of darkness "--and the pale
+face of Philip Oswald flushed, and his dimmed eye beamed brightly again
+as he spoke: "I have heard your sweet confession of reciprocal regard.
+Months, perhaps years may pass before I attain the goal at which I last
+night thought myself to have already arrived--before I can dare to call
+you mine--but in our land, manly determination and perseverance ever
+command success, and I fear not to promise you, dearest, one day a happy
+home--though not a splendid one--if you will promise me to share it.
+Look on me, Caroline--give me one smile to light me on my way--with such
+a hope before me, I cannot say my _dreary_ way."
+
+He ceased, yet Caroline neither looked upon him, nor spoke. Her cheek
+had grown pale at his words, and she sat down with downcast eyes, cold,
+still, statue-like at his side. Yet did not Philip Oswald doubt her
+love. Had not her eye kindled and her cheek flushed at his whispered
+vows--had not her hand rested lovingly in his, and her lip been yielded
+to the first kiss of love--how, then, could he dare to doubt her? She
+was grieved for his sake--he had been selfishly abrupt in his first
+communication of his sorrow, and now he--the stronger--must struggle to
+bear and to speak cheerfully for her sake. And with this feeling he had
+been able to conclude far more cheerfully than he commenced. As she
+still continued silent, he bent forward, and would have pressed his lip
+to her cheek, saying, "Not one word for me, dear one,"--but, drawing
+hastily back, Caroline said with great effort,
+
+"I think, Mr. Oswald--it seems to me that--that--an engagement must be a
+heavy burden to one who has to make his own way in life--I--I should be
+sorry to be a disadvantage to you."
+
+It was a crushing blow, and for an instant he sat stunned into almost
+death-like stillness by it:--but he rallied;--he would leave no loop on
+which hope or fancy might hereafter hang a doubt. "Caroline," he said,
+in a voice whose change spoke the intensity of his feelings, "do not
+speak of disadvantage to me--your love was the one star left in my
+sky--but that matters not--what I would know is, whether you desire that
+the record of last evening should be blotted from the history of our
+lives?"
+
+"I--I think it had better be--I am sure I wish you well, Mr. Oswald."
+
+It was well for her, perhaps, that she did not venture to meet his
+eye--that look of withering scorn could hardly ever have vanished from
+her memory--it was enough to hear his bitter laugh, and the accents in
+which he said, "Thank you, Miss Danby--your wishes are fully
+reciprocated--may you never know a love less prudent than your own."
+
+The door closed on him, and she was alone--left to the companionship of
+her own heart--evil companionship in such an hour! She hastened to
+relate all that had passed to Mary, but Mary had no assurances for
+her--she had only sympathy for Philip--"dear Philip"--as she called him
+over and over again. "I think it would better become one so young as you
+are, to say, Mr. Oswald, Mary," said Caroline, pettishly.
+
+"I have called him Philip from my childhood, Caroline--I shall not begin
+to say Mr. Oswald _now_." Mary did not mean a reproach, but to
+Caroline's accusing conscience it sounded like one, and she turned away
+indignantly. She soon, however, sought her cousin again with a note in
+her hand.
+
+"I have been writing to Mrs. Oswald, Mary," she said; "you are perhaps
+too young, and Mr. Oswald too much absorbed in his own disappointment,
+to estimate the propriety of my conduct; but she will, I am sure, agree
+with me, that one expensively reared as I have been, accustomed to every
+luxury, and perfectly ignorant of economy, would make the worst possible
+wife to a poor man; and she has so much influence over Mr. Oswald, that,
+should she accord with me in opinion on this point, she can easily
+convince him of its justice. Will you take my note to her? I do not like
+to send it by a servant--it might fall into Philip's hands."
+
+Nothing could have pleased Mary more than this commission, for her
+affectionate heart was longing to offer its sympathy to her friends.
+Mrs. Oswald assumed perhaps a little more than her usual stateliness
+when she heard her announced, but it vanished instantly before Mary's
+tearful eye, as she kissed the hand that was extended to her. Mrs.
+Oswald folded her arms around her, and Mary sank sobbing upon the bosom
+of her whom she had come to console. And Mrs. Oswald was consoled by
+such true and tender sympathy. It was long before Mary could prevail on
+herself to disturb the flow of gentler affections by delivering
+Caroline's note. Mrs. Oswald received it with an almost contemptuous
+smile, which remained unchanged while she read. It was a labored effort
+to make her conduct seem a generous determination not to obstruct
+Philip's course in life, by binding him to a companion so unsuitable to
+his present prospects as herself. In reply, Mrs. Oswald assured Caroline
+Danby of her perfect agreement with her in the conviction that she
+would make a very unsuitable wife for Philip Oswald. "This," she added,
+"was always my opinion, though I was unwilling to oppose my son's
+wishes. I thank you for having convinced him I was right in the only
+point on which we ever differed."
+
+It cannot be supposed that this note was very pleasing to Caroline
+Danby; but, whatever were her dissatisfaction, she did not complain, and
+probably soon lost all remembrance of her chagrin in the gayeties which
+a few men of fortune still remained, amidst the almost universal ruin,
+to promote and to partake.
+
+In the mean time, Philip Oswald was experiencing that restlessness, that
+burning desire to free himself from all his present associations, to
+begin, as it were, a new life, which the first pressure of sorrow so
+often arouses in the ardent spirit. Had not his will been "bound down by
+the iron chain of necessity," he would probably have returned to Europe,
+and wasted his energies amidst aimless wanderings. As it was, he chose
+among those modes of life demanded by his new circumstances, that which
+would take him farthest from New-York, and place him in a condition the
+most foreign to all his past experience, and demanding the most active
+and most incessant exertion. Out of that which the fire, the failure of
+Insurance Companies and of private individuals, had left him remained,
+after the purchase of a liberal annuity for his mother, a few thousands
+to be devoted either to merchandise, to his support while pursuing the
+studies necessary for the acquirement of a profession, or to any mode of
+gaining a living, which he might prefer to these. The very hour which
+ascertained this fact, saw his resolution taken and his course marked
+out.
+
+"I must have new scenery for this new act in the drama of my life," he
+said to his mother. "I must away--away from all the artificialities and
+trivialities of my present world, to the rich prairies, the wide
+streams, the boundless expanse of the West. I go to make a new home for
+you dear mother--you shall be the queen of my kingdom."
+
+This was not the choice that would have pleased an ambitious, or an
+over-fond mother. The former would have preferred a profession, as
+conferring higher social distinction; the latter would have shrunk from
+seeing one nursed in the lap of luxury go forth to encounter the
+hardships of a pioneer. But Mrs. Oswald possessed an intelligence which
+recognized in that life of bold adventure, and physical endurance, and
+persevering labor, that awaited her son in the prosecution of his plans,
+the best school for the development of that decision and force of
+character which she had desired as the crowning seal to Philip's
+intellectual endowments, warm affections, and just principles; and,
+holding his excellence as the better part of her own happiness, she
+sanctioned his designs, and did all in her power to promote their
+execution. He waited, therefore, only to see her leave the house whose
+rent now exceeded her whole annual income, for pleasant rooms in a
+boarding-house, agreeably situated, before he set out from New-York.
+
+It is not our intention minutely to trace his course, to describe the
+"local habitation" which he acquired, or detail the difficulties which
+arose in his progress, the strength with which he combated, or the means
+by which he overcame them. For his course, suffice it that it was
+westward; for his habitation, that it was on the slope of a hill crowned
+with the gigantic trees of that fertile soil, and beside a lake, "a
+sheet of silver" well fitted to be--
+
+    "A mirror and a bath for beauty's youngest daughters;"
+
+and that the house, which he at length succeeded in raising and
+furnishing there, united somewhat the refinement of his past life to the
+simplicity of his present; for his difficulties, we can only say, he
+met them and conquered them, and gained from each encounter knowledge
+and power. For two years, letters were the only medium of intercourse
+between his mother and himself, but those letters were a history--a
+history not only of his stirring, outer life, but of that inner life
+which yet more deeply interested her. Feeling proud herself of the
+daring spirit, the iron will, the ready invention which these letters
+displayed, yet prouder of the affectionate heart, the true and generous
+nature, it is not wonderful that Mrs. Oswald should have often read
+them, or at least parts of them, to her constant friend and very
+frequent visitor, Mary Grayson. Nor is it more strange that Mary, thus
+made to recognize in the most interesting man she had yet known, far
+more lofty claims to her admiration, should have enshrined him in her
+young and pure imagination as some "bright, particular star."
+
+Two years in the future! How almost interminable seems the prospect to
+our hopes or our affections!--but let Time turn his perspective
+glass--let us look at it in the past, and how it shrinks and becomes as
+a day in the history of our lives! So was it with Philip Oswald's two
+years of absence, when he found himself, in the earliest dawn of the
+spring of 1838, once more in New-York. Yet that time had not passed
+without leaving traces of its passage--traces in the changes affecting
+those around him--yet deeper traces in himself. He arrived in the
+afternoon of an earlier day than that on which he had been expected. In
+the evening Mrs. Oswald persuaded him to assume, for the gratification
+of her curiosity, the picturesque costume worn by him in his western
+home. He had just re-entered her room, and she was yet engaged in
+animated observation of the hunting-shirt, strapped around the waist
+with a belt of buckskin, the open collar, and loosely knotted cravat,
+which, as the mother's heart whispered, so well became that tall and
+manly form, when there was a slight tap at the door, and before she
+could speak, it opened, and Mary Grayson stood within it. She gazed in
+silence for a moment on the striking figure before her, and her mind
+rapidly scanned the changes which time and new modes of life had made in
+the Philip Oswald of her memory. As she did so, she acknowledged that
+the embrowned face and hands, the broader and more vigorous proportions,
+and even the easy freedom of his dress, were more in harmony with the
+bold and independent aspect which his character had assumed, than the
+delicacy and elegance by which he had formerly been distinguished. His
+outer man was now the true index of a noble, free, and energetic
+spirit--a spirit which, having conquered itself, was victor over
+all--and as such, it attracted from Mary a deeper and more reverent
+admiration, than she had felt for him when adorned with all the
+trappings of wealth and luxurious refinement. The very depth of this
+sentiment destroyed the ease of her manner towards him, and as Philip
+Oswald took the hand formerly so freely offered him, and heard from her
+lips the respectful Mr. Oswald, instead of the frank, sisterly Philip,
+he said to himself--"She looks down upon the backwoodsman, and would
+have him know his place." So much for man's boasted penetration!
+
+Notwithstanding the barrier of reserve thus erected between them, Philip
+Oswald could not but admire the rare loveliness into which Mary
+Grayson's girlish prettiness had expanded, and again, and yet again,
+while she was speaking to his mother, and could not therefore perceive
+him, he turned to gaze on her, fascinated not by the finely turned form
+or beautiful features, but by the countenance beaming with gentle and
+refined intelligence. Here was none of the brilliancy which had dazzled
+his senses in Caroline Danby, but an expression of mind and heart far
+more captivating to him who had entered into the inner mysteries of
+life.
+
+A fortnight was the limit of Philip Oswald's stay in the city. He had
+come not for his mother, but for the house in which she was to live, and
+he carried it back with him. We do not mean that his house, with all its
+conveniences of kitchen and pantry, its elegances of parlor and
+drawing-room, and its decorations of pillar and cornice fitly joined
+together, travelled off with him to the far West. We do not despair of
+seeing such a feat performed some day, but we believe it has not yet
+been done, and Philip Oswald, at least, did not attempt it; he took with
+him, however, all those useful and ornamental contrivances in their
+several parts, accompanied by workmen skilled in putting the whole
+together. Again in his western home, for another year, his head and his
+hands were fully occupied with building and planting. For the first two
+years of his forest life, he had thought only of the substantial produce
+of the field--the rye, the barley, the Indian corn, which were to be
+exchanged for the "omnipotent dollar"--but woman was coming, and beauty
+and grace must be the herald of her steps. For his mother, he planted
+fruits and flowers, opened views of the lake, made a gravelled walk to
+its shore bordered with flowering shrubs, and wreathed the woodbine, the
+honeysuckle, and the multiflora rose around the columns of his piazza.
+For his mother this was done, and yet, when the labors of the day were
+over, and he looked forth upon them in the cool, still evening hour, it
+was not his mother's face, but one younger and fairer which peered out
+upon him from the vine-leaves, or with tender smiles wooed him to the
+lake. Young, fair, and tender as it was, its wooings generally sent him
+in an opposite direction, with a sneer at his own folly, to stifle his
+fancies with a book, or to mark out the plan of the morrow's operations.
+
+More than a year had passed away and Philip Oswald was again in
+New-York, just as spring was gliding into the ardent embraces of
+summer. This time he had come for his mother, and with all the force of
+his resolute will, he shut his ears to the flattering suggestions of
+fancy, that a dearer pleasure than even that mother's presence might be
+won. He had looked steadily upon his lot in life, and he accepted it,
+and determined to make the best of it and to be happy in it; yet he felt
+that it was after all a rugged lot. Without considering all women as
+mercenary as Caroline Danby, which his knowledge of his mother forbade
+him to do, even in his most woman-scorning mood, he yet doubted whether
+any of those who had been reared amidst the refinements of cultivated
+life, could be won to leave them all for love in the western wilds; and
+as the unrefined could have no charms for him, he deliberately embraced
+_bachelordom_ as a part of his portion, and, not without a sigh, yielded
+himself to the conviction that all the wealth of woman's love within his
+power to attain, was locked within a mother's heart.
+
+A fortnight was again the allotted time of Philip Oswald's stay; but
+when that had expired, he was persuaded to delay his departure for yet
+another week. He had been drawn, by accompanying his mother in her
+farewell visits, once more within the vortex of society, and his manly
+independence and energy, his knowledge of what was to his companions a
+new world, and his spirit-stirring descriptions of its varied beauty and
+inexhaustible fertility, made him more the fashion than he had ever
+been. He had often met Caroline Danby--now Mrs. Randall--and Mary more
+than once delicately turned her eyes away from her cousin's face, lest
+she should read there somewhat of chagrin as Mr. Randall, with his
+meaningless face and dapper-looking form--insignificant in all save the
+reputation of being the wealthiest banker in Wall-street, and possessing
+the most elegant house and furniture, the best appointed equipage, and
+the handsomest wife in the city--stood beside Philip Oswald with
+
+               "----a form indeed
+    Where every god did seem to set his seal,
+    To give the world assurance of a man,"
+
+and a face radiant with intelligence, while circled by an attentive
+auditory of that which was noblest and best in their world, his eloquent
+enthusiasm made them hear the rushing waters, see the boundless
+prairies, and feel for a time all the wild freedom of the untamed West.
+Such enthusiasm was gladly welcomed as a breeze in the still air, a
+ruffle in the stagnant waters of fashionable life.
+
+Within two or three days of their intended departure, Mrs. Oswald
+proposed to Philip that they should visit a friend residing near Fort
+Lee, and invited Mary to accompany them. Among the acquaintances whom
+they found on board was an invalid lady, who could not bear the fresh
+air upon deck; and Mary, pitying her loneliness and seclusion, remained
+for awhile conversing with her in the cabin. Mrs. Oswald and Philip were
+on deck, and near them was a young and giddy girl, to whose care a
+mother had intrusted a bold, active, joyous infant, seemingly about
+eight months old.
+
+"That is a dangerous position for so lively a child," said Philip Oswald
+to the young nurse, as he saw her place him on the side of the boat; "he
+may spring from your arms overboard."
+
+With that foolish tempting of the danger pointed out by another, which
+we sometimes see even in women, the girl removed her arms from around
+the child, sustaining only a slight hold of its frock. At this moment
+the flag of the boat floated within view of the little fellow, and he
+sprang towards it. A splash in the water told the rest--but even before
+that was heard, Philip Oswald had dashed off his boots and coat, and
+the poor child had scarcely touched the waves when he was beside it, and
+held it encircled in his arm.
+
+"Oh, Mary! Mr. Oswald! Mr. Oswald!" cried one of Mary's young
+acquaintances, rushing into the cabin with a face blanched with terror.
+
+"What of him?" questioned Mary, starting eagerly forward.
+
+"He is in the water. Oh, Mary! he will be drowned."
+
+Mary did not utter a sound, yet she felt in that moment, for the first
+time, how important to her was Philip Oswald's life. Tottering towards
+the door, she leaned against it for a moment while all around grew dark,
+and strange sounds were buzzing in her ears. The next instant she sank
+into a chair and lost her terrors in unconsciousness. The same young
+lady who had played the alarmist to her, as she saw the paleness of
+death settle on Mary's face and her eyes close, ran again upon the deck,
+exclaiming, "Mary Grayson is fainting,--pray come to Mary Grayson."
+
+Philip Oswald was already on deck, dripping indeed, but unharmed and
+looking nobler than ever, as he held the recovered child in his arms. As
+that cry, "Mary Grayson is fainting," reached his ears, he threw the
+infant to a bystander, and hastened to the cabin followed by Mrs.
+Oswald.
+
+"What has caused this?" cried Mrs. Oswald, as she saw Mary still
+insensible, supported on the bosom of her invalid friend.
+
+"Miss Ladson's precipitation," said the invalid, looking not very
+pleasantly on that young lady; "she told her Mr. Oswald was drowning."
+
+"Well, I am sure I thought he was drowning."
+
+"If he had been, it would have been a pity to give such information so
+abruptly," said Mrs. Oswald, as she took off Mary's bonnet, and loosened
+the scarf which was tied around her neck.
+
+"I am sure," exclaimed Miss Ladson, anxious only to secure herself from
+blame,--"I am sure I did not suppose Mary would faint; for when her
+uncle's horse threw him, and every body thought he was killed, instead
+of fainting she ran out in the street, and did for him more than any
+body else could do. I am sure I could not think she would care more for
+Mr. Oswald's danger than for her own uncle's."
+
+No one replied to this insinuation; but that Philip Oswald heard it,
+might have been surmised from the sudden flush that rose to his temples,
+and from his closer clasp of the unconscious form, which at his mother's
+desire he was bearing to a settee. Whether it were the water which oozed
+from his saturated garments over her face and neck, or some subtle
+magnetic fluid conveyed in that tender clasp, that aroused her, we
+cannot tell; but a faint tinge of color revisited her cheeks and lips,
+and as Philip laid her tenderly down, while his arms were still around
+her, and his face was bending over her, she opened her eyes. What there
+was in that first look which called such a sudden flash of joy into
+Philip Oswald's eyes, we know not; nor what were the whispered words
+which, as he bowed his head yet lower, sent a crimson glow into Mary's
+pale cheeks. This however we do know, that Mrs. Oswald and her son
+delayed their journey for yet another week; and that the day before
+their departure Philip Oswald stood with Mary Grayson at his side before
+God's holy altar, and there, in the presence of his mother, Mr. Danby,
+Mr. and Mrs. Randall, and a few friends, they took those vows which made
+them one for ever.
+
+Does some starched prude, or some lady interested in the bride's
+_trousseau_, exclaim against such unseemly haste? We have but one excuse
+for them. They were so unfashionable as to prefer the gratification of a
+true affection to the ceremonies so dear to vanity, and to think more of
+the earnest claims of life than of its gilded pomps.
+
+Mr. Danby had been unable to pay down the bride's small dower of 8000
+dollars; and when he called on his son-in-law, Mr. Randall, to assist
+him, he could only offer to indorse his note to Mr. Oswald for the
+amount, acknowledging that it would be perilous at that time to abstract
+even half that amount from his business. It probably would have been
+perilous indeed, as in little more than a month after he failed for an
+enormous amount; but fear not, reader, for the gentle Caroline: she
+still retained her elegant house and furniture, her handsome equipage
+and splendid jewels. These were only a small part of what the indignant
+creditors found had been made over to her by her grateful husband.
+
+Six years have passed away since the occurrence of the events we have
+been recording. Caroline Randall, weary of the sameness of splendor in
+her home, has been abroad for two years, travelling with a party of
+friends. It is said--convenient phrase that--that her husband had
+declared she must and shall return, and that to enforce his will he has
+resolved to send her no more remittances, to honor no more of her
+drafts, as she has already almost beggared him by her extravagance
+abroad. Verily, she has her reward!
+
+One farewell glance at our favorite, Mary Grayson, and we have done.
+
+Beside a lovely lake, over whose margin light graceful shrubs are
+bending, and on whose transparent waters lie the dense forest shadows,
+though here and there the golden rays of the declining sun flash through
+the tangled boughs upon its dancing waves, a noble-looking boy of four
+years old is sailing his mimic fleet, while a lovely girl, two years
+younger, toddles about, picking "pitty flowers," and bringing them to
+"papa, mamma, or grandmamma," as her capricious fancy prompts. Near by,
+papa, mamma, grandmamma, and one pleased and honored guest, are grouped
+beneath the bending boughs of a magnificent black walnut, and around a
+table on which strawberries and cream, butter sweet as the breath of the
+cows that yielded it, biscuits light and white, and bread as good as
+Humbert himself could make, are served in a style of elegant simplicity,
+while the silver urn in which the water hisses, and the small china cups
+into which the fragrant tea is poured, if they are somewhat antique in
+fashion, are none the less beautiful or the less valued by those who
+still prize the slightest object associated with the affections beyond
+the gratification of the vanity.
+
+The evening meal is over. The shadows grow darker on the lake. Agreeable
+conversation has given place to silent enjoyment, which Mrs. Oswald
+interrupts to say, "Philip, this is the hour for music; let us have some
+before Mary leaves us with the children."
+
+Full, deep-toned was the manly voice that swelled upon that evening air,
+and soft and clear its sweet accompaniment, while the words, full of
+adoring gratitude and love, seemed incense due to the heaven which had
+so blessed them.
+
+The last sweet notes had died away, and Mary, calling the children,
+leads them to their quiet repose, after they have bestowed their
+good-night kisses. Philip Oswald follows her with his eyes, as, with a
+child on each hand, she advances with gentle grace upon the easy slope,
+to the house on its summit. She enters the piazza, and is screened from
+his view by its lattice-work of vines, but he knows that soon his
+children will be lisping their evening prayer at her knee, and the
+thought calls a tender expression to his eyes as he turns them away from
+his "sweet home."
+
+Contrast this picture with that of Caroline Randall's heartless
+splendor, and say whether thou wilt choose for thy portion the
+gratification of the true and pure household affections which Heaven has
+planted in thy nature, or that of a selfish vanity?
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+
+This morning, as I sat in the library writing a letter, Annie came in
+and seated herself at a table on the opposite side of the room. Her
+unusual stillness caused me to look up after some minutes, and I found
+that Mr. Arlington's portfolio having been left upon the table, she had
+drawn from it one of his pencilings, and was gazing steadfastly upon it,
+as I could not but think, with something troubled in the expression of
+her usually open and cheerful face. While I was still observing her, the
+door behind her opened, and Mr. Arlington himself entered. A blush arose
+to Annie's cheeks as she saw him; a blush which had its origin, I
+thought, in some deeper feeling than a mere girlish shame at being found
+so engrossed by one of his productions.
+
+"What have you there?" he asked, as seating himself beside her, he took
+the paper from what seemed to me her somewhat reluctant hand. No sooner
+had he looked on it, than his own bright face became shadowed, as hers
+had been, and yet he smiled, too, as he said, "That portfolio is really
+an _omnium gatherum_. I had no idea this had found its way there. When I
+first read Mrs. Hemans' poem of 'The Bird's Release,' it reminded me of
+this scene of my boyhood, though if I have never spoken to you of my
+darling Grace, you will not be able to understand why."
+
+"You never have," said Annie, answering his looks rather than his words,
+while a slight increase of color was again perceptible in her fair
+cheek.
+
+"She was my sister, my only sister; we were but two, the petted darlings
+of a widowed mother. I told you, that few could sympathize as I could
+with Körner's memory of Mother-love. I was but six years old, and just
+such a chubby, broad-shouldered little varlet, I fancy, as I have
+sketched here, when Grace, who was two years older, and the loveliest,
+merriest little creature in the world, died. My mother was already
+beginning to feel the influence of that disease, which, two years later,
+terminated her life, and, I have no doubt, the death of Grace, who was
+her idol, increased the rapidity of its progress."
+
+There was silence for some minutes, and then Annie said softly, "But
+what of the bird?"
+
+"It was a thrush which had been given to Grace some time before her
+death, and which she was trying to tame for me. My mother could not bear
+to see it after her death, and with some difficulty persuaded me to give
+it its liberty. You will now see why I should have dedicated this sketch
+to Grace, and why these lines should have brought the scene to my mind,
+and caused me indeed to make this drawing of it."
+
+"Will you read the lines for me?" asked Annie, "I had not finished them
+when you took the paper from me."
+
+To tell you a secret, reader, I do not believe she had seen any thing on
+the paper except the few words in German text written at its head, "To
+my darling Grace."
+
+Mr. Arlington read in a tone of feeling and interest,--
+
+
+THE BIRD'S RELEASE.
+
+BY MRS. HEMANS.
+
+      Go forth, for she is gone!
+    With the golden light of her wavy hair
+    She is gone to the fields of the viewless air:
+      She hath left her dwelling lone!
+
+      Her voice hath pass'd away!
+    It hath passed away like a summer breeze,
+    When it leaves the hills for the for blue seas,
+      Where we may not trace its way.
+
+      Go forth, and like her be free:
+    With thy radiant wing, and thy glancing eye,
+    Thou hast all the range of the sunny sky,
+      And what is our grief to thee?
+
+      Is it aught even to her we mourn?
+    Doth she look on the tears by her kindred shed?
+    Doth she rest with the flowers o'er her gentle head?
+      Or float on the light wind borne?
+
+      We know not--but she is gone!
+    Her step from the dance, her voice from the song,
+    And the smile of her eye from the festal throng;
+      She hath loft her dwelling lone!
+
+      When the waves at sunset shine,
+    We may hear thy voice amidst thousands more,
+    In the scented woods of our glowing shore;
+      But we shall not know 'tis thine!
+
+      Even so with the loved one flown!
+    Her smile in the starlight may wander by,
+    Her breath may be near in the wind's low sigh
+      Around us--but all unknown.
+
+      Go forth, we have loosed thy chains!
+    We may deck thy cage with the richest flowers
+    Which the bright day rears in our eastern bowers;
+      But thou wilt not be lured again.
+
+      Even thus may the summer pour
+    All fragrant things on the land's green breast,
+    And the glorious earth like a bride be dress'd;
+      But it wins _her_ back no more!
+
+I was doubtful whether either Mr. Arlington or Annie were aware of my
+presence, and was just debating with myself whether I should make them
+aware of it by addressing them, or quietly steal away, when Col.
+Donaldson decided the point by entering the library and speaking to me.
+He came to ask that I would come to the parlor and see a boy who had
+just been sent from one of our charitable institutions, to which he had
+applied for a lad to act as a helper to his old waiter, John, who was
+now old enough to require some indulgence, and had always been
+trustworthy enough to deserve some. The boy looked intelligent and
+honest--he was neat in his person and active in his movements.
+
+"He is an orphan," said Col. Donaldson, "and the managers of the
+institution have offered to bind him to me for seven years, or till he
+is of age. What do you think of it!"
+
+"If the boy himself be willing, I should be glad to know he was so well
+provided for," I replied; "though in general, no abolitionist can be
+more vehemently opposed to negro slavery than I am to this
+apprenticeship business. What is it but a slavery of the worst
+description? The master is endowed with irresponsible power, without the
+interest in the well-being of his slave, which the planter, the actual
+owner of slaves, ordinarily feels."
+
+"You speak strongly," said Col. Donaldson.
+
+"I feel strongly on this subject," I answered. "I knew one instance of
+the effects of this system which I have often thought of publishing to
+the world, as speaking more powerfully against it than a thousand
+addresses could do."
+
+"Tell it to us, Aunt Nancy," said Robert Dudley.
+
+"It is too long to tell now," said I, as the dinner-bell sounded.
+
+"Then let us have it this evening," urged Col. Donaldson--"for it is a
+subject in which I am much interested."
+
+Accordingly, in the evening, I gave them the "o'er true tale" of
+
+
+THE YOUNG MISANTHROPE.
+
+"In the blue summer ocean, far off and alone," lies a little island,
+known to mariners in the Pacific only for the fine water with which it
+supplies them, and for the bold shore which makes it possible for ships
+of considerable tonnage to lie in quiet near the land. Discovered at
+first by accident, it has been long, for these reasons, visited both by
+English and American whalers. A few years since, and no trace of man's
+presence could be found there beyond the belt of rocks, amidst which
+arose the springs that were the chief, and indeed only attraction the
+island presented to the rough, hardy men by whom it had been visited.
+But within that stony girdle lay a landscape soft and lovely as any that
+arose within the tropical seas. There the plantain waved its leafy
+crown, the orange shed its rich perfume, and bore its golden fruit aloft
+upon the desert air, and the light, feathery foliage of the tamarind
+moved gracefully to the touch of the dallying breeze. All was green, and
+soft, and fair, for there no winter chills the life of nature, but,
+
+    "The bee banquets on through a whole year of flowers."
+
+It was a scene which might have seemed created for the abode of some
+being too bright and good for the common earth of common men, or for
+some Hinda and Hafed, who, driven from a world all too harsh and evil
+for their nobler natures, might have found in it a refuge,
+
+    "Where the bright eyes of angels only
+    Should come around them to behold
+    A paradise so pure and lonely."
+
+Alas for the dream of the poet! This beautiful island became the refuge,
+not of pure and loving hearts, but of one from whose nature cruel
+tyranny seemed to have blotted out every feeling and every faculty save
+hatred and fear; and he who first introduced into its yet untainted
+solitudes the bitter sorrows and dark passions of humanity, was a child,
+who, but ten years before, had lain in all the loveliness of sinless
+infancy upon a mother's bosom. Of that mother's history he knew
+nothing--whether her sin or only her sorrows had thrown him fatherless
+upon the world, he was ignorant--he had only a dim memory of gentle
+eyes, which had looked on him as no others had ever looked, and of a
+low, sweet voice, speak to him such words as he had never heard from any
+other. He had been loved, and that love had made his life of penury in
+an humble hovel in England, bright and beautiful; but his mother had
+passed away from earth, and with her all the light of his existence.
+Child as he was, the succeeding darkness preserved long in brightness
+the memory of the last look from her fast glazing eyes, the last words
+from her dying lips, the last touch of her already death-cold hand. She
+died, and the same reluctant charity which consigned her to a pauper's
+grave, gave to her boy a dwelling in the parish poor-house. With the
+tender mercies of such institutions the author of Oliver Twist has made
+the world acquainted. They were such in the present case, that the poor
+little Edward Hallett welcomed as the first glad words that had fallen
+on his ears for two long, weary years, the news that he was to be bound
+apprentice to a captain sailing from Portsmouth in a whaling ship. He
+learned rather from what was said _near_ him, than _to_ him, that this
+man wanted a cabin boy, but would not have one who was not bound to him,
+or to use the more expressive language in which it reached the ears of
+his destined victim, "one with whom he could not do as he pleased."
+
+He who had come within the poor-house walls at six years old, a glad,
+rosy-cheeked, chubby child, went from them at eight, thin, and pale, and
+grave, with a frame broken by want and labor, a mind clouded, and a
+heart repressed by unkindness. But, sad as was the history of those
+years, the succeeding two taught the poor boy to regard them as the
+vanished brightness of a dream. The man--we should more justly say, the
+fiend--to whom the next fourteen years of his life were by bond devoted,
+was a savage by nature, and had been rendered yet more brutal by habits
+of intoxication. In his drunken orgies, his favorite pastime was to
+torture the unfortunate being whom the "guardians of the poor" of an
+English parish had placed in his power. It would make the heart of the
+reader sick, were we to attempt a detail of the many horrible inventions
+by which this modern Caligula amused his leisure hours, and made life
+hideous to his victim. Nor was it only from this arch-fiend that the
+poor boy suffered. Mate, cook, and sailors, soon found in him a butt for
+their jokes, an object on which they might safely vent their ill-humor,
+and a convenient cover for their own delinquencies.
+
+He was beaten for and by them. The evil qualities which man had himself
+elicited from his nature, if not implanted there--the sullenness, and
+hardiness, and cunning he evinced, were made an excuse for further
+injury. During his first voyage of eighteen months, spite of all this,
+hope was not entirely dead in his heart. The ship was to return to
+England, and he determined to run away from her, and find his way back
+to the poor-house. It was a miserable refuge, but it was his only one.
+He escaped--he found his way thither through many dangers--he told his
+story. It was heard with incredulity, and he was returned to his
+tormentors, to learn that there is even in hell "a deeper hell."
+
+Again he went on a whaling voyage. Day after day the fathomless, the
+seemingly illimitable sea, the image of the Infinite was around him--but
+his darkened mind saw in it only a prison, which shut him in with his
+persecutors. Night after night the stars beamed peacefully above him,
+luring his thoughts upward, but he saw in them only the signals of
+drunken revelry to others, and of deeper woe to himself. There was but
+one wish in his heart--it had almost ceased to be a hope--to escape from
+man; to live and die where he should never see his form, never hear his
+voice. The ship encountered a severe storm. She was driven from her
+course, her voyage lengthened, and some of her water-casks were stove
+in. They made for an island, not far distant, by the chart, to take in a
+fresh supply of water. Edward Hallett heard the sailors say to each
+other that this island was uninhabited, and his wish grew into a
+passionate desire--a hope. For the completion of this hope, he had but
+one resource--the sword and the shield of the feeble--cunning; and well
+he exercised his weapon.
+
+The ship lay within a quarter of a mile of the shore, and a boat was
+sent to procure water--one man remaining always to fill the empty
+vessels while the others returned to the ship with those already filled.
+The best means of accomplishing his purpose that occurred to the poor
+boy was to feign the utmost degree of terror at the lonely and
+unprotected situation of this man during the absence of his comrades. He
+spoke his terrors where he knew they would be heard by the prime author
+of his miseries. The result was what he had anticipated.
+
+"Ye're afraid, are ye, of being left there by yerself! Ye'd rather be
+whipped, or tied up by the thumbs, or be kept at the mast-head all
+night, would ye? Then, dam'me, that's just what I'll do to you. Here,
+hold on with that boat--take this youngster with you, and you can bring
+back Tom, and leave him to fill the casks for you."
+
+Well did the object of his tyranny act his part. He entreated, he
+adjured all around him to save him from so dreaded a fate--in vain, of
+course--for his affected agonies only riveted the determination of his
+tyrant. It was a new delight to see him writhe in agony, and strive to
+draw back from those who were urging him to the boat. He was forced in,
+borne to the island, and left to his task. But this was not enough. He
+could not escape in the broad light of day, from a spot directly under
+the eyes of his tormentors, while between him and the ship a boat was
+ever coming and going. Through the day he must persist in the part he
+had assumed. He did not fail to continue it, and when the day approached
+its close, he sent to the ship the most urgent entreaties that he might
+be allowed to return there before it was night. The sailors, rough and
+hard as they generally were to him, sympathized with his agony of fear,
+and asked that he might return; but his demon was now inflamed by drink,
+and every word in favor of his petition insured its rejection. He even
+made the unusual exertion of going up himself in the last boat, that he
+might see the victim of his malice, and feast his ears with the cries
+and objurgations which terror would wring from him.
+
+"If we should forget you in the morning, you can take the next homeward
+bound ship that stops here, but don't tell your friends at the
+poor-house too bad a tale of us," were the parting words of this wretch.
+
+Darkness and silence were around the desolate boy, but they brought no
+fear with them. Man, his enemy, was not there. He saw not the beauty of
+the heavens, from which the stars looked down on him in their unchanged
+serenity, or of the earth, where flowers were springing at his feet, and
+graceful shrubs were waving over him. He heard not the deep-toned sea
+uttering its solemn music, or the breeze whispering its softer notes in
+his ear. He only saw the ship, the abode of men, fading into
+indistinctness, as the darkness threw its veil over it; he only heard
+the voice in his heart, proclaiming ever and again, "I am free." Before
+the morrow dawned, he had surmounted the rocks at the landing place, and
+wandered on with no aim, but to put as great a distance as possible
+between him and the ship. Two hours' walking brought him again to the
+sea, in an opposite direction to that by which he had approached the
+island. Here he crawled into a hiding-place among the rocks, and lay
+down to rest. The day was again declining before he ventured forth from
+his covert, and cautiously approached the distant shore, whence he might
+see the ship. He reached the spring by which he had stood yester eve,
+when his companions parted from him, with something like pity stirring
+in the hearts of all but one among them. Fearfully he looked
+around--before him--but no shadow on the earth, no sail upon the
+pathless sea, told of man's presence. He was alone--alone indeed, for
+the beauty of Nature aroused no emotion in his withered heart, and he
+held no communion with Nature's God. He was indeed an orphaned soul.
+Could he have loved, had it been but a simple flower, he would have felt
+something of the joy of life; but the very power of love seemed to have
+been crushed from his heart, by years of cold neglect and harsh
+unkindness.
+
+Weeks, months passed, without any event that might awaken the young
+solitary from his torpor. By day, he roved through the island, or lay
+listlessly under the shadow of a tree; by night, he slept beneath the
+rocks which had first sheltered him; while the fruits, that grew and
+ripened without his care, gave him food. Thus he lived a merely animal
+life, his strongest sensation one of satisfaction for his relief from
+positive suffering, but with nothing that could be called joy in the
+present, and with no hope for the future; one to whom God had given an
+immortal spirit, capable of infinite elevation in the scale of
+intelligence and happiness, and whom man had pressed down to--ay,
+below--the level of the brutes, which sported away their brief existence
+at his side. Such tyranny as he had experienced, is rare; but its
+results may well give an impressive, a fearful lesson, to those to whom
+are committed the destinies of a being unconnected with them by any of
+those ties which awaken tenderness, and call forth indulgence in the
+sternest minds. Let them beware, lest the "iron rule" crush out the life
+of the young heart, and darken the intellect by extinguishing the light
+of hope.
+
+Terrible was the retribution which his crimes wrought out for the author
+of our young hero's miseries. When he received the intelligence from the
+men whom he had sent in the morning to bring him from the island, that
+he was nowhere to be found, he read in their countenance what his own
+heart was ready to repeat to him, that he was his murderer; for neither
+they nor he doubted that the terrified boy had rushed into the sea, and
+been drowned in the effort to escape the horrors raised by his wild and
+superstitious fancy. From that hour his persecutor suffered tortures as
+great as his bitterest enemies could have desired to inflict on him. The
+images which drove him with increased eagerness to the bottle, became
+more vivid and terrific under the influence of intoxication. He drank
+deeper and deeper, in the vain hope to banish them, and died ere many
+months had passed, shouting, in his last moments, alternate prayers and
+curses to the imagined form of him whom he supposed the hope of revenge
+had conjured from the ocean grave to which his cruelties had consigned
+him.
+
+Five months passed over Edward Hallett, in the dead calm of an existence
+agitated by neither hope nor fear. The calm was broken one evening by
+the sight of a seaman, drawing water from the spring which had brought
+his former companions to the island. As he came in sight, the man turned
+his head, and stood for an instant spell-bound by the unexpected vision
+of a human being on that island, whose matted locks and tattered
+garments spoke the extreme of misery. There was only one hope for the
+sad wild boy--it was in flight--and turning, he ran swiftly back; but
+the path was strewn with rocks, and, in his haste, he stumbled and fell.
+In a moment his pursuer stood beside him, acclaiming in a coarse, but
+kindly meant language:--
+
+"What the devil are you runnin' away from me for, youngster?--I'm sure I
+wouldn't hurt ye--but get up, and tell us what you're doing here, and
+where ye've come from."
+
+The speaker attempted, while addressing the boy, to raise him from the
+ground, but he resisted all his efforts, and met all his questioning
+with sullen silence.
+
+"By the powers, I'm thinking I've caught a wild man. I wonder if there's
+any more of 'em. If I can only get this one aboard, he'll make my
+fortune. I'll try for it, any how, and offer the capting to go shares
+with my bargain;" and he proceeded to lift the slight form of the pauper
+boy in his brawny arms, and bear him to the boat, which, during the
+scene, had approached the shore. One who had had less experience of the
+iron nature of man, would have endeavored, in Edward Hallett's
+circumstances, to move his captor by entreaties to leave him to his
+dearly prized freedom; but he had long believed, with the poet,
+
+    "There is no pulse in man's obdurate heart--
+    It does not feel for man;"
+
+and after the first wild struggle, which had only served to show that
+he was an infant in the hands of the strong seaman, he abandoned himself
+to his fate, in silent despair. With closed eyes and lips, he suffered
+himself, without a movement, to be borne to the boat, and deposited in
+it, amidst the many uncouth and characteristic exclamations of his
+captor and his companions, who would not be convinced that it was really
+a child of the human race, thus strangely found on this isolated spot.
+Hastily they bore him to the ship, which the providence of God had sent,
+under the guidance of a kind and noble spirit, for the salvation of
+this, his not forgotten, though long tried creature.
+
+Captain Durbin, of the barque Good Intent, was one who combined, in no
+usual degree, the qualities of boldness and energy with the kindest, the
+tenderest, and most generous feelings. These were wrought into beautiful
+harmony, by the Christian principles which had long governed his life,
+and from which he had learned to be, at the same time, "diligent in
+business" and "kindly affectioned"--to have no _fear_ of man, and to
+love his brother, whom he had seen, as the best manifestation of
+devotion to God, whom he had not seen. Perhaps he had escaped the usual
+effect of his rough trade, in hardening the manners, at least, by the
+influence on him of his only child, a little girl, now six years old,
+who was his constant companion, even in his voyages. Little Emily Durbin
+had lost her mother when she was only two years old. The circumstances
+of her own childhood had wrought into the mind of the dying Mrs. Durbin,
+the conviction that only a parent is a fitting guardian for a child. To
+all argument on this subject she would reply, "It seems to me that God
+has put so much love into a parent's heart, only that he may bear with
+all a child's waywardness, which other people can't be expected to bear
+with."
+
+True to her principles, she had exacted a promise from her husband, in
+her dying hour, that he would never part from their Emily. The promise
+had been sacredly kept.
+
+"I will retire from sea as soon as I have enough to buy a place on
+shore, for Emily's sake; but till then, her home must be in my cabin.
+She is under God's care there, as well as on shore, and perhaps it would
+be better for her, should I be lost at sea, to share my fate." Such were
+the remarks of Captain Durbin, in reply to the well-meant remonstrances
+of his friends.
+
+Emily had a little hammock slung beside his own--the books in which he
+taught her made a large part of his library; and he who had seen her
+kneel beside her father to lisp her childish prayer, or who had heard
+the simple, beautiful faith with which she commended herself to the care
+of her Father in Heaven, when the waves roared and the winds howled
+around her floating home, would have felt, perhaps, that the most
+important end of life, the cultivation of those affections that connect
+us with God and with our fellow-creatures, might be attained as
+perfectly there as elsewhere.
+
+The astonishment of Captain Durbin and the pity of his gentle child may
+be conceived, at the sight of the poor boy, who was brought up from the
+boat by his captor and owner, as he considered himself, and laid at
+their feet, while they sat together in their cabin--he writing in his
+log-book, and she conning her evening lesson. To the proposition that he
+should give the prize so strangely obtained a free passage, and share in
+the advantages to be gained by its exhibition in America, Captain Durbin
+replied by showing the disappointed seaman the impossibility of the
+object of these speculations being some product of Nature's freaks--some
+hitherto unknown animal, with the form, but without the faculties of
+man.
+
+"Do you not see that he has clothes----"
+
+"Clothes do ye call them!" interrupted the blunt sailor, touching the
+pieces of cloth that hung around, but no longer covered the thin limbs.
+
+"Rags, perhaps I had better say--but the rags have been clothes, woven
+and sewn by man's hands--so he must have lived among men--civilized
+men--and he has grown but little, as you may perceive, since those
+clothes were made--therefore, he cannot have been long on the island."
+
+"But how did he get there? Who'd leave a baby like this there by
+himself?"
+
+"That we may never know, for the boy must either be an idiot--which he
+does not look like, however--or insane, or dumb--but let that be as it
+will, we will do our duty by him, and I thank God for having sent us
+here in time to save him."
+
+The master of the ship usually gives the tone to those whom he commands,
+and Captain Durbin found no difficulty in obtaining the help of his men
+in his kind intentions to the boy so strangely brought amongst them. By
+kind, yet rough hands, he was washed, his hair was cut and combed, and a
+suit of clean, though coarse garments, hastily fitted to him by the best
+tailor among them--fitted, not with the precision of Stultz certainly,
+but sufficiently well to enable him to walk in them without danger of
+walking on them or of leaving them behind. But he showed no intention of
+availing himself of these capabilities. Wherever they carried him he
+went without resistance--wherever they placed him he remained--he ate
+the food that was offered him--but no word escaped his lips, no
+voluntary movement was made by him, no look marked his consciousness of
+aught that passed before him. He had again assumed his only shield from
+violence--cunning. He could account in no way for his being left
+unmolested, except from the belief, freely expressed before him, that
+nature, by depriving him of intelligence, or of speech, had unfitted him
+for labor, and he resolved to do nothing that should unsettle that
+belief. But he found it more difficult than he had supposed it would be
+to preserve this resolution, for he was subjected to the action of a
+more potent influence than any he had yet encountered--kindness. All
+were ready to show him this in its common forms, but none so touchingly
+or so tenderly as the little Emily Durbin. It was a beautiful sight to
+see that gentle child, with eyes blue as the heavens, whose pure and
+lovely spirit they seemed to mirror, gazing up at the dark boy as though
+she hoped to catch some ray of the awakening spirit flitting over the
+handsome but stolid features. Sometimes she would sit beside him, take
+his hand in hers, or stroke gently the dark locks that began again to
+hang in neglected curls around his face, and speak to him in the
+tenderest accents, saying, "I love you very much, pretty boy, and my
+father loves you too, and we all love you--don't you love us?--but you
+can't tell me--I forgot that--never mind, I'll ask our Heavenly Father
+to make you talk. Don't you know Jesus made the dumb to speak when he
+was here on earth? Did you ever hear about it? Poor boy! you can't
+answer me--but I'll tell you all about it:" and then in her sweet words
+and pitying voice she would tell of the Saviour of men--how he had made
+the deaf to hear and the dumb to speak, and she would repeat his lessons
+of love, dwelling often on her favorite text, "This is my commandment,
+that ye love one another--even as I have loved you, that ye also love
+one another."
+
+Thus by this babe, God was in his love leading the chilled heart of that
+poor, desolate boy, back to himself--to hope--to heaven. It was
+impossible that the dew of mercy should thus, day by day and hour by
+hour, distil upon a spirit indurated by man's cruelties, without
+softening it. Edward Hallett began to love that sweet child, to listen
+to her step and voice, to gaze upon her fair face, to return her loving
+looks, and to long to tell her all his story. Emily became aware of the
+new expression in his face, and redoubled her manifestations of
+interest. She entreated that he should be brought in when her father
+read the Bible and prayed with her, night and morning. "Who knows, it
+may be that our Heavenly Father will make him hear us," was her simple
+and pathetic response to Captain Durbin's assurance that it was useless,
+as he either could not or would not understand them. Never had Edward
+Hallett's resolution been more severely tried than when he saw her
+kneel, with clasped hands and uplifted face, at her father's knee, and
+heard her pray in her own simple words that "God would bless the poor
+little dumb boy whom he had sent to them, and that he would make him
+speak, and give him a good heart, that he might love them." Captain
+Durbin turned his eyes upon the object of her prayer at that moment, and
+he almost thought that his lips moved, and was quite certain that his
+eyes glistened with emotion. From this time he was as anxious as Emily
+herself for the attendance of the strange boy at their devotions.
+
+For many weeks the ship had sped across that southern sea with light and
+favoring breezes, but at length there came a storm. The heavens were
+black with clouds--the wind swept furiously over the ocean, and drove
+its wild waves in tremendous masses against the reeling ship. Captain
+Durbin was a bold sailor, as we have said, and he had weathered many a
+storm in his trim barque; but Emily knew by the way in which he pressed
+her to his heart this night, before he laid her, not in her hammock, but
+on the narrow floor of his state-room, and by the tone in which he
+ejaculated, "God bless you, and take care of you, my beloved
+child!"--that there was more danger tonight than they had ever before
+encountered together; and as he was leaving her she drew him back and
+said, "Father, I can't sleep, and I should like to talk to the little
+dumb boy; won't you bring him here, and let him sit on my mattress with
+me?"
+
+Captain Durbin brought Edward Hallett and placed him beside Emily,
+where, by bracing themselves against the wall of the state-room, they
+might prevent their being dashed about by the rolling of the vessel.
+Emily welcomed him with an affectionate smile, and taking his hand,
+which now sometimes answered the clasp of hers, told him that he must
+not be afraid, though there was a great storm, for their Father in
+Heaven could deliver them out of it if it were His will, and if it were
+not, He would take them to himself, if they loved Him, and loved one
+another as the blessed Saviour had commanded them. "And you know we must
+die some way," continued the sweet young preacher, "and father says it
+is just as easy to go to Heaven from the sea as from any other place."
+She paused a moment, and then added in a low tone, "But I think I had
+rather die on shore, and be buried by my mother in the green, shady
+church-yard--it is so quiet there."
+
+Emily crept nearer and nearer to her young companion as she spoke, with
+that clinging to human love and care which is felt by the hardest breast
+in moments of dread. His heart was beating high with the tenderest and
+the happiest emotions he had ever known, when a wave sweeping over the
+deck of the ship, and breaking through the skylight, came tumbling in
+upon them. It forced them asunder, and the falling of their lantern at
+the same moment left them in darkness amidst the tossing of the ship,
+the rolling of the furniture, and the noise of the many waters. Edward
+Hallett's first thought was for Emily;--he felt for her on every side,
+but she was not in the state-room; he groped his way into the cabin, but
+he could not find her, and he heard no sound that told of her existence.
+In terror for her, self was forgotten--love conquered fear, as it had
+already obtained the empire over hate, and he called her--"Emily--dear
+Emily!--hear me--answer me, Emily?"
+
+He listened in vain for the faint voice for which he thirsted. Suddenly
+he bounded up the cabin steps and rushed to the post at which he knew
+Captain Durbin was most likely to be found in such a scene, crying as he
+went, "Emily! Emily! oh bring a light and look for Emily!"
+
+The shrill cry of a human heart in agony was heard above the bellowing
+of the winds and the rush of the waves, and without waiting for a
+question, without heeding even the miracle that the dumb had spoken,
+Captain Durbin hastened below, followed by his agitated summoner. As
+quickly as his trembling hands permitted, he struck a light and looked
+around for his child. She had been dashed against a chest, and lay pale
+and seemingly lifeless, with the red blood oozing slowly from a cut in
+the temple. Edward Hallett had lifted her before Captain Durbin could
+lay aside his light, and as he approached him, looking up with a face
+almost as pale as that which lay upon his arm, he exclaimed, "Oh, sir,
+surely she is not dead!"
+
+It was not till Emily had again opened her soft eyes and assured her
+father that she was not much hurt, that any notice was taken of the very
+unusual fact of Edward Hallett's speaking.
+
+"Father, how did you know I was hurt?"
+
+"He whom we have thought a dumb boy called me, and told me he could not
+find you," said Captain Durbin, looking earnestly, almost sternly at
+Edward, who colored as he felt that eyes he dared not meet were upon
+him. But the gentle, loving Emily took his hand, and said, "Did our good
+Heavenly Father make you speak?--I am so glad--please speak to me!"
+
+Edward could not raise his eyes to hers, but covering his face with his
+other hand, he fell on his knees, saying to her and Captain Durbin, "I
+am afraid it was very wicked, but indeed I couldn't help it. I could
+speak all the time, Emily, but I was afraid of being beaten as I used to
+be, if I seemed like other people--now if they beat me I must bear
+it--better for me to be beaten than to have Emily lie there with no one
+to help her."
+
+"But who is going to beat you? Nobody will beat you--we all love
+you--don't we, father?" cried Emily, bending forward and putting her arm
+around the neck of her _protégé_.
+
+"We must hear first whether he is worthy of our love, my dear," said
+Captain Durbin, as he attempted to withdraw his daughter's arm, and to
+make her lie down again--but Edward had seized the little hand and held
+it around his neck, while he exclaimed in the most imploring tones, "Oh,
+sir I let Emily love me--nobody else except my poor mother ever loved
+me. Beat me as much as you please, and I will not say a word, but oh!
+pray, sir! don't tell Emily she must not love me."
+
+"And, father, if he were wicked, you know you told me once that we must
+love the wicked and try to do them good, because our Father in Heaven
+loved us while we were yet sinners," urged Emily.
+
+That gentle voice could not be unheeded, and as Captain Durbin kissed
+her, he laid his hand kindly on the boy's head, saying in more friendly
+tones, "I hope he has not been wicked, but we will hear more about it
+to-morrow--I cannot stay longer with you now, and you must lie still
+just where I have put you, or you may roll out and get hurt. We shall
+have a rough sea most of the night, though, thank God! no danger, for
+the wind had shifted and slackened a little before that great wave swept
+you away!"
+
+"May I not stay by Emily, sir, and tell her what made me not speak? I
+will not let her sit up again."
+
+"Oh, yes! do, father, let him stay till you come down again."
+
+Captain Durbin consented, and when he came down again at midnight from
+the deck, the children had both fallen asleep, but their hands were
+clasped in each other's, and the flushed cheeks and dewy lashes of both
+showed that they had been weeping. The next morning Captain Durbin heard
+the story of the orphan boy. Emily Durbin stood beside him while he told
+it, and he needed the courage which her presence gave him, for his cowed
+spirit could not yet rise to confidence in man. The mingled indignation
+and pity with which Captain Durbin heard the simple but touching
+narrative of his life--the earnest kindness with which, at the
+conclusion, he drew him to his side, and told him that he would be his
+father, and Emily his sister, adding, "God gave you to me, and as His
+gift I will love you and care for you," first taught him that his friend
+Emily was not the one only angel of mercy in our world. As time passed
+on, and Captain Durbin kept well the promise of those words, instructing
+him with care and guarding him with tenderness as well as with fidelity,
+his faith became firm, not only in his fellow-men, but in Him who had
+brought such great good for him out of the darkest evil. His long
+repressed affections sprang into vigorous growth, his intellect expanded
+rapidly in their glow, his eye grew bright, his step elastic, and his
+whole air redolent of a joy which none but those who have suffered as he
+had done can conceive. In the handsome youth who returned two years
+afterwards with Captain Durbin to Boston, and who walked so proudly at
+his side, leading Emily by the hand, few could have recognized the wild
+boy of that western Island.
+
+Such was the transformation which the spirit of love, breathing itself
+through the lips of a little child, had effected. "Verily, of such"
+children "is the kingdom of heaven."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+
+The entertainment of the evening gave its character to our conversation
+on the following morning. It was a conversation too grave for
+introduction into a work intended only to aid in the entertainment of
+festive hours: it commenced with the English "poor-laws," and ended with
+a discussion of the tenure of property in that land, and the wisdom of
+our own republican fathers in abolishing entails--a subject affording a
+fair opportunity to us Americans, to indulge a little in that
+self-glorification which we are accused of loving so well.
+
+"What a curious book would a 'History of Entails' be!" exclaimed Mr.
+Arlington, "how full of the romance of life!"
+
+"Romance!" ejaculated Annie.
+
+"Yes, romance; for under this system, the poor man, whose life seemed
+doomed to one unbroken struggle with fortune, for the necessaries of
+existence, finds himself, by some unexpected casualty, the possessor of
+rank, and of what seems to him boundless wealth."
+
+"Ah, yes!" said I, "but you have given us only the bright side of the
+picture. To make room for this stranger, whose only connection with the
+house of which he has so unexpectedly become the head is probably that
+preserved in genealogical tables, the daughters of the house, or their
+children it may be, reared in luxury, must go forth to a life of
+comparative privation. I met, some years ago, in one of my visits to the
+Far West, a young Englishman, who--but I will read you the story of his
+life, as I wrote it out soon after parting with him."
+
+"Have you a picture of him, Aunt Nancy?" asked Robert Dudley.
+
+"Yes, Robert," I replied with a smile, "but you must have patience, for
+I shall neither show the picture nor tell the story till evening."
+
+When we were assembled in the evening, Annie, with much ceremony, led me
+to the high-backed arm-chair, which she called the Speaker's Chair, and
+placed before me the small travelling desk, in which she knew my
+manuscripts were kept. I unlocked it, and soon found the scroll of which
+I was in search.
+
+"But the picture, Aunt Nancy--where is the picture?" cried the eager
+Robert.
+
+"Here it is," I cried, as I loosened the ribbon with which the
+manuscript was bound together, and produced a small engraving; a fancy
+subject, however, rather than an actual portrait, and of no general
+interest. The print was eagerly caught by Robert, and handed around the
+circle, with exclamations of, "How handsome!" "What an exquisite
+picture!" Mr. Arlington looked at it a moment, then, with a smiling
+glance at me, handed it, without a word of comment, to Col. Donaldson.
+
+"The impertinent puppy!" ejaculated the Colonel, "engrossed with his
+hawk and his hound, and wearing such an insolent air of self-absorption
+in the presence of a lady" (for the artist had introduced a lovely young
+maiden in the scene). "Poor girl!" continued the Colonel; "if she were
+in any way connected with him, I am not surprised that she should look
+so sad and reproachful."
+
+Mr. Arlington's smiling glance was again turned on me; and I met it with
+a hearty laugh.
+
+"Indeed, Aunt Nancy," said the Colonel, who seemed strangely annoyed at
+my laughter, "I think your friend does you little credit, and I can
+only hope that he had some of these lordly airs drubbed out of him at
+the West."
+
+As Col. Donaldson spoke he threw down the engraving which he had held,
+and pushed his chair from the table.
+
+"I assure you, sir," I replied, "my friend has as few lordly airs as it
+is possible to conceive in one born to such lordly circumstances. It was
+not my intention to impose on you that picture as an actual likeness of
+him--though had you ever seen him I might easily have done so, as it
+really resembles him very much in his personal traits."
+
+"Well, I am glad he did not sit for this picture," said Col. Donaldson;
+"now I can listen to your story with some pleasure."
+
+"Thank you; you must first take some reflections suggested to me by the
+incidents I have here narrated. Of the character of these reflections,
+you will form some conception from the title I have given to the tale
+into which I have interwoven them. I have called it
+
+
+"LIFE IN AMERICA."
+
+"Men and Manners in America" was the comprehensive title of a book
+issued some fifteen or twenty years ago, by a gentleman from Scotland,
+to whom, we fear, Americans have never tendered the grateful
+acknowledgments he deserved for his disinterested efforts to teach
+them to eat eggs properly, and to give due time to the mastication of
+their food. This benevolently instructive work was the precursor of a
+host of others on the same topics, and others of a kindred character.
+America has been the standard subject for the trial essays of European
+tyros in philosophy, political economy, and book-making in general.
+Society in America has been presented, it would seem, in all its
+aspects--religious, educational, industrial, political, commercial, and
+fashionable. Our schools and our prisons, our churches and our theatres,
+have been in turn the subject of investigation, of unqualified censure,
+and of scarcely less unqualified laudation.
+
+The subject thus dissected, put together, and dissected again, has
+not been able to restrain some wincing and an occasional outcry,
+when the scalpel has been held by a more than usually unskilful
+hand--demonstrations of sensibility which have occasioned apparently as
+much disapprobation as surprise in the anatomists. We flatter ourselves
+that there is peculiar fitness in the metaphor just used, for the outer
+form only of American life has been touched by these various writers.
+Its spirit, that which gives to it its peculiar organization, has evaded
+them as completely as the soul of man evades the keenest investigations
+of the dissecting room. Even of the seat of the spirit--of the point
+whence it sends forth its subtle influences, giving activity and
+direction to every member--of the HOMES of America, they have little
+real knowledge. The anatomist--the reader will pardon the continuation
+of a figure so illustrative of our meaning--the anatomist knows that not
+only can he never hope to lay his finger upon the principle of life, but
+that ere he can pry into those cells in which its mysterious processes
+are evolved, they must have been dismantled of all that could have
+guided him to any certain deductions respecting its nature and mode of
+action. And seldom is the eye of the stranger, never that of the
+professed bookmaker, suffered to rest upon our homes till they have
+undergone changes that will as completely baffle his penetration. Nor is
+this always designedly. It is from a delicate instinct which shrinks
+from subjecting its most sacred and touching emotions to the rude gaze
+and ruder comment of the world.
+
+We have been led to these observations by certain events of which we
+have lately become informed, and which we would here record, as
+illustrative of some peculiarities of social life in America, and
+especially of the new development of character manifested by women under
+the influence of these peculiarities.
+
+The ringing of bells, the firing of cannon, the huzzaing of the
+assembling multitude on the announcement in London of the victory of
+Waterloo, must have seemed a bitter mockery to many a heart, mad with
+the first sharp agony of bereavement. "The few must suffer that the many
+may rejoice," say the statesman and the warrior while they plan new
+conquests. It may be so, but we have at present to do with the
+sufferings of the few.
+
+On the list of the killed in that battle appeared the name of Horace
+Danforth, Captain in the 41st Regiment of Infantry. It was a name of
+little note, but there was one to whom it was the synonyme of all that
+gave beauty or gladness to life; and ere the bells had ceased to sound,
+or the eager crowd to huzza, her heart was still. With her last
+quivering sigh had mingled the wail of a new-born infant.
+
+Thus was Horace Maitland Danforth ushered into life. He had been born at
+the house of his maternal uncle, Sir Thomas Maitland, and as his mother
+had been wholly dependent on this gentleman, and his father had been a
+soldier of fortune, leaving to his son no heritage but his name, he
+continued there, as carefully reared and tenderly regarded as though he
+had been the heir to Maitland Park and to all its dependencies. Though
+Sir Thomas had, for many years after the birth of his nephew intended to
+marry, it was an intention never executed, and when Horace attained his
+twenty-first birthday, his majority was celebrated as that of his
+uncle's heir, and as such he was presented by Sir Thomas Maitland to his
+assembled tenantry. Soon after this event, the Baronet obtained for his
+nephew a right to the name and arms of Maitland--a measure to which,
+knowing little of his father's family, Horace readily consented. Sir
+Thomas Maitland died suddenly while yet in the prime of life, and was
+succeeded by Sir Horace, then twenty-four years of age. In the
+enjoyments of society, of travel, and of those thousand luxuries, mental
+and physical, which fortune secures, three years passed rapidly away
+with the young, handsome, and accomplished Baronet.
+
+One of the earliest convictions of Horace Maitland's life had been, that
+the refining presence of woman was necessary to the perfection of
+Maitland Park, and when Sir Thomas said to him, "Marry, Horace--do not
+be an old bachelor like your uncle"--though he answered nothing, he
+vowed in the inmost recesses of his heart that it should not be his
+fault if he did not obey the injunction. Yet to the world it seemed
+wholly his own fault that at twenty-seven he had not given to Maitland
+Park a mistress, and even he himself could not attribute his continued
+celibacy to the coldness or cruelty of woman; for, in truth, though he
+had "knelt at many a shrine," he had "laid his heart on none." If hardly
+pressed for his reason, he might have said with Ferdinand,--
+
+                    "For several virtues
+    Have I liked several women; never any
+    With so full soul, but some defect in her
+    Did quarrel with the noblest grace she own'd,
+    And put it to the foil."
+
+He who after the death of his uncle continued to urge Sir Horace most on
+the subject of matrimony, was the one of all the world who might have
+been supposed least desirous to see him enter into its bonds. This was
+Edward Maitland, a distant cousin, somewhat younger than himself, to
+whom he had been attached from his boyhood, and who had been saved by
+his generosity from many of those painful experiences to which a very
+narrow income would otherwise have subjected him. It had more than once
+been suggested to Edward Maitland, that should his cousin die
+unmarried, he might not unreasonably hope to become his heir, as he was
+supposed to be uncontrolled by any entail in the disposal of his
+property, and had few nearer relations than himself, and none with whom
+he maintained such intimate and affectionate intercourse. Nor could
+Edward Maitland fail to perceive that his own value in society was in an
+inverse ratio to the chances of the Baronet's marrying, as a report of
+an actual proposal on the part of the latter had more than once
+occasioned a visible declension in the number and warmth of his
+invitations. These considerations appeared, however, only to stimulate
+the young man's activity in the search of a wife for his cousin. Had he
+been employed by a marriage broker with a prospect of a liberal
+commission, he could hardly have been more indefatigable.
+
+"Well, Horace," exclaimed the younger Maitland, as the two sat loitering
+over a late London breakfast one morning, "how did you like the lady to
+whom I introduced you last evening?"
+
+A smile lighted the eyes of Sir Horace as he replied, "Very much,
+Ned--she is certainly intelligent, and has read and thought more than
+most ladies of her age."
+
+"She will make a capital manager, I am sure."
+
+"And an agreeable companion," added Sir Horace.
+
+"And a good wife--do you not think so, Horace?"
+
+"She doubtless would be to one who could fancy her, Ned; for me her
+style is a little too _prononcé_."
+
+"Well, really, Horace, I cannot imagine what you would have. One woman
+is too frivolous--another wants refinement--one is too indolent and
+exacting--and when you can make no other objection, why her style is a
+little too _prononcé_"--the last words were given with ludicrous
+imitation of his cousin's tone. "If an angel were to descend from heaven
+for you, I doubt if you would be suited."
+
+"So do I," replied Horace, with a gay laugh at his cousin's evident
+vexation.
+
+And thus did he meet all Edward's well-intended efforts. The power of
+choice had made him fastidious, and his life of luxury and freedom had
+brought him no experiences of the need of another and gentler self as a
+consoler. But that lesson was approaching.
+
+A call from his lawyer for some papers necessary to complete an
+arrangement in which he was much interested, had sent Sir Horace to
+Maitland Park, in the midst of the London season, to explore the yet
+unfathomed recesses of an old _escritoire_ of Sir Thomas. He had been
+gone but two days when Edward received the following note from him,
+written, as it seemed, both in haste and agitation:--
+
+
+"Come to me immediately on the receipt of this, dear Edward. I have
+found here a paper of the utmost importance to you as well as to me.
+Come quickly--take the chariot and travel post.
+
+"Yours,        H. D. MAITLAND."
+
+
+In less than an hour after the reception of this note Edward Maitland
+was on the road: and travelling with the utmost expedition, he arrived
+at Maitland Park just as the day was fading into dusky eve.
+
+"How is Sir Horace?" he asked of the man who admitted him.
+
+"I do not think he seems very well, sir. You will find him in the
+library, Mr. Edward--shall I announce you, sir?"
+
+"No;" and with hurried steps and anxious heart Edward Maitland trod the
+well-known passages leading to the library.
+
+When he entered that room, Sir Horace was standing at one of its windows
+gazing upon the landscape without, and so absorbed was he that he did
+not move at the opening of the door. Edward spoke, and starting, he
+turned towards him a face haggard with some yet untold suffering. He
+advanced to meet his cousin, and with an almost convulsive grasp of the
+hand, said, "I am glad you have come, Edward,"--then, without heeding
+the anxious inquiries addressed to him by Edward, he rang the bell, and
+ordered lights in a tone which caused them to be brought without a
+moment's delay. As soon as the servant who had brought them had left the
+room, Horace resumed: "Now, Edward, here is the paper of which I wrote
+to you; read it at once."
+
+Agitated by his cousin's manner, Edward took the old stained paper from
+him without a word, and seating himself near the lights, began to read,
+while Sir Horace stood just opposite him, eyeing him intently. In a very
+few minutes Edward looked up with a puzzled air and said, "I do not
+understand one word of it. What does it all mean, Horace?"
+
+"It means that you are Sir Edward Maitland--that you are master
+here--and that I am a beggar."
+
+"Horace, you are mad!" exclaimed the young man, starting from his chair,
+with quivering limbs and a face from which every trace of color had
+departed.
+
+Hitherto the tone in which Sir Horace had spoken, the alternate flush
+and pallor on his face, and the shiver that occasionally passed over his
+frame, had shown him to be fearfully excited; but as Edward became
+agitated, all these signs of emotion passed away, and with wonderful
+calmness taking the paper in his hand, he commenced reading that part of
+it which explained its purpose. This was to secure the descent of the
+baronetcy of Maitland and the property attached to it in the male line.
+Having made Edward Maitland comprehend this purpose, Sir Horace drew
+towards him a genealogical table of their family, and showed him that he
+was himself the only living descendant in a direct line through an
+unbroken succession of males from the period at which this entail was
+made.
+
+"And now, Edward," he said in conclusion, "I am prepared to give up
+every thing to you. That you have so long been defrauded of your rights
+has been through ignorance on my part, and equal ignorance, I am
+convinced, on the part of my uncle. You know he paid little attention to
+business, leaving it wholly to his agents. I have often heard him
+express a wish to examine the papers in the old _escritoire_ in which I
+found this deed, saying that they had been sent home by old Harris when
+he gave up his business to his nephew--the old man writing to my uncle,
+that as they consisted of leases that had fallen in, or of antiquated
+deeds, they were no longer of any value except as family records. It was
+a just Providence that led me to that _escritoire_, to search for the
+missing title-deeds of the farm I was about to sell."
+
+Edward Maitland had sunk into his chair from sheer inability to stand,
+and for several minutes after his cousin had ceased speaking, he still
+sat, with his elbows resting on the table before him, and his face
+buried in his clasped hands. At length looking up, he said, "Horace, let
+us burn this paper and forget it."
+
+"Forget! that is impossible, Edward."
+
+"Why?--why not live as we have done? You speak of defrauding me, but
+what have I wanted that you had? Has not your purse been as my own? Your
+home--has it not been mine? It shall be so still. We shall share the
+fortune, and as to the title, you will wear it more gracefully than I."
+
+"Dear Edward! Such proof of your generous affection ought to console me
+for all changes, and it shall. I will confess to you that I have
+suffered, but it is past. My people----" his voice faltered, his chest
+heaved, and turning away he walked more than once across the room before
+he resumed--"they are mine no longer--but you will be kind to them,
+Edward, I know."
+
+"Horace, you will drive me mad!" cried Edward Maitland. "Promise, I
+conjure you, promise me to say nothing more of this."
+
+He threw himself as he spoke into his cousin's arms with an agitation
+which Horace vainly sought to soothe, until he promised "to _speak_" no
+further on this subject at present to any one. Satisfied with this
+promise, and exhausted by the emotions of the last hour, Edward soon
+retired to his own room. It was long before he slept, and had he not
+been in a distant part of the house, he would have heard the hurried
+steps with which, for many an hour after he was left alone, Sir Horace
+Maitland continued to pace the floor of the dimly lighted library. The
+clock was on the stroke of three when he seated himself and began the
+following letter:
+
+
+DEAR EDWARD:--I must go, and at once. I cannot without the loss of
+self-respect continue to play the master here another day, neither can I
+live as a dependent within these walls--no, not for an hour. Do not
+attempt to follow me, for I will not see you. I will write to you as
+soon as I arrive at my point of destination--I know not yet where that
+will be. Feel no anxiety about me. I shall take with me a thousand
+pounds, and will leave an order for Decker to receive from you and hold
+subject to my draft whatever sum may accrue from the sale, at a fair
+valuation, of Sir Thomas Maitland's personal property, which he had an
+undoubted right to will as he pleased, the amount of the mesne rents
+expended by me during the last three years having been deducted
+therefrom. Do not attempt to force favors upon me, Edward--I cannot bear
+them now. Such attempts would only compel me to cut myself loose from
+you and your affection--the one blessing that earth still holds for me.
+
+My trunks have been packed two days, for my first resolve was to go
+from this place and from England. I shall take the chariot in which you
+came down and fresh horses, but I will send them back to you from
+London.
+
+God bless you, Edward. I dare not speak of my feelings to you now, lest
+I should lose the strength and self-command I need so much. God bless
+you.
+
+H. D. MAITLAND.
+
+
+Stealthily did Sir Horace move through the wide halls and ascend the
+lofty stairs of this home of his life, feeling at every step the rushing
+tide of memory conflicting with the sad thought that he was treading
+them for the last time. Having reached his sleeping apartments, he rang
+a bell which he knew would summon his own man. Rapidly as the man moved,
+the time seemed long to him ere the summons was obeyed, and he had given
+the necessary orders to have the carriage prepared and the trunks
+brought down as soon as possible, "and as quietly," he added, "as he did
+not wish to disturb Mr. Edward, who had retired to bed late."
+
+"Will you not take breakfast, sir, before you set out?" asked the man.
+
+"No, John. Let the carriage follow me. I shall walk on. Be quick, and
+make no noise."
+
+A faint streak of light was just beginning to appear in the east, when
+the heretofore master of that lordly mansion went out into a world which
+held for him no other home. ACCIDENT, as short-sighted mortals name
+events controlled by no human will, decided whither he should direct his
+course from London. He had called at his lawyer's--the already mentioned
+"nephew of old Harris"--determined to communicate his discovery to him,
+perhaps with some faint hope of learning that the entail had been in
+some way set aside, before Sir Thomas had ventured to make his sister's
+son his heir. Mr. Decker was not in his rooms, and sitting down to wait
+for him he took up mechanically the morning paper that lay on his table.
+The first thing on which his eye rested was the advertisement of a steam
+packet about to sail from Liverpool for America.
+
+"America; the very place for me. I shall meet no acquaintances there,"
+was the thought which flashed through his mind. Another glance at the
+paper of the day and hour of the packet's sailing, an examination of his
+watch, an impatient look from the window up and down the street, and
+again he mused, "I have not a moment to spare, and if I wait for Decker
+I may be kept for hours, and so lose the packet; and why should I wait?
+Have I not seen the deed? This indecision is folly."
+
+The result of these reflections was a note rapidly written to Mr.
+Decker, stating his discovery of the deed of entail, his consequent
+surrender of all claim to the property to Edward Maitland, and his
+determination to quit England immediately. All arrangements respecting
+the settlement of his claims on the estate, and the claims of the
+present proprietor upon him, he left to Sir Edward and Mr. Decker,
+empowering the latter to receive and retain for his use and subject to
+his order, whatever, on such a settlement, should appertain to him.
+
+This note was left on Mr. Decker's table, and in one hour after leaving
+his office Horace Maitland was advancing to Liverpool with the rapidity
+of steam. The packet waited but the arrival of the train in which he was
+a passenger, to leave the shores of England. With what bitterness he
+watched those receding shores, while memory wrote upon his bare and
+bleeding heart the record of joys identified with them, and fading like
+them for ever from his life, let each imagine for himself, for to such
+emotions no language can do justice.
+
+A voyage across the Atlantic is now too common an event to stay, even
+for a moment, the pen of a narrator. From Boston, Horace--no longer Sir
+Horace--wrote to his cousin as follows--
+
+
+DEAR EDWARD--Here I am among the republicans, with whom I may flatter
+myself I have lost nothing by sinking Sir Horace Maitland into plain Mr.
+Danforth. Such is now my address, assumed not from fear that in this
+distant quarter of the world I shall meet any to whom the name of
+Maitland is familiar but because much of which I do not desire to be
+reminded is associated with that came. I said to you when leaving my
+home, dear Edward, "Do not fear for me." I can now repeat this with
+better reason. The first stunning shock of the change to which I was so
+suddenly subjected has been borne. My past life already seems to me as a
+dream from which I have been rudely but effectually awakened. I am now
+first to begin life in reality.
+
+The accident which determined me to seek these shores was a happy one. I
+cannot well dream here where all around me is active, vigorous life. We
+are accustomed in England to think of the American shores as the Ultima
+Thule in a western direction, but when we reach these shores we find
+that the movement is still west. The daily papers are filled with
+accounts of persons migrating west, and thither am I going. "The world
+is all before me where to choose" the theatre of my new life--my life of
+work---and I would have it far from the blue sea, out of hearing of the
+murmur of the waves that lave my island home. I will go where the wide
+prairies sweep away on every side of the horizon--where every link with
+other lands will be severed, and America below and Heaven above
+constitute my universe. "You will find no society at the West," has been
+said to me. This is another attraction to that region. I would work out
+my destiny in solitude. I desire to travel without company, and have
+made my arrangements accordingly. I have purchased three substantial
+horses for a little more than one hundred pounds, and have engaged a
+shrewd, active lad as groom, valet, and he seems to think, companion,
+at about two pounds per month. A very light carriage, sometimes driven
+by my servant and sometimes by myself, will transport the moderate
+wardrobe which I shall deem it necessary to take with me to the
+outermost verge of civilization and good roads, where leaving carriage
+and wardrobe, or at least all of the latter which may not be borne by a
+led-horse, I shall penetrate still further into the old forests of this
+New World. I long to be alone with "Nature's full, free
+heart"--perchance, there, my own may beat as of yore.
+
+Farewell, dear Edward. You may hear of me next among the Sacs and
+Foxes;--at present address H. Danforth, care of G---- & D----,
+Merchants, ---- ---- street, Boston.
+
+Yours ever, H. DANFORTH.
+
+
+A new external life had indeed opened upon this child of luxury and
+conventional refinement. He whose movements had been chronicled as
+matter of interest to the public, for whose presence the "world" had
+postponed its fêtes, might now travel hundreds of miles without
+observation or inquiry. He upon whose steps had waited a crowd of
+obsequious attendants, now found himself with one follower, whose tone
+of independence hardly permitted him to call him servant. In cities,
+where he would still have been surrounded by those conventional
+distinctions of which he had himself been deprived, the sense of a great
+loss would have been ever present with him, and the contrast with the
+past would have made the fairest present to which he could now attain,
+desolate. But there could be no comparison, and therefore no painful
+contrast, between the wild life of the prairies and the
+ultra-civilization of English aristocratic society. In the excitement
+and adventure of the one, he hoped to forget the other. He sought to
+forget--not to be resigned, to acquiesce. His inner life was unchanged.
+He had been a dreamer--a pleasure-seeker--and a dreamer and
+pleasure-seeker he continued, though the dreams and the pleasures must
+be wrought from new materials. To sketch the progress of such a
+character through the shifting scenes of his new existence--to observe
+him in his association with the strong, daring, acute, but uncultivated
+denizens of our frontier States--to stand with sympathizing heart beside
+him as he first entered upon those unpeopled solitudes in whose silence
+God speaks to the soul, is not permitted us at present. This may be the
+work of another day; but now we must pass at once with him from Boston
+to a scene within the confines of Iowa. His carriage had been left
+behind, and for two days he had been riding over a rolling country,
+whose grassy knolls, dotted here and there with clumps of trees, brought
+occasionally to his mind the park scenery of his own land. Early in this
+day he had passed a farm with a comfortable house and substantial
+out-buildings, but no dwelling of man had since presented itself to him,
+though the sun was now low in the western sky. Under ordinary
+circumstances this would have been of little consequence, for he had
+already spent more than one night in the open air without discomfort;
+but his attendant had heard a distant muttering of thunder, and John
+Stacy was not the lad to encounter without murmuring a night of storm
+unsheltered. John's anxiety made him keen-sighted, and he was the first
+to perceive and announce the approach of a rider. We use the neutral
+term _rider_ not without consideration, for he was one in whom a certain
+ease of manner, and even an air of command, contradicted the testimony
+of habiliments made and worn after a fashion recognized nowhere as
+characteristic of the _genus_ gentleman. A courteous inquiry from Horace
+Danforth respecting the nearest place at which a night's shelter might
+be obtained, led to a cordial invitation to him to return with him to
+his own house. It was an invitation not to be disregarded under existing
+circumstances, and it was accepted with evident pleasure both by master
+and man.
+
+Mr. Grahame, for so the new-comer had announced himself, led the way
+back for a short distance over the route just pursued by our travellers,
+and then striking off to the left, rode briskly forward for several
+miles. The light gray clouds which had long been gathering in the
+western sky had deepened into blackness as they proceeded, and flashes
+of lightning were darting across their path, and large drops of rain
+were falling upon them when they neared a house constructed of logs, yet
+bearing some evidence of taste in the grounds around it, as well as in
+its position, which was on the side of a gently sloping hill, looking
+out upon a landscape through which wound a clear and rapid, though
+narrow stream.
+
+"Like good cavaliers, we will see our horses housed first," said Mr.
+Grahame, riding past the main building to one of the out-houses, built
+also of logs, which served as a stable. Here Horace Danforth
+relinquished his tired steed to the care of John Stacy, and Mr. Grahame
+having himself rubbed down his own beautiful animal, and thrown a bundle
+of hay before him, with a slight apology to his visitor for the
+detention, led the way into the house. As they entered the vacant parlor
+a shade of something like dissatisfaction passed over the master's
+countenance, and having seen his guest seated by a huge fireplace, whose
+cheerful blaze of wood a chilly evening made by no means unwelcome, he
+left him alone. He soon returned, however, with a brighter expression,
+which was explained by his saying, "I feared, on finding this room
+empty, that my daughter had been sent for to a sick woman with whom she
+has lately spent several days and nights, and that I could offer you
+only the discomforts of a bachelor's establishment; but I find she is at
+home, and will soon give us supper."
+
+During the absence of his host, our Englishman had looked around with
+increasing surprise at the contents of the parlor. The furniture was of
+the most simple description, yet marked by a certain neatness and
+gracefulness of arrangement, indicative, as he could not but think, of a
+cultivated taste. The same mingling of even rude simplicity of material
+and tasteful arrangement prevailed in the chamber to which his host now
+conducted him, and where the luxury, for such he had learned to regard
+it, of abundance of clear water and clean napkins awaited him. In a few
+minutes after his return to the parlor a door was opened, through which
+he obtained a view of an inner apartment, well lighted, and containing a
+table so spread as to present no slight temptation to a traveller who
+had not broken his fast since the morning meal. At the head of this
+table stood a young woman of graceful form, whom his host introduced to
+him as his daughter, Miss Grahame.
+
+Mary Grahame's clear complexion, glowing with the hue of health, her
+large and soft and dark gray eyes, her abundant glossy black hair, might
+have won from the most fastidious some of that admiration given to
+personal beauty; but in truth Horace Danforth had grown indifferent as
+well as fastidious, and it was not until in after days he had seen the
+complexion glow and the dark eyes kindle with feeling, that he said to
+himself, "She is beautiful!" To the fascination of a peculiarly
+graceful, gentle, yet earnest manner, he was, however, more quickly
+susceptible. During this first evening, the chief emotion excited in his
+mind was surprise at the style of conversation and manner, the
+acquaintance with books and with _les bien-séances_ which marked these
+inhabitants of a log cabin in the western wilds--these denizens of a
+half-savage life.
+
+A day of hard riding had induced such fatigue, that even the rare and
+unexpected pleasure of communication with refined and cultivated minds,
+could not keep Horace Danforth long from his pillow. As he expected to
+set out in the morning very early, he would have made his adieus in
+parting for the night, mingling with them courteous expressions of the
+enjoyment which such society had afforded him after his long abstinence
+from all intellectual converse.
+
+"Believe me," said Mr. Graham, and the sentiment was corroborated by his
+daughter's eyes, "the pleasure has been mutual. Society is the great
+want of our western life. I have been wishing to ask whether your
+business were too urgent to permit you to afford us more of this coveted
+good?"
+
+"I am ashamed to confess," said Horace Danforth, with some
+embarrassment, "that I have no business at present--that I am an
+idler--I verily believe the only one in your country."
+
+"Then will you not give us the pleasure of your company for a longer
+time? A little rest will be no disadvantage either to your horses or
+yourself, and on us you will be conferring a favor which you cannot
+appreciate till you have lived five hundred miles away from
+civilization."
+
+The invitation was accepted as cordially as it was given, to the great
+satisfaction of John Stacy, who had been much pleased with the
+appearance of land in this neighborhood, and wanted time to look about
+him preparatory to purchasing.
+
+Horace Danforth awoke early next morning, and throwing open the shutters
+of the only window in his room, found that a stormy night had been
+succeeded by an unusually brilliant morning. "To brush the dews from off
+the upland lawn" had not been a habit of his past life; but the cool
+fresh air, the spicy perfumes which it wafted to him, and the brightness
+and verdure of the whole landscape, proved now more inviting than his
+pillow; and dressing himself hastily, he descended the clean but rude
+and uncarpeted stairs as gently as possible, lest he should arouse Miss
+Grahame from her slumbers. He found the front door open, showing that he
+was not the first of the household to go abroad that day. As he stepped
+out upon the lawn, he discovered that the parlor windows were also
+open, and a familiar air, hummed in low, suppressed tones, caused him
+to look through them as he passed. Could he believe his eyes? Was that
+neatest and prettiest of all housemaids, who, moving with light and even
+graceful steps, was yet busied in the very homely task of dusting and
+arranging the furniture in the parlor--was she indeed the same Miss
+Grahame who had last evening charmed him by her lady-like deportment and
+intelligent conversation? Yes, the very same; for though the glossy
+black braids were covered by a gay colored handkerchief wound around her
+head _à la Turque_, there was the same wide forehead and well-defined
+brows; the same soft dark gray eyes; the same slightly aquiline nose and
+smiling mouth. Nor was the conversation of last evening more opposed, in
+his imagination, to her present employment, than the evident taste and
+feeling with which she was now singing that most beautiful hymn of the
+Irish poet:--
+
+    "O God! Thou art the life and light
+    Of all this wondrous world I see."
+
+Listening and gazing, wondering and comparing, he had well nigh
+forgotten himself, when the lady of the mansion turning suddenly to the
+window, raised her head. Their eyes met! The color which rushed quickly
+to her very temples, recalled him to himself, and bowing with certainly
+not less embarrassment than she evinced, he walked rapidly on. He had
+not proceeded far, however, when he saw his host approaching from an
+opposite direction. As Mr. Grahame had already spent more than an hour
+in his fields, sharing as well as directing the labors of his men, he
+expressed no surprise at meeting his guest abroad. After a cordial
+greeting, and a few general observations on the weather and scenery had
+been exchanged, Mr. Grahame, glancing up at the sun, which had now risen
+considerably above a distant wood, said, "I am sorry to interrupt your
+walk, but my morning's work has made me by no means indifferent to my
+breakfast, and I think that Mary's coffee and biscuits are about this
+time done to a turn."
+
+A few minutes brought them back to the house, and into the parlor from
+which Mary Grahame had disappeared, leaving behind her, in its neat and
+tasteful arrangement, and in the fresh flowers that adorned the table
+and mantelpiece, evidence of her early presence. The gentlemen were soon
+summoned to breakfast.
+
+It may have been that his early rising had given to Horace Danforth an
+unusual appetite; but certain it is that no breakfast of which he had
+ever partaken seemed to him half so inviting as this. And yet, in truth,
+it was simple enough; toast, crisp and brown, warm, light biscuits,
+fresh eggs, good butter, excellent coffee, and rich cream were all it
+offered. Mary Grahame presided, and speaking little herself, listened to
+her father and Horace, while they discussed the different
+characteristics of English or European and American society, with a
+pleased and intelligent countenance. Some observations from him drew
+from Mr. Grahame the following reply:--
+
+"There is one feature of American society upon which I think no
+foreigner has remarked, or if he have, it has been so cursorily as
+plainly to show that he was far from appreciating its importance: I mean
+the fact that here the thinker is also the worker. In England and the
+European States, the working class is distinct from the consumers, and
+there must be almost as great a contrast in the intellectual as in the
+physical condition of the two. All the refinement, the cultivation, must
+remain with those who have leisure and fortune--as a class, I mean, for
+individuals will of course be found, who, in spite of all disadvantages,
+will rise to the highest position. But here, in America, there are no
+idlers. Here, with few if any exceptions, all must be, in some way,
+workers, and all may be thinkers. We attain thus to a republic of
+mind."
+
+"Do you not fear that the result of this will be to check the
+development of individual greatness; that as you have no king in the
+State, so you will have no king in literature?"
+
+"Even were this so, it would remain a question whether the great
+increase of general intelligence would not more than compensate the
+evil."
+
+"Can many Polloks repay us for one Milton--many Drydens for one
+Shakspeare?"
+
+"You take extreme cases; besides, I only admitted your supposition to
+show that I could produce a set-off to the disadvantage. I do not
+believe that the necessity for labor of some sort will prevent a truly
+great mind from achieving for itself the highest distinction. I think
+the history of such minds proves that it will rather serve as a stimulus
+to their powers."
+
+Horace Danforth was silent, and after a moment's pause, Mr. Grahame
+resumed.
+
+"In this union of the working and the thinking classes, the refinements
+of life, those things which adorn, and beautify it, take their true
+place as consolers and soothers of the care-worn and toil-wearied mind.
+No Italian opera can give such delight to the sated man of pleasure as
+the tired laborer feels in listening to the evening song with which some
+loved one, in his home, sings him to repose.
+
+"You speak _con amore_" said Horace Danforth, smiling at his host's
+fervor.
+
+"I do. Had I been excluded from the refinements of social life, I should
+long since have fainted and grown weary of my toil here. I felt this
+when compelled to relinquish my daughter's society for two years, that
+she might have the advantage of instruction in those branches of a
+womanly education in which I could give her no aid."
+
+"And having spent two years in the more cultivated East, did Miss
+Grahame return willingly to her home in the wilderness?"
+
+This question was addressed to Mary Grahame herself, and she answered
+simply, "My father was here."
+
+"You acknowledge, then, that could your father have been with you, you
+would have preferred remaining at the East?"
+
+"Oh no! I was fifteen when my father sent me from home, and they who
+have enjoyed the free life of the prairies so long, seldom love
+cities."
+
+"But the ease, the freedom from labor, which is enjoyed in a more
+advanced stage of society, the power to devote yourself to pursuits
+agreeable to your taste--did you not regret these?"
+
+"Permit me to put your question into plainer language," interposed Mr.
+Grahame. "Mr. Danforth would ask, Mary, whether you would not prefer to
+live where you would not be compelled to degrade your mind----"
+
+"No, no, I protest against the degradation," exclaimed Mr. Danforth.
+
+"To degrade your mind," pursued Mr. Grahame, answering the interruption
+only by a smile, "by exercising it on such homely things as brewing
+coffee and baking cakes, or to soil your fair hands with brooms and
+dusters."
+
+"For the soil of the hands we have sparkling rills, and for the
+degradation of the mind, I, like Mr. Danforth, protest against it."
+
+"But how can you make your protest good?"
+
+"You have taught me that there is no degradation in labor, pursued for
+fair and right ends, and that where the end is noble, the labor becomes
+ennobling."
+
+"But what noble ends can be alleged for the drudgery of domestic life? I
+am translating your looks into language," said Mr. Grahame, turning
+playfully to his guest; "correct me if I do not read them rightly."
+
+"If I say you do, I fear Miss Grahame will think them very impertinent
+looks."
+
+"I shall not complain of them while I can reply to them so easily," said
+Mary gayly. "He who knows how much a well-ordered household contributes
+to the cultivation of domestic virtues and family affections, will not
+think a woman degraded who sacrifices somewhat of her tastes and
+pleasures to the deeper happiness of procuring such advantages for those
+she loves."
+
+"But is not that state of society preferable, in which, without her
+personal interference, by the employment of those who have no higher
+tastes, she may accomplish the same object?"
+
+"That question proves that you do not, like my father, desire to see the
+working and the thinking classes united. You seem to propose that the
+first shall ever remain our hewers of wood and drawers of water."
+
+"Is it not a fact that there have been, are, and always will be those in
+the world who are fitted for no other position?"
+
+"That there are and always have been such persons, I acknowledge; but
+when labor ceases to be degrading, because it is partaken by all, may we
+not hope that new aspirations will be awakened in the laborer--that he
+will elevate himself in the scale of being when he feels elevation
+possible?"
+
+Mary Grahame spoke with generous enthusiasm, yet with a modest
+gentleness which made Horace Danforth desire to continue the argument.
+
+"Admitting all this," he said, "it does not answer my question, which
+was, whether you did not prefer that state of society in which you were
+able to avail yourself of the services of such a class?"
+
+"There are moments, doubtless, when indolence would plead for such
+self-indulgence; but I should be mortified, indeed, where this the
+prevailing temper of my mind."
+
+"Pardon me if I say that I do not see how it can be otherwise--how a
+lady of Miss Grahame's refinement and taste can be pleased with the
+employments, for instance, to which Mr. Grahame just now referred."
+
+"Not pleased with them in themselves, but she may accept them, may she
+not, as a necessary part of a great object to which she has devoted
+herself?"
+
+"And this object?--but, forgive me. The interest you have awakened in
+the subject, and your kindness in answering my questions, make me an
+encroacher, I fear," he added, as he marked the heightened color with
+which Mary glanced at her father as he paused for her answer.
+
+"Not at all; but I speak in presence of my master, and will refer you to
+him," she replied, with another smiling glance at her father.
+
+"You see," said Mr. Grahame, "that even in these wilds, 'the world's
+dread laugh' retains its power. Mary, I see, is afraid of being called a
+female Quixote, and even I find myself disposed to win you to some
+interest in my object, before I avow it. This I think I can best do by a
+sketch of the circumstances which led to its adoption. I will give you
+such a sketch, therefore, if you will promise to acquit me of egotism in
+doing so."
+
+"That I will readily do. I shall be delighted to hear it."
+
+"You shall have it, but not now; for I see, by certain cabalistic signs,
+known only to the initiated, that Mary is about to leave us for some of
+those same degrading employments, and if you will take a ride with me, I
+will relieve you from all danger of contact with them, and will, at the
+same time, show you something of our neighborhood."
+
+The proposal was of course accepted. The ride embraced a circuit of ten
+miles, in which they passed only two houses. The first of these was
+built with an apparent regard to convenience and comfort, and even some
+effort at adornment, as manifested in the climbing plants with which the
+windows were draperied, and the flowers which adorned the little court
+in front. Mr. Grahame stopped before the gateway of this court, and a
+woman of coarse, rough exterior, though scrupulously clean, came out to
+speak to him, and to urge his alighting and entering the house with his
+friend. This Mr. Grahame declined; he had stopped only to inquire after
+a sick child, and to express a hope that her husband's hay had turned
+out well.
+
+"Dreadful fine," was her reply to the last. "I'm sure we be much
+obleeged to you for the seed, and for tellin' Jim how to plant it He
+never had sich hay before."
+
+"I'm glad to hear it. Where is Lucy?"
+
+"Oh, she's off to school. Tell Miss Mary she's gittin' to be 'most as
+grand a reader as she be. And yet the child's willin' enough to work,
+for all."
+
+As the gentlemen rode on, after this interview, Mr. Grahame said, "That
+last speech expressed one of the greatest difficulties against which we
+had to contend in our efforts to induce our neighbors to give to their
+children some of the advantages of education. They were afraid 'larnin'
+would make them lazy.' They were of your opinion, that the thinker and
+the worker must remain of different classes."
+
+"I was much surprised to hear that woman speak of a school. I should not
+think the teacher could find his situation very profitable."
+
+"He is one who has regard to a higher reward than any earthly one. He is
+a self-denying Christian missionary, whom I induced to settle in our
+neighborhood. He preaches on the Sabbath, in a little church about two
+miles from my house, to a congregation of about twenty adults, and twice
+that number of children; and during the week, he keeps a school which is
+well attended in the summer. Some of his earlier pupils are already
+showing, by their more useful and more happy lives, the importance of
+the schoolmaster's work in the elevation of a people."
+
+The next dwelling they approached was very small and mean-looking. It
+seemed to Horace Danforth to contain only one apartment, warmed by an
+ill-constructed clay chimney, and lighted by one small, square window.
+That window, however, was not only sashed and glazed, but shaded by a
+plain muslin curtain.
+
+"Here," said Mr. Grahame, "lives one of those pupils of whom I spoke
+just now. He has commenced life with nothing but the plot of ground you
+see, and having a wife to support, he must work hard, yet already he is
+aiming at something more than the supply of merely physical wants; and I
+doubt not he will, should he live long enough, become the intelligent
+and wealthy father of a well-educated family."
+
+They were approaching the house as Mr. Grahame spoke. Near it was a
+small field, in which a man was hoeing.
+
+"How is your wife, Martin?" asked Mr. Grahame.
+
+"Oh, thank you, sir, she is quite smart. She's been getting better ever
+since the night Miss Mary sat up with her last. We say she always brings
+good luck."
+
+"And how are your potatoes?"
+
+"How could they help but be good, sir, with such grand seed as you gave
+me? Tell Miss Mary, if you please, sir, that the rose-tree is growing
+finely, and that as soon as I can get time to put up the fence, Sally is
+to have the flower-garden she talked about."
+
+"I am glad to hear it, Martin; if you are brisk you may have some
+flowers yet before frost. I will bring you some seeds the next time I
+come."
+
+"Do you procure your seeds from the East, or is it the result of your
+superior cultivation, that you are able thus to supply your neighbors?"
+asked Horace Danforth of Mr. Grahame, as they rode on.
+
+"The potatoes were from my own field, raised from the seed two years
+ago. The grass and flower seeds were from my agent at the East. These
+little favors win for my daughter and myself considerable influence over
+our neighbors, and thus facilitate our attainment of the object for
+which we have pitched our tent in the wilderness, and accepted those
+labors which you justly regard as distasteful in themselves."
+
+The return home of Mr. Grahame and his visitor, their dinner and
+afternoon engagements, offer nothing worthy of our notice. It was not
+till the labors of the day had been concluded, and the little party were
+gathered again before a cheerful fire in the parlor, that the subject of
+the morning's conversation was resumed. As Mary entered from the
+supper-room, bringing with her a little basket of needle-work, Horace
+Danforth asked if he might not now hope to receive the promised sketch.
+
+"I will give it you with pleasure when I have had my evening song from
+Mary," said Mr. Grahame.
+
+Opening the piano for his young hostess, Horace Danforth stood beside
+her as she sang, but he forgot to turn the leaves of the music before
+her as he listened once again to a rich and cultivated voice,
+accompanied by a fine instrument, touched by a skilful hand. As the
+sweet and well-remembered strains fell on his ear, he closed his eyes
+and gave the reins to fancy. The loved and lost gathered around him, and
+it was with a strange, dream-like feeling that, as the sweet sound
+ceased, and Mary arose from the piano, he opened his eyes and looked
+upon the rough walls and simple furniture of his present abode.
+
+"It is now nearly nineteen years," began Mr. Grahame, when his daughter
+and guest had resumed their seats near him, "since, crushed in spirit, I
+turned from the grave in which I had laid my chief earthly blessing, to
+wander 'any where, any where out of that world' which had a few weeks
+before been bright and joyous to me, but which I was now ready to
+pronounce a desolate waste. The desire to avoid society made me turn
+westward, and nearly one hundred miles east of our present residence I
+found myself in the midst of a people without churches, without schools,
+rude in appearance and in manners. Absorbed in the destruction of my own
+selfish happiness, I might have passed from among them without knowing
+that disease was adding its pangs to those inflicted by want, ignorance,
+and superstition, had not a mother in the agony of parting from her
+first-born, looking hither and thither for help, turned her eyes
+entreatingly upon the stranger. I had once studied medicine, though
+regarding the profession, as our young men too often do, merely as a
+means of personal aggrandizement, and having received just at the
+completion of my studies an accession of fortune, which removed all
+pecuniary necessity to exertion on my part, I had never practised it,
+nor indeed obtained the diploma necessary to its practice. Now, however,
+I endeavored to make myself master of the peculiar features of the
+epidemic under which the child was suffering, and with the aid of a
+small store of medicines which my good sister had insisted on my taking
+with me, and a rigid enforcement of some of the simplest rules of diet
+and regimen, I had the happiness of seeing the child in a few days out
+of danger, and of receiving the mother's rapturous thanks. That moment,
+gave me the first gleam of happiness I had known for months, and
+disposed me to listen to the entreaties of the poor creatures who came
+from far and near to entreat the aid of the Doctor, as they persisted in
+calling me, notwithstanding my repeated assurances that I had no right
+to the title. I spent weeks in that neighborhood, and there I was born
+to a new life. Till that time I had lived to myself, and when that in
+which I had centered my earthly joy was snatched from me by death, I had
+felt that life had nothing left for me; but now I saw that while there
+were sentient beings in the universe to serve, and a glorious and ever
+blessed Father presiding over that universe and smiling on such service,
+life could not be divested of joy. Under the influence of such views my
+plans for the future were formed, nor have I ever seen reason to change
+or to regret them. Every where the Christian religion teaches the same
+precepts, but not every where is it equally easy to see the way in which
+those precepts may be obeyed; every where it is true, as a distinguished
+writer of your own land has said, 'Blessed is the man who has found his
+work--let him seek no other blessedness;' but not every where is it
+equally easy to see where our work lies. Here, in America, the
+partition-walls which stand elsewhere as a remnant of the old feudalism,
+have been broken down; every man is irresistibly pressed into contact
+with his neighbors--he cannot shut his eyes to their wants--he cannot
+stop his ears against their cries. In America, too, every man, as I have
+already said, must be a worker--or, if he live an idler, it must be on
+that which his father gained by the sweat of his brow, and he leaves his
+children to enslaving toil, or more enslaving dependence. Here the man
+of pleasure, the idler of either sex, is a foreign exotic which finds no
+nourishment in our soil, no shelter from our institutions--which is out
+of harmony with our social life, and must ever be marked by the innate
+vulgarity of unsustained pretension. Therefore it is comparatively easy
+for us to hold out the hand of love to our brethren, sinking and
+suffering at our very side, and to teach them that there is no natural
+inalienable connection between labor and coarseness, ignorance and
+servility; that man, though compelled to win his bread by the sweat of
+his brow, may still enjoy all those graceful amenities of which woman
+was the type in Paradise and is the promoter here; that the light of
+knowledge and the divine light of faith may still cheer him in his
+pursuits and guide him to his rest. It seems to me that to bring out
+these principles fairly to the world's perception, is the mission to
+which America has been especially appointed--is that for which Americans
+should live; and to this I have accordingly devoted myself. For this I
+purchased my present property--for this I determined, while allowing
+myself and my daughter all the comforts of life, to dispense with many
+of those luxuries to which my fortune might have seemed to entitle us,
+lest I should separate myself too far from those I would aid. Here I
+have spent seventeen years of life, happy in my work, and happier in the
+conviction that it has not been in vain."
+
+As Mr. Grahame paused, Horace Danforth turned to Mary Grahame. Her eyes
+were fixed upon him. They seemed to challenge his admiration for her
+father, in whose hand her own was clasped, as though she would thus
+intimate the perfect accordance of her feelings with his.
+
+"And this, then," he said to her, "is your object?"
+
+"It is."
+
+"An object to which you were devoted by your father in your infancy?"
+
+"And which I have since adopted on my own intelligent conviction," said
+Mary, earnestly, losing all timidity in a glow of that generous
+enthusiasm which sits so gracefully on a gentle woman.
+
+There was silence in the little circle--silence with all; with one,
+thought was rapidly passing down the long vista of the past, and
+pointing the awakened mind to the fact that elsewhere than in America
+was there ignorance to be enlightened and want to be relieved--that not
+here only did Christianity teach that man should live not unto himself
+alone, and that he should love his neighbor as himself.
+
+The thoughts and feelings aroused on that evening colored the whole
+future destiny of Horace Danforth. Ere another day had passed, he had
+confided to his host so much of his history as proved him to be an
+aimless and almost unconnected wanderer on the earth, with a prospect
+of a fortune which, unequal to the demands of a man of fashion in
+England, would give to a _worker_ in America great influence for good or
+for evil--as the personal property of Sir Thomas Maitland could not, as
+Horace Danforth was well aware, be valued at less than 50,000 dollars.
+With that rapid decision which had ever marked his movements, the young
+Englishman determined to purchase land in the neighborhood of Mr.
+Grahame, there to rear his future hope, and to devote his life to the
+like noble purposes. The land was purchased, the site for the house was
+selected and marked out--but the house was never built--for ere that had
+been accomplished Horace Danforth discovered that the companionship of a
+cultivated woman was essential to his views of "Life in America," and
+that Mary Grahame was exactly the embodiment of that youthful vision
+which he had sought in vain elsewhere; for she united the delicacy and
+refined grace, with the intelligent mind, the active affections and
+energetic will, which were necessary at once to please his fancy and
+satisfy his heart Mary Grahame could not consent to leave her father to
+a lonely home, but yet she could not deny that it would be a sad home to
+her if deprived of the society of him whose intelligent and varied
+converse and manly tenderness had lately formed the chief charm of her
+existence. There was only one way of reconciling these conflicting
+claims. Horace Danforth must live with Mr. Grahame; and so he did,
+having first obtained that gentleman's permission to enlarge his house,
+and to furnish it with some of those inventions by which art has so
+greatly lightened domestic occupation, and which had been made familiar
+to him by his life abroad.
+
+Six months had been spent in this abode--six months of an existence of
+joy and love, untroubled as it could be to those who were yet dwellers
+upon earth--six months in which the fastidious and world-wearied man
+learned the secret of true peace in a life devoted to useful and
+benevolent objects--when a most unexpected visitor arrived in the person
+of Sir Edward Maitland--no, not Sir Edward. He came to announce that to
+this title he had no right. That he had remained himself, and suffered
+his cousin to remain so long in ignorance on this point, had been the
+result of no want of effort to arrive at the truth, still less of any
+lingering love of the honors forced upon him. He had never assumed the
+title, nor suffered the secret of his supposed change of circumstances
+to be known beyond himself and the lawyer to whom his cousin Horace had
+revealed it. This lawyer, it may be remembered, had lately succeeded in
+the care of the Maitland estate to an uncle, who had been compelled by
+the infirmities of advancing age to retire from business. The old man
+was absent from England when Horace Danforth left it, and it was not
+till his return that full satisfaction on the subject had been obtained,
+as it was judged unwise by Mr. Decker to awaken public attention by
+investigations which his uncle's return would probably render
+unnecessary. When he did return, and the subject was cautiously unfolded
+to him, he spent many minutes in _pishing_ and _pshawing_ at the folly
+and impetuosity of young Baronets, who, knowing nothing of the tenure on
+which they hold their estates, cannot at least wait till they consult
+wiser people before they throw them away. The entail of nearly two
+centuries ago had, it seems, been set aside in little more than one, by
+an improvident father and son, who had in fact greatly diminished the
+very fine property so entailed, though most of it had been since
+recovered by the care of their successors. The intelligence thus
+conveyed to him who was now once more Sir Horace Danforth Maitland, was
+of mingled sweet and bitter. He could not be insensible to the joy of
+returning to the home of his childhood and the people among whom he had
+grown to manhood, yet neither could he leave, without tender regrets,
+that in which he had first learned to love, and to live a true, a
+noble, and a happy life.
+
+When Mary was first saluted as Lady Maitland by Edward, she turned a
+glance of inquiry upon her husband, and then upon her father, for both
+were present by previous arrangement; and as she read a confirmation of
+the fact in their smiling faces, the color faded from hers, and after a
+moment's vain effort to contend against her painful emotion, she burst
+into tears.
+
+"Your father has promised to spend his life with us, dearest," said Sir
+Horace Maitland, as he threw his arm around her and drew her to his
+side.
+
+"But this dear home," sobbed Mary; "this people, for whom and with whom
+we have lived so happily."
+
+"All that made this home dear, my daughter, you will take with you to
+another home."
+
+"And there, too," interposed Sir Horace, "my Mary will find a people to
+enlighten and to bless, over whom her influence will be unbounded, and
+to whom she will prove an angel of consolation."
+
+"And can you carry your American life to your English home?" she asked
+of her husband, smiling through her tears.
+
+"As much of it as is independent of outward circumstances, Mary--its
+spirit, its aims; for they belong to a Christian life, and that I hope,
+by God's blessing, to live henceforth, wherever I may be."
+
+"And what will become of all our projected improvements here?" she
+inquired of her father.
+
+"I shall not leave this place myself, Mary, till I can find some one
+like-minded, who will take our place and do our work. To such a man I
+will sell the property on such terms as he can afford, or if he cannot
+buy, he shall farm it for me."
+
+This last was the arrangement made with one whom Mr. Grahame had known
+in early life, and who had always been distinguished by true Christian
+uprightness and benevolence The terms offered by Mr. Grahame to this
+gentleman were such, that the conscientious and excellent agent became
+in a few years the proprietor and under his fostering care, all those
+plans for the intellectual and moral improvement of the neighborhood
+which had been so happily commenced, were matured and perfected.
+
+It was nearly a year after the departure of his children before Mr.
+Grahame was able to join them at Maitland Park. With his arrival Mary
+felt that her cup of joy was full. It had been with a trembling heart
+that she assumed the brilliant position to which Providence had
+conducted her; not that she feared the judgment of man: her fear had
+been lest in the midst of abundance she should forget the hand that fed
+her--lest amidst the fascinations of an intellectual and polished
+society, she should forget the thick darkness which covered so many
+immortal minds around her. But already she had cast aside this unworthy
+fear, unworthy of Him in whom is the Christian's strength.
+
+The early dream of the Proprietor of Maitland Park is fulfilled. The
+softening and refining presence of woman diffuses a new charm over its
+social life, and while his Mary is to his tenantry what he himself
+predicted, an angel of consolation, she is to him a faithful co-worker
+in all that may advance the reign of peace and righteousness, of
+intelligence and joy, throughout the world.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+
+A Sabbath in the country, with a Sabbath quiet in the air, and a
+cheerful sunlight beaming like the smile of Heaven on the earth--how
+beautiful it is! Donaldson Manor is only a short walk from the church
+whose white spire gleams up amidst the dark grove of pines on our left;
+at least, it is only a short walk in summer, when we can approach it
+through the flowery lanes which separate Col. Donaldson's fields from
+those of his next neighbor, Mr. Manly. Now, however, the walk is
+impracticable, and all the sleighs were yesterday morning in
+requisition, to transport the family and their visitors to their place
+of worship. I was a little afraid that the merry music of the
+sleigh-bells and the rapid drive through the clear air might make our
+young people's blood dance too briskly--that they would be unable to
+preserve that sobriety of manner becoming those who are about
+professedly to engage in the worship of Him who inhabiteth Eternity. I
+was gratified, however, to perceive that they all had good feeling or
+good taste enough to preserve, throughout their drive and the services
+which followed it, a quiet and reverent demeanor. It may seem strange to
+some, that I should characterize this as a possible effect of "good
+taste;" but in my opinion, he who does not pay the tribute at least of
+outward respect to this holy day, is incapable not only of that high,
+spiritual communion which brings man near to his Creator, but of that
+tender sympathy which binds him to his fellow-creatures, or even of
+that poetic taste which would place his soul in harmony with external
+nature. Let it not be thought that I would have this day of blessing to
+the world regarded with a cynical severity, or that the quietness and
+the reverence of which I speak are at all akin to sadness. Were not
+cheerfulness, in my opinion, a part of godliness, I should say of it as
+some one has said of cleanliness, that it is next to godliness. Like my
+favorite, Mrs. Elizabeth Barrett Browning,
+
+    "I think we are too ready with complaint
+    In this fair world of God's;"
+
+and like her, I would utter to all the exhortation,
+
+          "Let us leave the shame and sin
+    Of taking vainly, in a plaintive mood,
+    The holy name of Grief!--holy herein,
+    That, by the grief of One, came all our good."
+
+But cheerfulness, so far from being incompatible with, seems to me
+inseparable from that true worship which is the best source of the
+Sabbath seriousness I am advocating.
+
+The remarks of the preacher were quite in unison with these thoughts,
+and pleased me so much that, were it admissible, I should be delighted
+to dignify my pages with them. By a few vivid touches, in language
+simple, yet beautiful, he sketched for us the first Sabbath amidst the
+living springs and fadeless bloom and verdant shades of Paradise, when
+sinless man communed with his Maker and his Father, not through the poor
+symbols of a ceremonial worship, but face to face, as a man talketh with
+his friend. But all I would say of the Sabbath has been said a thousand
+times better than I could say it, by good George Herbert, whose words I
+am sure I need not apologize for introducing here.
+
+
+SUNDAY.
+
+      O day most calm, most bright!
+    The fruit of this, the next world's bud;
+    Th' indorsement of supreme delight,
+    Writ by a Friend, and with His blood;
+    The couch of time; care's balm and bay:--
+    The week were dark, but for thy light;
+      Thy torch doth show the way.
+
+      The other days and thou
+    Make up one man; whose face _thou_ art,
+    Knocking at heaven with thy brow;
+    The worky days are the back-part;
+    The burden of the week lies there,
+    Making the whole to stoop and bow,
+      Till thy release appear.
+
+      Man hath straight forward gone
+    To endless death. But thou dost pull
+    And turn us round, to look on One,
+    Whom, if we were not very dull,
+    We could not choose but look on still;
+    Since there is no place so alone,
+      The which He doth not fill.
+
+      Sundays the pillars are
+    On which heaven's palace arched lies:
+    The other days fill up the spare
+    And hollow room with vanities.
+    They are the fruitful bed and borders,
+    In God's rich garden; that is bare,
+      Which parts their ranks and orders.
+
+      The Sundays of man's life,
+    Threaded together on time's string,
+    Make bracelets to adorn the wife
+    Of the eternal, glorious King.
+    On Sunday, heaven's gate stands ope;
+    Blessings are plentiful and rife!
+      More plentiful than hope.
+
+      This day my Saviour rose,
+    And did inclose this light for His:
+    That, as each beast his manger knows,
+    Man might not of his fodder miss.
+    Christ hath took in this piece of ground,
+    And made a garden there, for those
+      Who want herbs for their wound.
+
+      The Rest of our creation,
+    Our great Redeemer did remove,
+    With the same shake which, at his passion,
+    Did th' earth, and all things with it, move.
+    As Samson bore the doors away,
+    Christ's hand's, though nailed, wrought our salvation,
+      And did unhinge that day.
+
+      The brightness of that day
+    We sullied, by our foul offence;
+    Wherefore that robe we cast away,
+    Having a new at His expense,
+    Whose drops of blood paid the full price
+    That was required, to make us gay,
+      And fit for paradise.
+
+      Thou art a day of mirth:
+    And, where the week-days trail on ground,
+    Thy flight is higher, as thy birth.
+    Oh, let me take thee at the bound,
+    Leaping with thee from seven to seven;
+    Till that we both, being toss'd from earth,
+      Fly hand in hand to Heaven!
+
+
+It is the custom at Donaldson Manor to close the Sabbath evening with
+sacred music. Annie, at her father's request, played while we all sang
+his favorite evening hymn, which I here transcribe.
+
+
+EVENING HYMN.
+
+    Father! by Thy love and power,
+    Comes again the evening hour;
+    Light hath vanish'd, labors cease,
+    Weary creatures rest, in peace.
+    Those, whose genial dews distil
+      On the lowliest weed that grows
+    Father! guard our couch from ill,
+      Lull thy creatures to repose.
+    We to Thee ourselves resign,
+    Let our latest thoughts be Thine.
+
+    Saviour! to thy Father bear
+    This our feeble evening prayer;
+    Thou hast seen how oft to-day
+    We, like sheep, have gone astray;
+    Worldly thoughts and thoughts of pride,
+      Wishes to Thy cross untrue,
+    Secret faults and undescried
+      Meet Thy spirit-piercing view.
+    Blessed Saviour! yet, through Thee,
+    Pray that these may pardon'd be.
+
+    Holy Spirit! Breath of Balm!
+    Breathe on us in evening's calm.
+    Yet awhile before we sleep,
+    We with Thee will vigils keep.
+    Lead us on our sins to muse,
+      Give us truest penitence,
+    Then the love of God infuse,
+      Kindling humblest confidence.
+    Melt our spirits, mould our will,
+    Soften, strengthen, comfort, still.
+
+    Blessed Trinity! be near
+    Through the hours of darkness drear.
+    When the help of man is far
+    Ye more clearly present are.
+    Father, Son, and Holy Ghost!
+      Watch o'er our defenceless heads,
+    Let your angels' guardian host
+      Keep all evil from our beds,
+    Till the flood of morning rays
+    Wake as to a song of praise.[1]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+
+Mr. Arlington is a gem of the first water. He reveals every day some new
+trait of interest or agreeableness. I saw immediately that he was a man
+of fine taste; I have since learned to respect him as a man of enlarged
+intellect and earnest feeling; and now I am just beginning to discover
+that he is master of all those _agrémens_ which constitute the charm of
+general society, and that he might become the "glass of fashion," if he
+had not a mind elevated too far above such a petty ambition. This last
+observation has been called forth by mere trifles, yet trifles so
+prettily shown, with such ease and grace, as to justify the conclusion.
+He is apt at illustration and application, and has a fine memory, stored
+brimfull of entertaining anecdotes, snatches of poetry, and those
+thousand nothings which tell for so much in society, and which it is so
+pleasant to find combined with much else that is valuable. A few
+evenings since, he kept Annie and me in the library, with his agreeable
+chat, till so late an hour, that Col. Donaldson, who is the least bit of
+a martinet in his own family, gave some very intelligible hints to us
+the next morning, at breakfast, on the value of early hours. With a
+readiness and grace which I never saw surpassed, Mr. Arlington turned to
+us with the exquisite apology of the poet for a like fault,
+
+    "I stay'd too late; forgive the crime;
+      Unheeded flew the hours.
+    Unnoted falls the foot of time,
+      Which only treads on flowers."
+
+This evening again, as he placed a candle-screen before Annie, who,
+having a headache, found the light oppressive, he said with a graceful
+mixture of play and earnest, impossible to describe,
+
+    "Ah, lady! if that taper's blaze
+    Requires a screen to blunt its rays,
+    What screen, not form'd by art divine,
+    Shall shield us from those orbs of thine?
+
+    "But oh! let nothing intervene
+    Our hearts and those bright suns between;
+    'Tis bliss, like the bewilder'd fly
+    To flutter round, though sure to die."
+
+As the others were engaged in very earnest conversation at the time, and
+I was reading, he probably expected to be heard only by her to whom he
+addressed himself; but a little romance, such as that of Annie and Mr.
+Arlington, acted before me, interests me far more than any book, and I
+brought a bright blush to Annie's cheek and a conscious smile to his
+lip, by asking, "Where did you find those very apposite lines? I do not
+remember to have seen them."
+
+"Probably not, as they have never been published. They were addressed by
+Anthony Bleecker, of New-York, to a belle of his day, and the lady for
+whose sake, it is whispered, he lived and died a bachelor."
+
+Our colloquy was here interrupted by Robert Dudley, who wanted to know
+if we were to have no story this evening. Robert was a great lover of
+stories. "Ask Mr. Arlington, Robert," said I, "I have given three
+stories to his one already."
+
+"Aunt Nancy," said Mr. Arlington, who had already begun to give me the
+affectionate cognomen by which I was always addressed at Donaldson
+Manor, "Aunt Nancy has stories without number, written and ready for
+demand, but my portfolio furnishes only rude pencilings, or at best a
+crayon sketch."
+
+"Will you show them to us, Mr. Arlington?" asked the persevering Robert,
+who stood beside him, portfolio in hand. "May I draw one out, as Aunt
+Annie did the other evening; and will you tell us about it?"
+
+Mr. Arlington, with good-humored playfulness, consented, and Robert drew
+from the portfolio one of his drawings, representing a fisherman's
+family.
+
+"That man," said I, as I looked at the honest face of the rude,
+weather-beaten fisherman, "looks as though he had passed through
+adventurous scenes, and might have many a history to tell."
+
+"He did not tell his histories to me," said Mr. Arlington. "I know
+nothing more of them than that paper reveals. It seemed to me that the
+woman and child were visiting, for the first time, the ocean, whose
+booming sound was to the fisherman as the voice of home. He was probably
+introducing them to its wonders--revealing to them the mysteries which
+awaken the superstition of the vulgar and the poetry of the cultivated
+imagination. He has given her, you may observe, a sea-shell, and she is
+listening for the first time to its low, strange music."
+
+"And is that all?" asked Robert, when Mr. Arlington ceased speaking.
+
+"All I know, Robert," he answered, with a smile at the boy's
+earnestness.
+
+"But did you never go fishing yourself, Mr. Arlington?"
+
+"Not often, Robert; I like more active sports better--hunting--"
+
+"Ah! do tell us about your hunting, Mr. Arlington; you must have had
+some adventures in hunting in those great Western forests I have heard
+you speak of."
+
+"The greatest adventure I ever had, Robert," said Mr. Arlington, "was in
+an _Eastern_ forest, and when I was the _hunted_, not the _hunter_."
+
+"Indians, Mr. Arlington--were they Indians that hunted you?"
+
+"No, Robert; my hunters were wolves."
+
+"Oh! pray tell us about it, Mr. Arlington, will you not?"
+
+"Certainly, with the ladies' permission."
+
+The ladies' permission was soon obtained, and our little party listened
+with the deepest interest to the thrilling recital which I have called
+
+
+THE WOLF CHASE.[2]
+
+During the winter of 1844, being engaged in the northern part of Maine,
+I had much leisure to devote to the wild sports of a new country. To
+none of these was I more passionately addicted than to skating. The deep
+and sequestered lakes of this State, frozen by the intense cold of a
+northern winter, present a wide field to the lovers of this pastime.
+Often would I bind on my skates, and glide away up the glittering river,
+and wind each mazy streamlet that flowed beneath its fetters on towards
+the parent ocean, forgetting all the while time and distance in the
+luxurious sense of the gliding motion--thinking of nothing in the easy
+flight, but rather dreaming, as I looked through the transparent ice at
+the long weeds and cresses that nodded in the current beneath, and
+seemed wrestling with the waves to let them go; or I would follow on the
+track of some fox or otter, and run my skate along the mark he had left
+with his dragging tail until the trail would enter the woods. Sometimes
+these excursions were made by moonlight, and it was on one of these
+occasions that I had a rencontre, which even now, with kind faces around
+me, I cannot recall without a nervous looking-over-my-shoulder feeling.
+
+I had left my friend's house one evening just before dusk, with the
+intention of skating a short distance up the noble Kennebec, which
+glided directly before the door. The night was beautifully clear. A
+peerless moon rode through an occasional fleecy cloud, and stars
+twinkled from the sky and from every frost-covered tree in millions.
+Your mind would wonder at the light that came glinting from ice, and
+snow-wreath, and incrusted branches, as the eye followed for miles the
+broad gleam of the Kennebec, that like a jewelled zone swept between the
+mighty forests on its banks. And yet all was still. The cold seemed to
+have frozen tree, and air, and water, and every living thing that moved.
+Even the ringing of my skates on the ice echoed back from the Moccason
+Hill with a startling clearness, and the crackle of the ice as I passed
+over it in my course seemed to follow the tide of the river with
+lightning speed.
+
+I had gone up the river nearly two miles when, coming to a little stream
+which empties into the larger, I turned in to explore its course. Fir
+and hemlock of a century's growth met overhead, and formed an archway
+radiant with frost-work. All was dark within, but I was young and
+fearless, and as I peered into an unbroken forest that reared itself on
+the borders of the stream, I laughed with very joyousness: my wild
+hurrah rang through the silent woods, and I stood listening to the echo
+that reverberated again and again, until all was hushed. I thought how
+often the Indian hunter had concealed himself behind these very
+trees--how often his arrow had pierced the deer by this very stream, and
+his wild halloo had here rung for his victory. And then, turning from
+fancy to reality, I watched a couple of white owls, that sat in their
+hooded state, with ruffled pantalettes and long ear-tabs, debating in
+silent conclave the affairs of their frozen realm, and was wondering if
+they, "for all their feathers, were a-cold," when suddenly a sound
+arose--it seemed to me to come from beneath the ice; it sounded low and
+tremulous at first, until it ended in one wild yell. I was appalled.
+Never before had such a noise met my ears. I thought it more than
+mortal--so fierce, and amidst such an unbroken solitude, it seemed as
+though a fiend had blown a blast from an infernal trumpet. Presently I
+heard the twigs on shore snap, as though from the tread of some brute
+animal, and the blood rushed back to my forehead with a bound that made
+my skin burn, and I felt relieved that I had to contend with things
+earthly, and not of spiritual nature--my energies returned, and I looked
+around me for some means of escape. The moon shone through the opening
+at the mouth of the creek by which I had entered the forest, and
+considering this the best channel of escape, I darted towards it like an
+arrow. 'Twas scarcely a hundred yards distant, and the swallow could
+hardly excel my desperate flight; yet, as I turned my head to the shore,
+I could see two dark objects dashing through the underbrush at a pace
+nearly double in speed to my own. By this rapidity, and the short yells
+which they occasionally gave, I knew at once that these were the much
+dreaded gray wolf.
+
+I had never met with these animals, but from the description given of
+them I had very little pleasure in making their acquaintance. Their
+untameable fierceness, and the untiring strength which seems part of
+their nature, render them objects of dread to every benighted traveller.
+
+    "With their long gallop, which can tire
+    The deer-hound's haste, the hunter's fire,"
+
+they pursue their prey--never straying from the track of their
+victim--and as the wearied hunter thinks he has at last outstripped
+them, he finds that they but waited for the evening to seize their prey,
+and falls a prize to the tireless pursuers.
+
+The bushes that skirted the shore flew past with the velocity of
+lightning as I dashed on in my flight to pass the narrow opening. The
+outlet was nearly gained; one second more and I should be comparatively
+safe, when the fierce brutes appeared on the bank directly above me,
+which here rose to the height of ten feet. There was no time for
+thought, so I bent my head and dashed madly forward. The wolves sprang,
+but miscalculating my speed, sprang behind, while their intended prey
+glided out upon the river.
+
+Nature turned me towards home. The light flakes of snow spun from the
+iron of my skates, and I was some distance from my pursuers, when their
+fierce howl told me I was still their fugitive. I did not look back, I
+did not feel afraid, or sorry, or glad; one thought of home, of the
+bright faces awaiting my return, of their tears if they never should see
+me, and then every energy of body and mind was exerted for escape. I was
+perfectly at home on the ice. Many were the days that I had spent on my
+good skates, never thinking that at one time they would be my only means
+of safety. Every half minute an alternate yelp from my ferocious
+followers made me only too certain that they were in close pursuit.
+Nearer and nearer they came; I heard their feet pattering on the ice
+nearer still, until I could feel their breath and hear their snuffing
+scent. Every nerve and muscle in my frame were stretched to the utmost
+tension.
+
+The trees along the shore seemed to dance in the uncertain light, and my
+brain turned with my own breathless speed, yet still they seemed to hiss
+forth their breath with a sound truly horrible, when an involuntary
+motion on my part turned me out of my course. The wolves close behind,
+unable to stop, and as unable to turn on the smooth ice, slipped and
+fell, still going on far ahead; their tongues were lolling out, their
+white tusks glaring from their bloody mouths, their dark, shaggy breasts
+were fleeced with foam, and as they passed me their eyes glared, and
+they howled with fury. The thought flashed on my mind, that by this
+means I could avoid them, viz., by turning aside whenever they came too
+near; for they, by the formation of their feet, are unable to run on ice
+except on a straight line.
+
+I immediately acted upon this plan. The wolves, having regained their
+feet, sprang directly towards me. The race was renewed for twenty yards
+up the stream; they were already close on my back, when I glided round
+and dashed directly past my pursuers. A wild yell greeted my evolution,
+and the wolves, slipping upon their haunches, sailed onward, presenting
+a perfect picture of helplessness and baffled rage. Thus I gained nearly
+a hundred yards at each turning. This was repeated two or three times,
+every moment the animals getting more excited and baffled.
+
+At one time, by delaying my turning too long, my sanguinary antagonists
+came so near, that they threw the white foam over my dress as they
+sprang to seize me, and their teeth clashed together, like the spring of
+a fox-trap. Had my skates failed for one instant, had I tripped on a
+stick, or caught my foot in a fissure in the ice, the story I am now
+telling would never have been told. I thought all the chances over; I
+knew where they would first take hold of me if I fell; I thought how
+long it would be before I died, and then there would be a search for the
+body that would already have its tomb;--for oh! how fast man's mind
+traces out all the dread colors of Death's picture, only those who have
+been near the grim original can tell.
+
+But soon I came opposite the house, and my hounds--I knew their deep
+voices--roused by the noise, bayed furiously from the kennels. I heard
+their chains rattle; how I wished they would break them! and then I
+should have protectors that would be peers to the fiercest denizens of
+the forest. The wolves, taking the hint conveyed by the dogs, stopped in
+their mad career, and after a moment's consideration, turned and fled. I
+watched them until their dusky forms disappeared over a neighboring
+hill. Then, taking off my skates, wended my way to the house, with
+feelings which may be better imagined than described.
+
+But even yet, I never see a broad sheet of ice in the moonshine, without
+thinking of that snuffling breath and those fearful things that followed
+me so closely down the frozen Kennebec.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+
+"What a noble forest!" cried Annie, as she gazed with rapturous
+admiration on a noble specimen of the engraver's art--so noble, indeed,
+that the absence of color seemed hardly to be felt. It was a
+richly-wooded scene, with interesting figures forming a procession in
+the centre and foreground of the landscape. The original might have been
+painted by Ruysdaël. "Those old oaks," she exclaimed, "with their
+gnarled and crooked branches, look as though they might have formed part
+of the Druidical groves whose solemn mysteries inspired even the
+arrogant Roman with awe. This picture, however, belongs to a later
+period--that of the Crusades, perhaps, for here is a procession in which
+appear figures in the long robe of the monk, and I think I can discern a
+cross on that banner borne at their head. But what, dear Aunt Nancy,
+could you possibly find in our land of yesterday, to associate with such
+a scene?"
+
+"Our people may be of yesterday, Annie, but our land bears no marks of
+recent origin. The most arrogant boaster of the Old World may feel
+himself humbled as he stands within the shadow of our forests, and looks
+up to trees which we might almost fancy to have waved over the heads of
+'the patriarchs of an infant world?'"
+
+"And you have seen some such forests, and on the branches of these old
+trees 'hangs a tale' which you will tell us. Is it not so, Aunt Nancy?"
+
+"I have seen such a forest, and I have a sketch of certain events
+occurring within its circle. The narrative was given me by my friend,
+Mrs. H., who was acquainted with the parties. You will find it in her
+handwriting in the compartment of my desk from which you took the
+engraving."
+
+Annie found the paper, and I saw a quiet smile pass around as she read
+aloud its title. Mr. Arlington, at my request, took the reader's place,
+and we spent our evening in listening to
+
+
+THE HISTORY OF AN OLD MAID.
+
+It is an almost universal belief among those who have faith in man's
+immortality, that when his spiritual nature has been divested of its
+present veil--the bodily organization by which it at pleasure reveals or
+conceals itself--it shall be manifested to all at a glance in the
+unsullied beauty of holiness, or the dark deformity of vice. Shall our
+vision extend further? Shall we read the soul's past history? Shall we
+know the struggles which have given strength to its powers? The fears
+which have shadowed, and the hopes which have lighted, its earthly path?
+Shall we learn the unspoken sacrifices which have been laid on the altar
+of its affections or its duty? Shall we see how a single generous
+impulse has shaped the whole course of its being, and been as a heavenly
+flame, to which every selfish desire and feeling have been committed in
+noiseless devotion? If this be so, how many such records shall be
+furnished by the life of woman? How often shall it be found, that from
+such a flame has risen the light with which she has brightened the
+existence of others!
+
+Meeta Werner was the daughter of industrious, honest Germans, who had
+emigrated to the western part of Pennsylvania when she was a child of
+only seven years old. Only a quarter of a mile from the spot on which
+Carl Werner had fixed his residence lived a brother German, Franz
+Rainer. Franz was a widower, with one child, a son, named Ernest. He was
+a hard, stern man, and the first smiles which had lighted the existence
+of the young Ernest were caught from the sprightly Meeta and her
+kind-hearted mother. The children became playfellows and friends. It was
+a wild country in which they lived. A very short walk from their own
+doors brought them into a forest which seemed to their young
+imaginations endless; where gigantic trees interlaced their branches,
+and with their green foliage shut out the sun in summer, or in winter
+reflected it in dazzling brightness, and a thousand gorgeous colors,
+from the icicles which cased their leafless branches and pendent twigs.
+There was not a footpath, a sunny hill or flowery dell, for miles around
+their homes, which had not been trodden together by Meeta Werner and
+Ernest Rainer before their acquaintance was a year old. Now they would
+come home laden with wood-flowers, and now they might be seen treading
+wearily back from some distant spot, with baskets filled with
+blackberries, or with the dark-blue whortleberries. There were no
+schools in the neighborhood, but they had been taught by their fathers
+to read and write their own language, and Ernest afterwards acquired
+some knowledge of English from the good pastor who had accompanied the
+emigrants from Germany, and who acted as their interpreter when they
+required one. Having access to few books, they seemed likely to grow up
+with little more learning than might be gathered from their own
+observation of the world around them; but when Ernest was eighteen and
+Meeta fifteen years of age, circumstances occurred which gave an
+entirely new coloring to their lives.
+
+Franz Rainer had not always been so stern and hard as he now seemed. He
+had married imprudently, in the world's acceptation of that term; that
+is, he had made a portionless but lovely girl his wife, and in doing so
+had incurred his father's lasting displeasure. He had been banished from
+a home of plenty with a small sum, "to keep him from starving," he was
+told. With that sum and a young delicate wife he sailed for America, and
+found a home for himself and his boy, and a grave for his wife, in the
+forests of Pennsylvania. Too proud to seek a reconciliation with those
+who had cast him off, he had held no communication with his own family
+after leaving Germany; and it was not till Ernest was, as we have said,
+eighteen, that the silence of his home was broken by what seemed a voice
+from the past. After many hindrances and delays, and passing through
+many hands for which it had not been intended, a letter reached him from
+a merchant in Philadelphia, who had been requested to institute a search
+for Franz by his only brother. The old Rainer was dead, and the family
+estate had descended to this brother, a scholar and a man of solitary
+habits. Finding himself growing old in a lonely home, and retaining some
+kindly memory of the brother in whose companionship his childhood had
+been passed, he wished him to return to Germany, and again dwell with
+them in the house of their fathers. To this Franz would by no means
+consent. His nature was cast in too stern a mould to re-knit at a word
+the ties which had been so violently sundered. He consented, however,
+after some correspondence with his brother, to send Ernest to Germany,
+to be educated there; at least, to receive such an education as could be
+gained in four years; for he insisted that at the end of that time he
+should return to America, and remain there while his father lived.
+"After my death, if he choose to return to the home from which his
+father was banished, he may," wrote the still resentful Franz.
+
+And how was this change in all the prospects of his life received by the
+young Ernest and his companion Meeta? By him with mingled feelings;
+regret, joy, fear, hope, by turns ruled his soul. The regret was all for
+Meeta and her mother; they were the sources of all his pleasant
+memories; and as he gazed upon Meeta's hitherto bright face, now
+clouded with sorrow, and kissed from her cheek the first tears he had
+ever known her to shed for herself, he was ready to give up all his fair
+prospects abroad and live with her for ever. Meeta herself, however,
+gave a new direction to his thoughts, by generously turning from the
+subject of her grief in parting, to dwell on the idea of the delight
+with which they would meet again, and especially on her peculiar
+pleasure in seeing Ernest come back "riding in a grand coach, with
+servants following him on horseback, as she remembered to have seen in
+Germany, and knowing enough to teach Parson Schmidt himself!" After
+listening to such prophecies, Ernest no longer expressed any desire to
+remain with Meeta; he contented himself, instead, with promising to
+return as soon as he could, and with winning from her a promise that,
+come when he might, she would be his wife. This was not a new thought or
+a new word to either. They could scarcely tell themselves when the idea
+had first arisen in their minds that they would one day live together,
+and be what Carl Werner and his wife were to each other. They had even
+chosen a site for their house; and Ernest had more than once of late
+expressed the opinion that they were old enough to inform their parents
+of their intentions; but the more timid Meeta objected. Now, however,
+she could refuse Ernest nothing, and before the day of parting came they
+had made a _confidante_ of Meeta's mother, and from her the two fathers
+had learned the desires of their children. Carl Werner heard the story
+with a smile; but a denser shadow gathered on the dark brow of Franz.
+For a moment something of his father's pride was in his heart; but his
+own blighted life arose before him, and he said, "The boy may do as he
+pleases. No man has a right to control another on such a subject."
+
+The sun had not yet risen, though its rays were gilding the few light
+clouds that flecked the eastern sky, when Meeta and Ernest stood
+together beneath an old oak which had long been their favorite
+"trysting-tree," to say those words and give and receive those last
+looks which are among life's most sacred treasures. Smiles and blushes
+mingled with tears on Meeta's cheek as Ernest pressed her to his bosom,
+kissed her again and again, and promised that his first letter from
+Germany should be addressed to her, and that in exactly four years from
+that date he would be again beneath that tree, to claim her promise to
+be his for ever. The voice of Carl Werner, who was to accompany Ernest
+the first stage of his journey, startled them in the midst of their
+adieus; and bursting from the arms of her companion, Meeta plunged
+deeper into the woods to escape her father's eye. When Carl returned in
+the evening he handed her a small parcel, saying, "There's some foolery
+that Ernest bought for you, Meeta. Silly boy! I hope they'll teach him
+in Germany to take better care of his money!"
+
+The parcel contained a very plain locket, with one of Ernest's dark
+curls inclosed in it. Plain as it was, it seemed to Meeta, as it
+probably had seemed to Ernest, a magnificent present; yet she valued
+more the few simple words written on the paper which enveloped it: "For
+Meeta, my promised wife." Four months passed away before Meeta heard
+again of her lover. Then there came a letter to her, which was full of
+the great cities through which Ernest had passed, the home to which he
+had come, and the new life which was opening to him there. In his
+descriptions his uncle seemed a very grand gentleman, and his uncle's
+housekeeper almost as grand a lady. He told of the new wardrobe which
+had been provided for him, the acquaintances to whom he had been
+introduced, and the studies he had commenced. And in all this Meeta saw
+but the first step towards that grandeur which she had predicted for
+him, and she rejoiced.
+
+Four or five such letters were received by Meeta, each full of her
+lover himself; but they came at lengthening intervals, and during the
+third year she received from him only messages sent through his father,
+though every message still conveyed a promise to write soon. The letters
+of Ernest showed that he had made great advances in scholarship during
+his residence in Germany, and to all but Meeta herself, and perhaps her
+mother, they gave equal evidence that his heart was not with the home or
+the friends he had left in America. But no shadow ever passed over the
+transparent face of Meeta. Ernest was to her still the frank, ardent,
+simple-hearted boy whom she had loved so long and so truly. She was
+still his promised wife. Her quick sensibility to all which touched him
+made her feel that there was a change in the tone with which her father
+named him, and an expression, half of anger, half of pity, on his face
+when she alluded to him. It was an expression which gave her pain,
+though she did not understand its meaning; and she ceased to speak of
+Ernest, lest she should call it up; but his locket lay next her heart,
+his letters were well-nigh worn away with frequent reading, and no day
+passed in which she did not visit the oak beneath which they had parted,
+and beneath which she fondly believed they were to meet again.
+
+During the fourth year of Ernest's absence his letters to his father
+became more frequent, and sometimes inclosed a few lines to Meeta. To
+both he expressed a strong desire to stay one more year abroad, alleging
+that to interrupt his studies now would be to render all his past labors
+unavailing. There was hardly a struggle in Meeta's mind in yielding her
+almost matured hopes to what seemed so reasonable a wish of Ernest; but
+the elder Rainer was not so easily won to compliance. Urgent
+representations from his brother as well as Ernest, did at length,
+however, induce him to consent to the absence of his son for another
+year.
+
+This was an important year to Meeta. It brought her an acquaintance
+through whom her dormant intellect was aroused, and her manners fitted
+for something more than the rude life by which she had been hitherto
+surrounded. This was Mrs. Schwartz, the wife of a young pastor, who had
+come to assist Mr. Schmidt in those duties to which his advancing years
+rendered him unequal. Mrs. Schwartz was a woman of no ordinary stamp.
+Highly educated, with an intense enjoyment of every form of beauty and
+grace, she saw something of them embellishing the homeliest employments
+and most common life with which a sentiment of duty was connected.
+Severe illness had confined her to her bed for many weeks soon after her
+arrival, and before she had been able to establish that perfect domestic
+economy, which renders the daily and hourly inspection and interference
+of the mistress of a mansion needless to the comfort of its inmates.
+During this period, Meeta, whose sympathies had been deeply interested
+in the stranger, nursed her, and planned for her, and worked for her,
+until she made herself a place in her heart among her life-friends. As
+Mrs. Schwartz saw her moving around her with such busy kindness, the
+thought often arose in her mind, "What can I do for her?" This is a
+question we seldom ask ourselves of any one sincerely without finding an
+answer to it.
+
+We have said that Meeta had access to few books in early life; we might
+have added that she had little opportunity of hearing the conversation
+of persons more cultivated than herself. Thus were the two great sources
+of intellectual development sealed to her. She had a thoughtful, earnest
+mind. She loved the beautiful world around her, and the GREAT BEING who
+made and sustained that world. But if the contemplation of these things
+awakened thoughts of a higher character than the daily baking and
+brewing, milking and scrubbing in her father's house, she had no
+language in which to clothe them, and vague and undefined, they fleeted
+away like the morning mists, leaving no impress of their presence. Her
+acquaintance with Mrs. Schwartz, and the conversation she sometimes
+heard between her and her husband, gave to these shadows substance and
+form, and awakened a new want in Meeta's soul--the want of knowledge. As
+in all else, Ernest was present in this. He would doubtless be
+intelligent, wise, like Mr. Schwartz, and how could she be his
+companion? Something of these new experiences in Meeta was divined by
+Mrs. Schwartz, and with a true womanly tact she became her teacher
+without wounding her self-love. The road to knowledge once opened to
+Meeta, her advance on it was rapid. How could it be otherwise, when
+every step was bringing her nearer to Earnest! The elevation and
+refinement of mind which Meeta thus acquired impressed themselves on her
+agreeable features. Her dark eyes became bright with the soul's light,
+and her whole aspect so attractive, that her old friends exclaimed, as
+they looked upon her, "How handsome Meeta Werner grows, she who used to
+be so plain!"
+
+After a time these superficial observers thought they had found the
+cause of this change in Meeta's change of costume, for a new sense of
+beauty had been awakened in her, under whose guidance her dark hair was
+brought in soft silken braids upon her cheeks, wound gracefully around
+her well-shaped head, and sometimes ornamented with a ribbon or a
+cluster of wild flowers: while her dresses where remodelled so as to
+resemble less the fashion which her mother and her sister emigrants had
+imported thirteen years before from Germany, and to give a more natural
+air to her really fine figure.
+
+"How wonderfully Meeta has improved," said Mr. Schwartz, one evening to
+his wife, as he looked after the retreating form of her friend.
+
+"Yes, and I am truly rejoiced that she has so improved before her lover
+returns to claim her."
+
+"I wish he could have taken away with him such an impression as our
+handsome and intelligent Meeta would now make. He would have been much
+more likely to remain constant to her. There must be a painful contrast
+between the cultivated and graceful women he has known in Germany, and
+his memory of his early love."
+
+"Love is a great embellisher," said Mrs. Schwartz, with a gay smile, and
+the conversation passed to more general topics.
+
+The fifth year of Ernest's absence was gone, and still he came not; but
+he was coming soon, at least so his father said, though he did not show
+Meeta the letters on which he founded his assertion. It was the first
+time he had withheld them; a circumstance the more remarkable, because
+of late he seemed to regard Meeta with greater affection and confidence
+than he had ever done before. He now sought her society, and seemed
+pleased and even proud of the connection to which he had at first
+consented with some reluctance. It was very soon after the reception of
+the letter from Ernest to which we have alluded, that Franz Rainer's
+health began to fail, and that so rapidly, that Meeta feared Ernest
+could not arrive in time to see him. She was to the old man an angel of
+consolation, and he clung to her as to his last hope. In pity to his
+lonely condition, her own parents were willing to spare her for a time,
+and Meeta, that she might take care of him by night as well as by day,
+had removed to his house a week before Ernest's arrival. He came not
+wholly unwarned of the sorrow that awaited him, for he had found a
+letter from Meeta at the house of the merchant in Philadelphia through
+whom he had corresponded with his father, tenderly yet plainly revealing
+her fears, and urging him to hurry homeward without delay. He travelled
+with little rest or refreshment for two days and nights, and arrived
+late on the third day at his father's house. It was a still summer
+evening, and while the old man slept, Meeta sat near him in the only
+parlor the house afforded, reading by a shaded night lamp. She heard
+the sound of carriage wheels, and paused to listen; the sound ceased; a
+shadow darkened the moonlight which had been streaming through an open
+window, and then Ernest, the playfellow of her childhood, the lover of
+her youth, stood before her; but how changed, how gloriously changed
+thought Meeta, even in that hour of hurry and agitation. They gazed on
+each other in silence for a moment, and then Meeta with a bright smile,
+yet in a whisper, for even then she forgot not the dying man, asked:
+
+"Do you not know me, Ernest?"
+
+"Meeta!" he ejaculated, as he took the hand she extended to him, but
+dropping it almost immediately, he said anxiously: "My father! he lives,
+Meeta?"
+
+"He does, Ernest, and may live, I think _will_ live, for many days yet."
+
+"Thank GOD! then I shall see him again!"
+
+The conversation had till now been in whispers, but Ernest uttered his
+ejaculation of thankfulness aloud. There was a movement in the old man's
+room, a sound, and Meeta glided to his side.
+
+"Who were you talking with, my daughter?" he murmured feebly. For many
+days Franz Rainer had called Meeta daughter, as though he found pleasure
+in recalling the tie between them.
+
+"With one who tells me Ernest has arrived, and will see you soon," said
+Meeta.
+
+"It is Ernest himself. I knew his voice: Ernest, my son!" And the old
+man's tones were loud and strong, as Meeta had heard them for days. In
+another moment, Ernest was bending over his father, and they were gazing
+on each other with a tenderness whose very existence they had not before
+suspected. Tears were rolling down the face of the once stern old man,
+as he pressed his son's hand again and again, and murmured blessings on
+him, and thanks to GOD for his safe return; and Ernest, as he marked the
+death-shadow on his father's brow, felt that a tie was tearing away
+which had been woven more intimately than he had supposed with his
+heart's fibres. The weeping Meeta composed herself that she might soothe
+them.
+
+"Ernest, I cannot let you stay longer here; I am your father's nurse."
+
+"My nurse, my daughter, my all, Ernest; your gift to me, my son, which,
+thank GOD! you have come in time to receive again from my hands. Take
+her to you, Ernest."
+
+The old man held Meeta's hand clasped in his own towards his son, and
+Ernest touched it, but so slightly and with a hand so cold, that Meeta
+looked up in alarm. There was a beseeching expression in the eyes that
+met hers; a look which she did not understand, and yet on which she
+acted.
+
+"Ernest," she said, "you are fatigued to death, and your father has been
+too much agitated already. Go, I pray you, for the present; I cannot
+leave your father, but you will find coffee and biscuits by the kitchen
+fire, and there is a bed prepared in your own room. Good-night; we shall
+meet again to-morrow," she added with a smile to the old man.
+
+Ernest gave her a more cordial glance and pressure of the hand than she
+had yet received from him; told his father that he would only snatch an
+hour's sleep and be with him again, and left the room.
+
+"Go with him, Meeta; you must have much to say."
+
+"Nothing that we cannot say as well to-morrow. And now you must take
+another sleeping draught, for I see Ernest has carried off all the
+effect of your last."
+
+Meeta spoke cheerfully, yet her heart was sad, she scarcely knew why.
+She would not think Ernest unkind, yet how different had been their
+meeting from that which fancy had so often sketched for her!
+
+Franz Rainer fell asleep, and again Meeta returned to the parlor. A lamp
+was still burning there, and by its dim light she saw the form of Ernest
+extended on a settee with his cloak and valise for his bed and pillow.
+At first she drew timidly back into the chamber, but as the slight noise
+she had made before perceiving him, had failed to disturb him, she felt
+assured that he slept soundly, and an irresistible desire arose in her
+heart to draw near him, and look at him more closely than she had yet
+ventured to do. She stood beside him; her heart bounded against the
+locket, his gift, which lay in its accustomed place, as she marked with
+a quick eye how the handsome but uncouth stripling had expanded into the
+man of noble proportions, whose features had, like her own, acquired a
+new character under the refining touch of intellect. Meeta looked on him
+till her eyes grew dim with tears pressed from a heart full of emotion,
+compounded of happy memories and glad hopes, shadowed by disappointment
+and saddened by doubt. Above all other feelings, however, rose the
+undying love which had "grown with her growth, and strengthened with her
+strength." Suddenly, by an irrepressible impulse, she laid her hand
+softly on the dark locks of waving hair which clustered over his broad
+brow, and breathed in low, tender accents, "My Ernest!"
+
+On leaving his father's room, Ernest had thrown himself on his hard
+couch, not to sleep, but to rest; and when slumber overpowered him, he
+had yielded to it unwillingly, and with the determination to be on the
+alert and ready to arise on the first summons. Sleep that comes thus,
+howsoever it may continue through other disturbing causes, rarely
+resists a touch, or the sound of our own name, and light as was Meeta's
+touch, and low as were her tones, Ernest was partially aroused by them.
+He stirred, and she would have retreated noiselessly from his side, but
+as his eyes unclosed, they fell upon her with an expression of such
+rapturous love as she had never seen in them before, and in an instant
+he had encircled her form with his arm, and drawn her to his bosom. In
+glad surprise she rested there a moment; it was but a moment.
+
+"Sophie--my Sophie!" were the murmured words that met her ear, and gave
+her strength to burst from his embraces and glide rapidly, noiselessly
+back into the darkened chamber. There, sheltered by the darkness, she
+could see Ernest raise himself slowly up from his couch, look almost
+wildly around him, and then seemingly satisfied that he had only
+dreamed, sink back again to rest.
+
+A dream it had indeed been to him; a shadow of the night; to Meeta a
+dark cloud, in whose gloom she was henceforth to walk for ever. Hours of
+conversation could not so fully have revealed the truth to Meeta as
+those simple words: "Sophie--my Sophie!" uttered by Ernest in such a
+tone of heart-worship. Ernest loved with all the fond idolatry which she
+had thought of late belonged not to man's affections; but he loved
+another. Jealousy; the bitter consciousness of her own slighted love;
+the memory of his vows; the crushing thought that she was nothing to him
+now; that while he had been the life of her life, another had filled his
+thoughts and ruled his being, created a wild tempest in her soul. All
+was still around her. The sick man, the tired Ernest slept; and without,
+not even the rustling of a leaf disturbed the repose of Nature. She
+seemed to herself the only living thing in the universe; and to her,
+life was torture. An hour passed in this still concentrated agony, and
+she could endure it no longer; she must be up and doing; she would wake
+Ernest; she would tell him the revelation she had made; upbraid him with
+her blighted life, and leave him. Let him send for his Sophie; what did
+she, the outcast, the rejected, there in his house?--why should she
+nurse his father? She arose and approached again the couch of Ernest;
+she was about to call to him, but she was arrested by the expression of
+agony in his face. His brow was contracted, and as she continued to
+gaze, low moans issued from his quivering lips. Ernest too was a
+sufferer; how that thought softened the hard, cold, icy crust that had
+been gathering around her heart! The bitterness of pride and jealousy
+gave place to tenderer emotions. Tears gathered in her eyes, and
+stealing softly back to her sheltered seat, she wept long and silently.
+
+"In sorrow the angels are near;" and Meeta's heart was now full of
+sorrow, not of anger. Sad must her life ever be, but what of that, if
+Ernest could be happy? Perhaps he suffered for her; the good, true
+Ernest. It might be that only in dreams he had told his love to Sophie,
+bound to silence, painful silence, by his vows to her. She then could
+make him happy, and was not that her first desire? If it were not, her
+love was a low, selfish, unworthy love, and she would pray that it might
+be purified. She did pray, not as she would have done an hour before, to
+be taken out of the world, but that she might be made meet to do the
+will of her FATHER while in the world. She prayed for herself, for
+Ernest; and sweet peace stole into her heart, and before the morning
+light came, she had resolved not to leave the old man who loved her,
+during his few remaining days, yet not to keep Ernest in doubt of his
+own freedom. She was impatient that he should awake, and fell asleep
+imagining various modes of making her communication to him. Exhausted by
+mental agitation even more than by watching, she slept long and heavily.
+When she awoke, Ernest was shading the window at her side, through which
+the sun was shining brightly into the room. As she moved he looked at
+her kindly, and said:
+
+"I am afraid I awoke you, Meeta, when I meant only to prolong your sleep
+by shutting out this light."
+
+"I have slept long enough," was all that Meeta could say. The old Rainer
+was awake, and dreading above all things some allusions from him to the
+supposed relations of Ernest and herself, she hastened from the room and
+busied herself in the preparation of breakfast. Having seen that meal
+placed upon the table, she returned to the sick room and begged that
+Ernest would pour out his own coffee, while she did some things that
+were essential to his father's comfort. She lingered till Ernest came to
+see whether he could take her place, and then, as the old man slept
+peacefully, and she could make no further excuse, she accompanied him
+back to the table. The breakfast, a mere form to Meeta at least,
+proceeded in silence, or with only a casual remark from Ernest, scarcely
+heard by her, on the weather, the rapidity with which he had travelled,
+or his father's condition. Suddenly Meeta seemed to arouse herself as
+from a deep reverie:
+
+"Why do you not talk to me of Sophie?" she said, attempting to speak
+gayly, though one less embarrassed than Ernest could not have failed to
+note the tremulousness of her voice, and the quivering of the pallid lip
+which vainly strove to smile.
+
+But Meeta's agitation was as nothing to that of Ernest. For a moment he
+gazed upon her as though spell-bound, then dropping his face into his
+clasped hands, sat actually shivering before her. It was plain that
+Ernest had not lightly estimated his obligations to her. If he had
+sinned against them he had not despised them, and this conviction gave
+new strength to Meeta. She rose for the hour superior to every selfish
+emotion. Laying her hand upon his arm, she said, gently:
+
+"Be not so agitated, Ernest; can you not regard me as your friend, and
+talk to me as you did in old days of all that disturbs you; and why
+should you be disturbed at my speaking of--of your Sophie? You do not
+suppose that--you know that--in short, Ernest, we cannot be expected to
+feel now as we did five years ago; but surely that need not prevent our
+being friends."
+
+Meeta had been herself too much confused of late, to remark her
+companion. When she now ventured with great effort to meet his eyes, she
+found them fixed upon her with an expression of lively admiration and
+grateful joy.
+
+"Meeta, dear Meeta!" he exclaimed, seizing her hand and kissing it. "You
+give me new life. I have been a miserable man for weeks past, torn by
+conflicting claims upon my heart and my honor. You had claims on both,
+Meeta; sacred claims, which I could never have asked you to forego; and
+so had Sophie, for though I resisted long, there came a moment of mad
+passion, of madder forgetfulness, in which, abandoning myself to the
+present, I sought and obtained an avowal of her love. It was scarcely
+over ere I felt the wrong I had done. I revealed that wrong to her; pity
+me, Meeta! I told her all--your claims, your worth. To you I resolved to
+be equally frank, and my only hope was in your generosity. But my father
+had never suffered me to doubt that your heart was still mine, and
+though I was assured that you would enable me to fulfil my obligations
+to Sophie, I feared, I mean, I could not hope, that it would be without
+any sacrifice; I mean without any regrets on your part."
+
+Ernest paused in some embarrassment; but Meeta could not speak, and he
+resumed:
+
+"You have made me perfectly happy, Meeta, which even Sophie could not
+have done, had I been compelled in devoting myself to her to relinquish
+the friend and sister of my childhood."
+
+"Always regard me thus, Ernest, as your friend and sister, and I shall
+be satisfied."
+
+Meeta had risen to return to the sick room, but Ernest caught her hand
+and held her back, while he said:
+
+"But you must see my Sophie, Meeta; you must know her and then you will
+love her too. She will be here soon with her sister, Mrs. Schwartz."
+
+"Mrs. Schwartz her sister? Then my last doubt is removed Ernest. She is
+worthy of you."
+
+"Worthy of me!" And Ernest would have run into all a lover's rhapsodies
+on this text, but Meeta had escaped from him.
+
+Hitherto Meeta's life had been one of quietness, of inaction, and now in
+a few short weeks ages of active existence seemed crowded. One object
+she had set before her as the great aim of her life; it was to secure
+Ernest's happiness and preserve his honor. She understood now the
+coldness with which her father had of late named him. It was essential
+to her peace that this coldness should not deepen into anger. Not even
+in her own family then must she have rest from the strife between her
+inner and her outer life. Sympathy she must not have, since sympathy
+with her was almost inseparably connected with reproach of Ernest. Time
+had another lesson to teach, and Meeta soon learned it; that in a combat
+such as she had to sustain, no half-way measures would suffice, that she
+must not drive her griefs down to the depths of her heart, shutting them
+there from every human eye, but she must drive them out of her heart. We
+talk of feigning cheerfulness, of wearing a mask for the world and
+throwing it off in solitude, and we may do this for a week, a month, a
+year, but those who have a life-grief to sustain, from whose hearts hope
+has died out, know that there are only two paths open to them in the
+universe; to lie down in their despair and breathe out their souls in
+murmurs against their GOD, and lamentations over their destiny; or,
+humbly kissing the rod which has smitten them, to go forth out of
+themselves, where all is darkness and woe, and find a new and happier
+life in living for and in others. And thus did Meeta.
+
+We may not linger over the details of the next few weeks of her
+existence. The old Rainer died; died blessing his children, Ernest and
+Meeta, and praying for their happiness. Often would Ernest have told him
+all; but Meeta kept back a disclosure which would have given him pain.
+"Do not disturb him now, Ernest," she said; "he will know all soon, and
+bless your Sophie from heaven, where there is no sorrow."
+
+Meeta returned home, and exhaustion won for her a few days rest; rest
+even from her mental struggles; but when the funeral was over, and
+things returned to their usual routine, she felt that she must prepare
+her father and mother to receive Ernest in the character in which they
+were henceforth to regard him. She found strength for this in her lofty
+purpose and her simple dependence upon Heaven, and her voice did not
+falter nor her color change as she said to her mother:--
+
+"Do you not think Ernest is much altered?"
+
+"Yes, he is greatly improved."
+
+"Improved! Well, he may be so to the eyes of others, but--"
+
+"Is he not as tender to you, my daughter?" asked the sensitive mother.
+
+"That is not it," said Meeta, coloring for the first time: "we neither
+of us feel as we once did; it was a childish folly to suppose that we
+should. I have told Ernest that I could not fulfil our engagement, and
+he is satisfied."
+
+Madame Werner looked long at her daughter, but Meeta met the glance
+firmly.
+
+"And is this all, Meeta?"
+
+"All! What more would you have, dear mother?"
+
+"And are you happy, Meeta?"
+
+"Happier than I should be in marrying Ernest now, dear mother."
+
+Madame Werner explained all this to her husband, at her daughter's
+request. He was not grieved at it. "Ernest," he said, "had never valued
+Meeta as she deserved. He was glad she had shown so much spirit."
+
+Meeta had a more difficult task to perform. Mrs. Schwartz's sister has
+come at last. She came from Germany at the same time with Ernest, but
+stopped to make a visit to another sister in Philadelphia, and arrived
+here only last night. "I will go and see her," said Meeta one morning to
+Madame Werner. She went. As she approached the house, there came through
+the open windows the sound of an organ, accompanied by a rich and highly
+cultivated voice. Meeta would not pause for a moment, lest she should
+grow nervous. It was essential to Ernest's happiness that Sophie should
+be friendly with her; and the difficulties were of a nature which, if
+not overcome at once, would not be overcome at all. Meeta entered the
+small parlor without knocking, and found herself _tête-à-tête_ with the
+musician; a young, fair girl, delicately formed, with beautiful hands
+and arms, and pleasing, pretty face. As she saw the visitor, her song
+ceased. Meeta smiled on her, and extending her hand, said: "You are
+Sophie--Ernest's Sophie?"
+
+"And you," said the fair girl, with wondering eyes, "are--"
+
+"Meeta."
+
+This was an introduction which admitted no formality, and when Mrs.
+Schwartz entered half an hour later, she was surprised to find those so
+lately strangers conversing in the low and earnest tones which betoken
+confidence, while the lofty expression on the countenance of the one,
+and the moist eyes and flushed cheeks of the other, showed that their
+topic was one of no ordinary interest.
+
+Six months passed rapidly away, and then Ernest felt that he might,
+without disrespect to his father's memory, bring home his bride. Their
+engagement had been known for some time, and had excited no little
+surprise; though perhaps less than the continued and close friendship
+between them and Meeta. Many improvements in Sophie's future home had
+been suggested by Meeta's taste, and Ernest had acquired such a habit of
+consulting her, that no day passed without an interview between them. At
+length the evening preceding the bridal-day had arrived, and Ernest and
+Sophie had gone to secure Meeta's promise to officiate as bridesmaid in
+the simple ceremony of the morrow. They were to be married at the
+parsonage, in the presence of a few witnesses only, and were immediately
+to set out on an excursion which would occupy several weeks. They had
+urged Meeta to accompany them, but she had declined. "But she cannot
+refuse to stand up with me--do you think she can?" said Sophie to her
+sister, as she prepared to accompany Ernest to Carl Werner's.
+
+"I do not think she _will_ refuse," Mrs. Schwartz replied.
+
+"You do not think she will!" repeated Mr. Schwartz, in an accent of
+surprise, to his wife, when Ernest and Sophie had left them. "How does
+that consist with your idea of Meeta's love for Ernest?"
+
+"It perfectly consists with a love like Meeta's; a love without any
+alloy of selfishness. Dear Meeta! how little is her nobleness
+appreciated! Even I dare not let her see that she is understood by me,
+lest I should wound her delicate and generous nature."
+
+There was a pause, and then Mr. Schwartz said, hesitatingly, "If it be
+as you think, Meeta is a noble being; but----"
+
+"If it be!" interrupted Mrs. Schwartz, with warmth. "Can you doubt it?
+Have you not seen the loftier character which her generous purpose has
+impressed upon her whole aspect? the elevation--I had almost said the
+inspiration, which beams from her face when Ernest and Sophia are
+present? Sophie is my sister, and I love her truly; yet I declare to
+you, at such times I have looked from her to Meeta, and wondered at what
+seemed to me Ernest's infatuation."
+
+"Sophie is fair, and delicate, and accomplished, the very
+personification of refinement, natural and acquired, and the antipodes
+of all which Ernest, ere he saw her, had begun to dread in the untaught
+Meeta of his memory. I am not surprised at all at his loving Sophie, but
+I cannot at all understand how the simple and single-hearted Meeta can
+feign so long and so well, as on your supposition she has done."
+
+"Feign! Meeta feign! I never said or thought such a thing. A course of
+action lofty as Meeta's must have its foundation deep in the heart, in
+principles enduring as life itself. Had Meeta's been the commonplace
+feigned satisfaction with Ernest's conduct to which pride might have
+given birth, she would have been fitful in her moods; alternately gay or
+gloomy; generous and kind, or petulant and exacting. The serenity, the
+composure of countenance and manner which distinguish our Meeta, spring
+from a higher, purer source. It is the sweet submission of a chastened,
+loving spirit, which can say to its FATHER in Heaven:--
+
+    'BECAUSE my portion was assign'd,
+    Wholesome and bitter, THOU art kind,
+    And I am blessed to my mind.'"
+
+"A state of feeling to be preferred certainly to the gratification of
+any earthly affection; but I scarcely see how it can accord with Meeta's
+continued love of Ernest."
+
+"That is because you do not separate love from the selfish desires with
+which it is too generally accompanied. Meeta loves Ernest so truly, so
+entirely, that she cannot be said to yield her happiness to his, but
+rather to find it in his; his joy, his honor, are hers."
+
+"And can woman feel thus?" asked Mr. Schwartz, as he looked with
+admiration upon his wife, her cheeks glowing and her eyes lighted with
+the enthusiasm of a spirit akin to Meeta's.
+
+"There are many mysteries in woman which you have yet to fathom," said
+Mrs. Schwartz, with a smile.
+
+To the good pastor and his wife, the next day, even Sophie was a less
+interesting object of contemplation than Meeta, who stood at her side.
+She was pale, very pale, and dressed with even more than usual
+simplicity; yet there was in her face so much of the soul's light, that
+she seemed to them beautiful. Her congratulations were offered in
+speechless emotion. The brotherly kiss which Ernest pressed upon her
+cheek called up no color there, nor disturbed the graceful stillness of
+her manner; and when Sophie, who had really become sincerely attached to
+her, threw herself into her arms, she returned her embrace with
+tenderness, whispering as she did so, "Make Ernest happy, Sophie, and I
+will love you always!"
+
+And now what have we more to tell of Meeta? It cannot be denied that
+there were hours of darkness, in which the joyous hopes and memories of
+her youth rose up vividly before her, making her present life seem sad
+and lonely in contrast. But these visitors from the realm of shadows
+were neither evoked nor welcomed by Meeta. Resolutely she turned from
+the dead past, to the active, living present, determined that no shadow
+from her should darken the declining days of her father and mother. She
+is the light of their home, and often they bless the Providence which
+has left her with them. What would they have done without her cheerful
+voice to inspire them in bearing the burdens of advancing life?
+
+But not only in her home was Meeta a consolation and a blessing. The
+poor, the sick, the sorrowing, knew ever where to find true sympathy and
+ready aid. She was the "Lady Bountiful" of her neighborhood. But there
+was one house where more especially her presence was welcomed; where no
+important step was taken without her advice; where sorrow was best
+soothed by her, and joy but half complete till she had shared it. This
+house was Ernest Rainer's. To him and Sophie she was a cherished sister,
+to whose upright and self-forgetting nature they looked up with a
+species of reverence; and to their children she was "Dear Aunt Meeta!
+the kindest and best friend, except mamma, in the world!"
+
+How many more useful, more noble, or happier persons than our old maid
+can married life present? Is she not more worthy of imitation than the
+"Celias" and "Daphnes" whose delicate distresses have formed the staple
+of circulating libraries, or than those feeble spirits in real life,
+who, mistaking selfishness for sensibility, turn thanklessly from the
+blessings and coldly from the duties of life, because they have been
+denied the gratification of some cherished desire?
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+
+It is Christmas, merry Christmas, as we have been duly informed this
+morning by every inhabitant of Donaldson Manor, from Col. Donaldson to
+the pet and baby Sophy Dudley, who was taught the words but yesterday,
+for the occasion. Last evening our readings were interrupted, for all
+were busy in preparing for this important day. Miss Donaldson was
+superintending jellies and blanc-manges, custards and Charlottes des
+Russes; Col. and Mrs. Donaldson were preparing gifts for their servants,
+not one of whom was forgotten, and Annie and I, and, by his own special
+request, Mr. Arlington, were arranging in proper order the gifts of that
+most considerate, mirthful and generous of spirits, Santa Claus. This
+morning the sun rose as clear and bright as though it, too, rejoiced in
+the joy of humanity; but long before the sun had showed himself, little
+feet were pattering from room to room, and childish voices shouting in
+the unchecked exuberance of delight. I sometimes doubt whether the
+children are so happy as I am, on such occasions. One incident that
+occurred this morning would have been enough, in my opinion, to repay
+all the time, the trouble, and the gold, which Santa Claus, or his
+agents, had expended on their preparations. Aroused by the voices of the
+children, I threw on a dressing-gown and hastened to the room
+appropriated to their patron saint, which I entered at one door just as
+little Eva Dudley appeared at another. Without being in the least a
+beauty, Eva has the most charming face I know; merry and bright as
+Puck's, or as her own life, which from its earliest dawn has been joyous
+as a bird's carol. She gazed now with eager delight on the toys
+exhibited by her brothers and sisters, without, apparently, one thought
+of herself, till Robert said, "But see here, Eva, look at your own."
+
+As her eyes rested on the large baby-house, with its folding-doors open
+to display the furniture of the parlors, and the two dolls, mother and
+daughter, seated at a table on which stood a neat china breakfasting
+set, she clasped her dimpled hands in silent ecstasy for half a minute,
+then rising to her utmost height on her rosy little toes, she exclaimed,
+"Oh, isn't I a happy little woman!"
+
+Dear Eva! a little _girl's_ heart would not have seemed to her large
+enough to contain such a rapture.
+
+Our party has been augmented since breakfast by the arrival of several
+families of Donaldsons--some of whom live at too great a distance for
+visits at any other time than Christmas, when all who stand in any
+conceivable, or I was about to say inconceivable, degree of relationship
+to the Donaldsons of Donaldson Manor, are expected to be here. Among
+this host of uncles and aunts and cousins, I was really grateful for my
+own prefix of aunt, and I heard Mr. Arlington whisper a request to
+Robert to call him uncle--a title to which I have no doubt he would
+willingly make good his claim.
+
+In the midst of this general hilarity, the religious character of the
+day was not forgotten, and all the family and some of the visitors
+attended the morning services in the church. We know that there are
+those who, doubting the testimony on which the Christian world has
+agreed to observe the 25th of December as the birthday into our mortal
+life of the world's Saviour, and the era from which man may date his
+hopes of a happy immortality, consider the religious observances of this
+day a sheer superstition. On such a controversy I could say but little,
+and I should be very unwilling so say that little here; but I would ask
+if it can be wrong in the opinion of any--nay, if it be not right, very
+right, in the opinion of all--to celebrate once in the year an event so
+solemn and so joyous to our race; and whether any day can be better for
+such a purpose, than that which has been for centuries associated with
+it wherever the Angel's song of "Peace on earth and good will to man"
+has been heard? Another class of objectors there are who complain that a
+day so sacred should be desecrated, as they express it, by revelry and
+mirth. To their objection I should not have a word of reply, if it were
+limited to a condemnation of that wild uproar and senseless jollity by
+which men sometimes make fools or brutes of themselves; but when they
+condemn the cheerfulness that has its home and its birthplace in a
+grateful heart, when they frown upon the happy family gathering once
+more within the old walls that had echoed to their childish gambols,
+calling up by the spells of association, from the dim recesses of the
+past, the very tones and looks of the mother that watched their cradled
+sleep, and the father that guided their first tottering steps in the
+pursuit of truth; tones and looks by which, if by any thing, the cold,
+selfish spirit of the world to whose dominion they have yielded, may be
+exorcised, and the loving and generous spirit of their earlier life may
+again enter within them; when they declare these things inconsistent
+with the Christian's joyful commemoration of that event to which he owes
+his earthly blessings as well as his heavenly hopes. I can only pity
+them for their want of harmony with the Great Spirit of the Universe,
+the spirit of Love and Joy.
+
+Our Christmas was continued and concluded in the same spirit in which it
+was commenced--the spirit of kindly affection to Man and devout
+gratitude to Heaven. Those guests whose homes were distant remained for
+the night, and in the evening, before any of our party had left us,
+Col. Donaldson called on Robert Dudley to repeat a poem winch he had
+learned at his request for the occasion. Robert was a little abashed at
+first at being brought forward so conspicuously; but he is a manly,
+intelligent boy, and his voice soon gathered strength and firmness, and
+his eyes lost their downward tendency, and kindled with earnest feeling,
+as he recited those beautiful lines of Charles Sprague, entitled--
+
+
+THE FAMILY MEETING.
+
+          We are all here!
+          Father, mother,
+          Sister, brother,
+    All who hold each other dear.
+    Each chair is fill'd, we're all at home,
+    To-night let no cold stranger come;
+    It is not often thus around
+    Our own familiar hearth we're found.
+    Bless, then, the meeting and the spot;
+    For once be every care forgot;
+    Let gentle Peace assert her power,
+    And kind affection rule the hour;
+          We're all--all here.
+
+          We're NOT all here!
+    Some are away--the dead ones dear,
+    Who throng'd with us this ancient hearth,
+    And gave the hour to guiltless mirth.
+    Fate, with a stern, relentless hand,
+    Look'd in and thinn'd our little band:
+    Some like a night-flash pass'd away,
+    And some sank, lingering, day by day;
+    The quiet grave-yard--some lie there--
+    And cruel Ocean has his share--
+          We're _not_ all here.
+
+          We _are_ all here!
+    Even they--the dead--though dead so dear.
+    Fond Memory, to her duty true,
+    Brings back their faded forms to view.
+    How life-like, through the mist of years,
+    Each well-remember'd face appears!
+    We see them as in times long past,
+    From each to each kind looks are cast,
+    We hear their words, their smiles behold,
+    They're round us as they were of old--
+          We _are_ all here.
+
+          We are all here!
+          Father, mother,
+          Sister, brother,
+    You that I love with love so dear.
+    This may not long of us be said,
+    Soon must we join the gather'd dead,
+    And by the hearth we now sit round
+    Some other circle will be found.
+    Oh, then, that wisdom may we know,
+    Which yields a life of peace below!
+    So, in the world to follow this,
+    May each repeat, in words of bliss.
+          We're all--all _here_!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+
+Yesterday we were more than usually still after the enjoyment of
+Christmas, and a little quiet chit-chat seemed all of which we were
+capable, but to-day every thing about us and within us began to settle
+into its usual form, and this evening there was a general call for our
+accustomed entertainment. I was inexorable to all entreaties, and Mr.
+Arlington was compelled to open his portfolio for our gratification.
+
+"Select your subject," he said with a smile, as he drew forth sketch
+after sketch and spread them on the table before us. "I have no story to
+tell of any of them."
+
+"I select this," said Annie, as she held up a drawing, entitled, "The
+Exiled Hebrews."
+
+"Ah!" said Mr. Arlington, as he glanced at it, "you have chosen well;
+the subject is interesting."
+
+"But can you really tell us nothing of these figures, so noble yet so
+touching in their aspect?"
+
+"No; nothing of _them_. I could tell you indeed of a _dying_ Hebrew,
+whose portrait you may imagine you have before you in that turbaned old
+gentleman."
+
+"Well, let us hear it."
+
+
+THE DYING HEBREW.
+
+    A HEBREW knelt in the dying light,
+      His eye was dim and cold,
+    The hair on his brow was silver white,
+      And his blood was thin and old.
+    He lifted his eye to his latest sun,
+    For he felt that his pilgrimage was done,
+    And as he saw God's shadow[3] there,
+    His spirit pour'd itself in prayer.
+    "I come unto Death's second birth
+      Beneath a stranger air,
+    A pilgrim on a chill, cold earth,
+      As all my fathers were;
+    And _men_ have stamp'd me with a _curse_,
+      I feel it is not _Thine_.
+    Thy mercy, like yon sun, was made
+      On me, as all to shine;
+    And therefore dare I lift mine eye
+    Through that to Thee, before I die.
+    In this great temple, built by Thee,
+      Whose altars are divine,
+    Beneath yon lamp that ceaselessly
+      Lights up Thine own true shrine,
+    Take this my latest sacrifice,
+      Look down and make this sod
+    Holy as that where long ago
+      The Hebrew met his God.
+    I have not caused the widow's tears,
+      Nor dimm'd the orphan's eye,
+    I have not stain'd the virgin's years,
+      Nor mock'd the mourner's cry.
+    The songs of Zion in my ear
+      Have ever been most sweet,
+    And always when I felt Thee near,
+      My shoes were 'off my feet.'
+
+    I have known Thee in the whirlwind,
+      I have known Thee on the hill,
+    I have known Thee in the voice of birds,
+      In the music of the rill.
+    I dreamt Thee in the shadow,
+      I saw Thee in the light,
+    I heard Thee in the thunder-peal,
+      And worshipp'd in the night.
+    All beauty, while it spoke of Thee,
+      Still made my heart rejoice,
+    And my spirit bow'd within itself
+      To hear 'Thy still, small voice.'
+    I have not felt myself a thing
+      Far from Thy presence driven,
+    By flaming sword or waving wing
+      Cut off from Thee and heaven.
+    Must I the whirlwind reap, because,
+      My fathers sow'd the storm?
+    Or shrink because another sinn'd,
+      Beneath Thy red, right arm?
+    Oh! much of this we dimly scan,
+      And much is all unknown,
+    I will not take my _curse_ from _man_,
+      I turn to THEE alone.
+    Oh! bid my fainting spirit live,
+      And what is dark, reveal,
+    And what is evil--oh, forgive!
+      And what is broken--heal.
+    And cleanse my spirit from above,
+    In the deep Jordan of Thy love!
+    I know not if the Christian's heaven
+      Shall be the same as mine,
+    I only ask to be forgiven,
+      And taken home to THINE.
+    I weary on a far, dim strand,
+      Whose mansions are as tombs,
+    And long to find the Father-land,
+      Where there are many homes.
+    Oh! grant of all yon shining throngs
+      Some dim and distant star,
+    Where Judah's lost and scatter'd sons
+      May worship from afar!
+    When all earth's myriad harps shall meet
+      In choral praise and prayer,
+    Shall Zion's harp, of old so sweet,
+      Alone be wanting there?
+    Yet place me in the lowest seat,
+      Though I, as now, lie there,
+    The Christian's jest--the Christian's scorn,
+      Still let me see and hear,
+    From some bright mansion in the sky,
+    Thy loved ones and their melody."
+
+    The sun goes down with sudden gleam,
+    And beautiful as a lovely dream,
+      And silently as air,
+    The vision of a dark-eyed girl
+      With long and raven hair,
+    Glides in as guardian spirits glide,
+    And lo! is standing by his side,
+    As if her sudden presence there
+    Was sent in answer to his prayer.
+    Oh! say they not that angels tread
+    Around the good man's dying bed?
+    His child--his sweet and sinless child,
+      And as he gazed on her,
+    He knew his God was reconciled,
+      And this the messenger.
+    As sure as God had hung on high
+    His promise-bow before his eye,
+    Earth's purest hopes were o'er him flung,
+      To point his heaven-ward faith,
+    And life's most holy feelings strung
+      To sing him into death.
+    And on his daughter's stainless breast,
+    The dying Hebrew sought his rest.[4]
+
+"Have I fulfilled my task?" asked Mr. Arlington, as he touched the
+picture on which Annie's eyes were still fixed.
+
+"By no means," she answered; "the poem is beautiful; but is the drawing
+from your own pencil?"
+
+"Oh, no! It is a copy of a copy. The original is by Biederrmanns, and
+may be seen, I believe, in the Dresden Gallery. This sketch was made
+from a copy in the possession of my friend, Mr. Michael Grahame. He had
+it done while he was in Russia. By-the-by--if I had Aunt Nancy's powers
+as a _raconteur_, I think I could interest you in the history of Mr. and
+Mrs. Grahame."
+
+"Let us have it," exclaimed Col. Donaldson; "we will be lenient in our
+criticisms; and should we ever call on you to give it to severer
+critics, Aunt Nancy will dress it up for you."
+
+Mr. Arlington in vain sought to excuse himself.
+
+"It is of no use," cried Col. Donaldson; "I am a thoroughbred story
+hunter, and now you have shown me the game, I must have it."
+
+To Mr. Arlington, therefore, the reader is indebted for the following
+incidents, though I have fulfilled the promise made for me by the
+Colonel, and dressed it up a little for its present appearance. I have
+called the narrative thus prepared,
+
+
+"ONLY A MECHANIC."
+
+With beauty, wealth, an accomplished education, and a home around which
+clustered all the warm affections and graceful amenities of life, Lilian
+Devoe was considered by her acquaintances as one of fortune's most
+favored children. Yet in Lilian's bright sky there was a cloud, though
+it was perceptible to none but herself. She was the daughter of an
+Englishman, who, on his arrival in America with a sickly wife and infant
+child, had esteemed himself fortunate in obtaining the situation of
+farm-steward, or bailiff, at Mr. Trevanion's country-seat, near
+New-York.
+
+"This is a pleasant home, Gerald," said Mrs. Devoe, on the day she took
+possession of her small but neat cottage, as she stood with him beneath
+a porch embowered with honey-suckle, and looked out upon a scene to
+which hill and dale and river combined to give enchantment.
+
+"If you can be well and happy in it, love, I will try and forget that I
+had a right to a better," said Gerald Devoe, with a grave yet tender
+smile, as he drew his invalid wife close to his side.
+
+Grave, Gerald Devoe always was; and none wondered at it who knew his
+early history. His family belonged to the gentry of England, and he had
+been born to an inheritance sufficient to support him respectably in
+that class. His mother, from whom he derived a sound judgment, and a
+firm and vigorous mind, died while he was yet a child, leaving his weak
+and self-indulgent father to the management of a roguish attorney, by
+whose aid he made the future maintain the present, till, at his death,
+little was left to Gerald beyond the bare walls of his paternal home and
+the small park by which it was surrounded. He had been, for two years
+before this time, married to one who had brought him little wealth, and
+whose delicate health seemed to demand the luxuries which he could no
+longer afford. For her sake, far more than for his own--even more than
+for that of his cherished child--he shrank from the new condition under
+which life was presenting itself to him. When at length his resources
+utterly failed, and he could no longer veil the truth from his wife, her
+gentle tender smile, her confiding caress, and above all, her ready
+inquiry into his plans for the future, and her earnest effort to aid him
+in bringing the chaos of his mind into order, taught him that there lies
+in woman's affections a source of strength equal to all the requirements
+of those who have won their way to that hidden fountain. It was by her
+advice that, instead of wasting his energies in the vain struggle to
+maintain his present position, he determined to carve out for himself a
+new life in another land. The first step towards the fulfilment of this
+resolution was also the most painful. It was the sacrifice of his home,
+the home of his childhood, his youth, his manhood, with which all that
+was dear in the present or tender in the past was associated. And yet
+higher claims it had. It had been the home of his fathers. For three
+hundred years those walls had owned a Devoe for their master, and now
+they must pass into a stranger's hands, and he and his must go forth
+with no right even to a grave in that soil which had seemed ever an
+inalienable part of himself. It was a stern lesson, but life teaches
+well, and it was learned. He could not turn to the liberal professions
+for support, because he had no means of maintaining himself and his
+family during the preparatory studies. Of farming he knew already
+something, and spent some months in acquiring yet further information
+respecting it, before he sailed from England. The determination and
+energy with which Gerald Devoe had entered on his new career, had won
+for him friends among practical men, and when he left England it was
+with recommendations that insured his success.
+
+It was a fortunate circumstance for Mr. and Mrs. Devoe that Mr.
+Trevanion required a farm-steward on their arrival, for in him and his
+wife they found liberal employers, and persons of true Christian
+benevolence, who, having discovered the superiority of their minds and
+manners to their present station, hesitated not to receive them into
+their circle of friends, when a knowledge of their past history had
+acquainted them with their claims on their sympathy. Howsoever valuable
+the friendship of persons at once so accomplished and so excellent was
+to Mr. and Mrs. Devoe, for their own sakes, they prized it yet more for
+their Lilian's. She was their only child, and their poverty lost its
+last sting when they saw her linked arm in arm with young Anna
+Trevanion, the companion of her lessons and her sports. They could not
+have borne to see her, so lovely in outward form, and with a mind so
+full of intelligence, condemned either to the dreariness of a life
+without companionship, or to the degradation of association with the
+rude and uncultivated. That this feeling was wholly unconnected with any
+false views of their own position, or vain estimation of the claims
+derived from their birth and former condition, was evident from their
+readiness to receive into their friendly regards those in their present
+sphere in whose moral qualities they could confide, and who did not
+repel their courtesies by a rude and coarse manner. There was one of
+this latter class who held a place in their esteem not less exalted than
+that occupied by Mr. Trevanion himself. This was a Scotchman, living
+within two miles of Mr. Trevanion's seat, who found at once an agreeable
+occupation and a respectable support in a garden, from which he supplied
+the markets of New-York with some of their choicest vegetables, and its
+drawing-rooms with some of their choicest bouquets. Mr. Grahame was one
+who, in those early ages when physical endowments constituted the chief
+distinction between men, might have been chosen king of the tribe with
+which he had chanced to be associated. Even now, in this self-styled
+enlightened age, his tall and stalwart frame, his erect carriage, his
+firm and vigorous step, his broad, commanding brow, his bright, keen
+eye, and the firm, frank expression of his whole face, won from every
+beholder an involuntary feeling of respect, which further acquaintance
+only served to deepen. With little of the education of schools, he was a
+man of reading, and, what schools can never make, he was a man of
+thought, and of that sober, practical good sense, and those firm,
+religious principles which are the surest, the only true and safe guides
+in life. Mrs. Grahame was a gentle and lovely woman, with an eye to see
+and a heart to feel her husband's excellences. And a worthy son of such
+a father was Michael Grahame, the only child of this excellent pair. He
+was six years older than Lilian Devoe, and having no sister of his own,
+had been her playfellow and protector from her cradle. Even Anna
+Trevanion could not rival Michael in Lilian's heart, nor all the
+luxuries of Trevanion Hall compete with the delight of wandering with
+him through the gardens of Mossgiel, listening to his history of the
+various plants--for Michael had learned from his father where most of
+them had first been found, and how and by whom they had been introduced
+to their present abodes--and learning from him the chief points of
+distinction between the different tribes of the vegetable world, and
+many other things of which older people are often ignorant. But
+acquainted as Michael was with the inhabitants of the garden, they did
+not afford him his most vivid enjoyment. Mechanical pursuits were his
+passion.
+
+Before Lilian was four years old, she had ridden in a carriage of his
+construction, which he boasted the most unskilful hand on the most
+unequal road could not, except from _malice prepense_, upset. To see
+Michael a clergyman, or, if that might not be, a lawyer, was Mrs.
+Grahame's dream of life; but when she whispered it to her husband, he
+shook his head, with a grave smile, and pointed to the boy, who stood
+near, putting the finishing touch to what he called his "magical glass."
+This was the case of an old spy-glass, in which he had so disposed
+several mirrors, made of a toilet-glass long since broken, as to enable
+the person using the instrument to see objects in a very different
+direction from that to which it appeared to be directed. The fond
+parents watched his movements in silence for a few minutes: suddenly he
+called in a glad voice, "Here, father, come and look through my magical
+glass."
+
+Mr. Grahame obeyed the summons, saying to his wife, "He'll make a good
+mechanic--better not spoil that, for a poor clergyman or lawyer."
+
+Michael had the advantage of the best schools to which his father could
+gain access; and his teachers joined in declaring that his father might
+make what he would of him, but his own inclination for mechanics
+continued as fixed as ever, and Mr. Grahame was equally fixed in his
+determination to let his inclination decide his career.
+
+"Let him be what he will, he must be something above the ordinary, or
+your high people will remember against him that his father was a
+gardener," said Mr. Grahame to his wife; "and you may be sure he'll rise
+highest in what he loves."
+
+At sixteen Michael Grahame commenced his apprenticeship to the trade of
+a mathematical instrument maker, to the perfect satisfaction of himself
+and his father, the secret annoyance of his mother, and the openly
+expressed chagrin of Lilian Devoe, who had shared all Mrs. Grahame's
+ambitious hopes for her friend. From this period Lilian became the
+inseparable companion of the young Trevanions, their only rival in her
+heart being removed from her circle. She still considered Michael as
+greatly superior to them, and indeed to all others, in personal
+attributes, but she could seldom enjoy his society, since he resided in
+the city; and as she approached to womanhood, and he exchanged the
+vivacity of the boy for the man's thoughtful brow and more controlled
+expression of feeling, their manner in their occasional interviews
+assumed a formality which made it a poor interpreter of her heart's true
+emotions.
+
+At seventeen Lilian Devoe was an orphan, left to the guardianship of Mr.
+Trevanion and Mr. Grahame, with a fortune which secured to her a
+prospect of all the comforts, and many of the elegancies of life. This
+fortune was the result of a successful speculation made by Mr. Devoe
+about a year before his death, with the little sum, which, by judicious
+management, he had saved from his salary during many years. It was a sum
+too small to secure to his daughter a maintenance in case of his death,
+and with a trembling and almost despairing heart he had thrown it on the
+troubled sea of speculation. From that hour he knew no peace. His life
+was probably shortened by his anxieties, and when he received the
+assurance of the successful issue of his experiment, he had but a few
+days to live. Before his death, Mr. Trevanion had spoken very kindly to
+him, and both he and Mrs. Trevanion had expressed the most friendly
+interest in Lilian, and had offered to receive her as a member of their
+own family, when her "home should be left unto her desolate." Mr.
+Grahame and his kind-hearted wife had already made the same offer, and
+Mr. Devoe, with the warmest expression of gratitude, commended his
+daughter to the guardianship of both his friends. It was winter when Mr.
+Devoe died--the Trevanions were in the city, and, by her own wish,
+Lilian passed the first few months of her orphanage at the cottage of
+Mr. Grahame. Never was an orphan more tenderly received, more dearly
+cherished.
+
+Michael Grahame had now acquired his trade, and had entered into an
+already established and profitable business with his former master, who
+predicted that with his application, and his unusual talent and his
+delight both in the theory of mechanics and the actual development of
+that theory in practice, he must one day acquire a high reputation.
+Perhaps this opinion might have been in some degree shaken by the long
+and frequent holidays of his young partner during this winter. Michael
+had never been so much at home since he left it, a boy of sixteen, and
+before the winter had passed, all formality between him and Lilian had
+vanished. Again they wandered together, as in childhood, through the
+garden walks; again Lilian learned to regard him, not only as a loved
+friend, but as a guide and protector.
+
+Mrs. Grahame saw the growth of these feelings with delight. She loved
+Lilian, and gave the highest proof of her esteem for her, in believing
+her worthy of her son. Mr. Grahame was less satisfied. He, too, loved
+Lilian, and would have welcomed her to his heart as a daughter, but her
+lately acquired fortune, and her connection with the Trevanion family,
+gave her a right to higher expectations in marriage, than to become the
+wife of a mechanic of very moderate fortunes, howsoever great was his
+ability, or howsoever distinguished his personal qualities. No--Mr.
+Grahame was not satisfied, and nothing but his confidence in Michael
+kept him silent. The confidence was not misplaced.
+
+The news of Lilian's fortune, and of Mr. and Mrs. Trevanion's offer to
+receive her into their family, had sent a sharp pang through the heart
+of Michael Grahame, which had taught him the true character of his
+attachment to her.
+
+"She is removed from my world--she can be nothing to me now," was the
+first stern whisper of his heart, which was modified after two or three
+interviews into--"She can only be a dear friend and sister. I must never
+think of her in any other light." And, devoted as he had been to her
+through the winter, no word, no look had told of love less calm or more
+exacting than this. But there came a time when the quick blush on
+Lilian's cheek at his approach, the tremor of her little hand as he
+clasped it, told that she shared his feeling, without his power of
+self-control. Then came the hour of trial to Michael Grahame's nature.
+Self-immolation were easy in comparison with the infliction of one pang
+on her. And wherefore should either suffer? Was it not a false sentiment
+that denied to her the right to decide for herself, between those shows
+and fashions which the world most prizes, and the indulgence of the
+purest and sweetest affections of our nature? Was he not in truth
+sacrificing her happiness to his own pride? It was a question which he
+dared not answer for himself, and he applied to his father, in whose
+high principles and clear judgment he placed implicit confidence. Mr.
+Grahame was too shrewd, and in this case too interested an observer to
+be unprepared for his son's avowal of his past feelings and present
+perplexities.
+
+"You are right, my son," he replied to his appeal; "It is Lilian's right
+to decide for herself on that which will constitute her own happiness."
+
+"Then I may speak to her--I may tell her--"
+
+"All you desire that she should know," said Mr. Grahame, gently, "when
+Lilian has had an opportunity of knowing what she must sacrifice in
+accepting you."
+
+"True--true--I will ask no promise from her--nay--I will accept none--I
+will only assure her that should the world fail to fill her heart, the
+truest and most devoted love awaits her here."
+
+"And in listening to that assurance, without rebuking it, a delicate
+woman would feel that she had pledged herself."
+
+Michael Grahame's brow contracted, and his voice faltered slightly as,
+after a moment's thoughtful pause, he asked, "What then would you have
+me do?"
+
+"Nothing at present--Lilian will soon leave us, and at Mr. Trevanion's
+she will see quite another kind of life--a life which, with her fortune
+and their friendship, may be hers, but which she must give up should she
+become the wife of a mechanic and the daughter-in-law of a gardener. Let
+her see this life, my boy, and then let her choose between you and it."
+
+"And how can I hope that she will continue to regard me with kindness if
+I suffer her to depart without any expression of interest in her?"
+
+"Any expression of interest! I do not wish you to be colder to her than
+you have hitherto been, and I am much mistaken if Lilian would exchange
+your _brotherly_ affection for all the gewgaws in life."
+
+"I will endeavor to take your advice, but I hope I shall not be tried
+too long," were the concluding words of Michael Grahame, as he turned
+from his father to seek composure in a solitary walk. When he had
+returned, he found that his father had gone to the city--an unusual
+circumstance at that season, and one which he could not afterwards avoid
+connecting with a letter which Lilian received the next day from Anna
+Trevanion, before she had risen from the breakfast table.
+
+"Papa," wrote Miss Trevanion, "has made me perfectly happy, dear Lilian,
+by declaring that he cannot consent to leave you longer in the country.
+I hope you will not find it very difficult to obey his commands in the
+present instance, which are, that you shall be ready at noon to-morrow
+to accompany him to the city, where you will find Mamma and your Anna,
+waiting to receive you with open arms."
+
+"What is the matter, Lilian? Does your letter bring you bad news?" asked
+Mrs. Grahame, as she saw the dejected countenance with which Lilian sat
+gazing on these few lines.
+
+Michael said nothing, but, as Lilian looked up to answer Mrs. Grahame,
+she saw that his eyes were fixed upon her, and the blood rushed to her
+temples, while she said, "It is only a note from Anna Trevanion, to say
+that her father is coming for me to-day at noon,--and--and--" Lilian
+could go no farther--her voice faltered, and she burst into tears.
+Michael Grahame started from his chair, but a movement of his father's
+arm prevented his approaching Lilian, and unable to endure the scene, he
+rushed from the room, while his mother, folding the weeping girl in her
+arms, exclaimed, "Don't cry, Lilian, Mr. Trevanion will not certainly
+make you go with him, if you do not wish it."
+
+"Hush, hush, good wife," said the kind but firm voice of Mr. Grahame;
+"Lilian must not be so ungracious to such friends as Mr. and Mrs.
+Trevanion, as to refuse to go to them when they wish her. Go, my dear
+child," he continued, laying his hand on her bent head; "and remember
+that no day will be so happy for us as that in which you come back--if
+indeed," he added, more gayly, "you can come back to such an humble
+home, after living among great folks."
+
+There was another voice for which Lilian listened, but she listened in
+vain. Her first feeling on perceiving that Michael Grahame had left the
+room while she lay weeping in his mother's arms was very bitter, but
+Mrs. Grahame soothed her by saying, "Michael couldn't bear to see you
+crying, dear, so when his father wouldn't let him speak to you, he
+jumped up and ran off. Poor Michael! sadly enough he'll miss you."
+
+In about an hour, Michael again sought Lilian, bringing with him three
+bouquets of hot-house flowers. Two of these had been arranged by his
+father for Mrs. and Miss Trevanion, and the other was of flowers which
+he had himself selected for Lilian. She stood beside him while he first
+wrapped the stems of the flowers in a wet sponge, and then put them into
+a box, to defend them from the cold. This was done, and the box handed
+to Lilian without a word. As she took it, she asked in a low tone, and
+turning away to hide her embarrassment as she spoke, "When shall I see
+you in New-York?"
+
+"I shall be in New-York very soon," he replied; "perhaps to-morrow--but
+we move there in such different spheres, Lilian, that I do not know when
+we shall meet."
+
+"Perhaps never," said Lilian, endeavoring, not very successfully, to
+steady her voice and speak with _nonchalance_, "unless you are willing
+to leave what you call your sphere and seek me in mine."
+
+"I only need your permission to do so with delight,"--and so charming
+had her evident emotion made her in his eyes, that Michael could not
+refrain from pressing her hand to his lips. There was no anger in the
+flush which this action brought to Lilian's cheek.
+
+Mr. Trevanion was punctual to the hour of his appointment, and descended
+from his carriage only to hand Lilian into it.
+
+"You will call sometimes to see how your ward does," he said
+good-humoredly to the elder Mr. Grahame, but to Michael not a word. He
+had determined to discourage, and, if possible, completely to overthrow
+any intimacy which Mr. Grahame had acknowledged to him was not
+unattended with danger. Mr. Trevanion was a man of liberal mind, yet he
+was not wholly free from the prejudices of his class, which made the
+highest happiness the result of the highest social position. There is in
+the mind of man so unconquerable a desire for the unattainable, that it
+is not wonderful perhaps that this opinion should be entertained by
+those who do not occupy that position; but to those who do, we should
+suppose its fallacy would stand out too glaringly to be doubted or
+denied. We are far from denying the advantages of rank and wealth: but
+we view them not as an end, but as a means for the attainment of an end,
+and that end, not happiness, except as happiness is indissolubly
+connected with the perfection of our own powers, and with the extension
+of our usefulness to others. He who, like Michael Grahame, can command
+the means of intellectual cultivation and refinement, and a fair arena
+for the exercise of his powers, when thus cultivated, need not envy the
+possessor of larger fortune and higher station with his weightier
+responsibilities and greater temptations.
+
+Michael Grahame understood Mr. Trevanion's coolness, but he was not one
+to retreat from an unfought field. Three days had scarcely given to
+Lilian the feeling of ease in her new home, when he called on her. He
+had chosen morning, as the hour when others would be the least likely to
+dispute her attention with him. She was at home--Mrs. and Miss Trevanion
+were out--and a long _tête-à-tête_ almost reconciled him to her new
+abode. He had not forgotten his father's advice, nor taken the seal
+from his lips. He might not speak to her of love, but the nicest honor
+did not forbid him to show her the true sympathy and affection of a
+friend. In a few days he called again, and at the same hour; Miss Devoe
+was not at home, she had gone out with Mrs. and Miss Trevanion. Again
+the next day he came at the same hour, and the answer was the same. He
+called in the afternoon at five o'clock, and she was at dinner; at seven
+o'clock, she was preparing for an evening party, and begged he would
+excuse her. "I will seek no more," said Michael Grahame at length, with
+proud determination, "to enter the charmed circle which shuts her from
+me in the city. They cannot keep her to themselves always, and if
+Lilian's heart be what I deem it, it will take more than a few months of
+absence to efface from it the memories of years."
+
+A few days only after this determination, Lilian was called down at nine
+o'clock in the morning, to see Mr. Grahame. Early as it was, the furtive
+glance towards her mirror and the hasty adjustment of her ringlets,
+might have suggested to an observer, that she hoped to receive in her
+visitor one who had an eye for beauty; and the sudden change that passed
+over her countenance as she entered the parlor in which her two
+guardians sat in earnest talk, would have awakened strong suspicions
+that she did not see _the Mr. Grahame_ whom she had expected. Mr.
+Trevanion rose as she entered, and shaking hands with Mr. Grahame, said
+kindly, "I leave you with Lilian, Mr. Grahame, but I hope to see you
+again at dinner--we dine at five."
+
+"Thank you, sir, but I hope to be taking tea with my good woman at home
+at that hour."
+
+"Well, I shall hope to see you again soon--you must call often and see
+your friend Lilian."
+
+"Why, I've been thinking, sir, that that would hardly be best for any of
+us--and to tell the truth, I came to-day to talk with Lilian about that
+very thing, and if you please, I have no objection that you should hear
+what I have to say."
+
+Mr. Trevanion seated himself again, and Lilian placing herself on the
+sofa beside him, Mr. Grahame resumed:--"It seems to me, sir, that Lilian
+has to choose between two kinds of life, which, should she try to put
+them together will only spoil one another, and I want her to have a fair
+chance to judge between them. Now, you know, sir, I speak the truth when
+I say that there are many among the fine gay people whom Lilian will
+meet at your house, who would look down upon her for having such friends
+as I and my wife, or even my son, though President B---- says he will be
+a distinguished man yet."
+
+"I do not care for such people, or for what they think," exclaimed
+Lilian indignantly.
+
+"I dare say not, my dear child, and yet they are people who are thought
+a great deal of, and whom, if you are to live amongst them, it would be
+worth your while to please--but that isn't my main point, Lilian. What I
+want to say, though I seem to be long coming at it, is, that I want you
+to see this gay life that fine folks in the city lead, at its
+best--without any such drawbacks as it would have for you, if you were
+suspected of having ungenteel acquaintances, and so we shall none of us
+come to see you--barring you should be sick, or something else happen to
+make you want us--until you make a fair trial, for six months at least,
+of this life--then should the beautiful, rich Miss Devoe like the old
+gardener and his family well enough to come and see them, she will learn
+how fondly and truly they love their Lilian."
+
+"I had hoped you loved her too well to give her up so needlessly for six
+months, or even for one month," said Lilian, tears rushing to her eyes.
+
+"Ask Mr. Trevanion if I am not right in what I have said, my dear
+child," said Mr. Grahame tenderly.
+
+"I will not dispute the correctness of your principles in the main, Mr.
+Grahame, but I hope you do not think that all Lilian's _fine_
+acquaintances as you call them, would be so unjust in their judgment as
+to think the less of her for her love of you, or to undervalue you on
+account of your position in life."
+
+"No sir--no sir--I don't think so of all--but I want Lilian to see this
+life without even one little cloud upon it--such a cloud as the being
+looked down upon, though it were by people she didn't greatly admire,
+would make. We have our pride too, sir, and we want Lilian to try for
+herself whether our friendship, with all its good and its bad, be worth
+keeping. She is too good and affectionate, we know, to shake off old
+friends that love her, even if they become troublesome--but we will draw
+ourselves off, and then she will be free to come back to us or not, as
+she pleases. Now, sir, tell me frankly, if you think me wrong."
+
+"Not wrong in principle, as I said before, Mr. Grahame, but--excuse
+me--you required me to be frank--would it not have been better to have
+made this withdrawal gradually and quietly, in such a manner that Lilian
+would not have noticed it, instead of giving her the pain of this abrupt
+severance of the ties between you?"
+
+"A great deal better, sir," said Mr. Grahame, coloring with wonderful
+feeling, and fixing his clear, keen eye full on Mr. Trevanion,--"a great
+deal better if I wished to sever those ties--a great deal better if I
+would have Lilian believe that we had grown cold and indifferent to her.
+But, my dear child," and he turned to her, and taking both her hands,
+spoke very earnestly--"believe me, when I tell you, that you will find
+few among those who see you every day, that love you so warmly as the
+friends who have loved you from your birth, and who now stand away from
+you only because they will not be in the way of what the world considers
+higher fortunes for you if you desire them. To leave you free to choose
+for yourself, is the strongest proof of love we could give you, and I
+repeat, when you have tried all that this new life has to give
+you--tried it for six months--if your heart still turns with its old
+love to those early friends, you will give them joy indeed."
+
+Mr. Grahame paused, but neither Mr. Trevanion nor Lilian attempted to
+reply to him for some minutes--at length she raised her eyes, and said,
+
+"You did not think of this when I left you--what has changed your
+mind--I will not say your _heart_--towards me?"
+
+"You are right not to say our hearts, Lilian; but, indeed, even my mind
+has not been changed--I thought then as I think now--but I could not
+persuade others of our family to think with me. Now, however, they all
+feel that they cannot keep up their old friendly intercourse with you
+without mortification to themselves, and pain to you. And, as I said
+before, we were none of us willing to withdraw from that intercourse
+without giving you our reasons for it, lest you should think we had
+grown indifferent to you."
+
+Mr. Grahame soon departed, leaving Lilian saddened and Mr. Trevanion
+perplexed by his visit. "Singular old man!" this gentleman exclaimed to
+himself more than once, in reflecting on all that Mr. Grahame had said;
+so difficult is it for those whose minds have been forced into the
+strait forms of conventionalism to comprehend the dictates of
+untrammelled common sense, on points which that conventionalism
+undertakes to control. One thing at least Mr. Trevanion did
+comprehend--that on the succeeding six months depended Lilian's choice
+of her position and associates for life.
+
+"So far Mr. Grahame is right Lilian," he said to her, "you cannot have a
+place at once in two such different spheres as his and ours. I always
+knew that to be impossible."
+
+"You called my father friend," said Lilian, with unusual boldness.
+
+"Your father was a gentleman by birth and breeding."
+
+"And he has told me," persisted Lilian, "that he has never known more
+true refinement and even nobility of mind than in Mr. Grahame."
+
+"I agree with him--of _mind_, mark--but there is a want of conventional
+refinement which would make itself felt in society."
+
+"There is no want even of this in his son," said Lilian with a trembling
+voice, and turning away to hide the blush that burned upon her cheek.
+
+"Probably not, for Michael Grahame has been for years at the best
+schools, with the sons of our first families--but we cannot separate him
+from his father, and from the associates which his trade has given him."
+
+Neither Mr. Trevanion nor Lilian ever spoke on this subject again; but
+the former resolved that no effort should be lost on his part to restore
+one so beautiful and so accomplished as his young ward to what he
+considered her true place in society, and the latter was as firmly
+determined that nothing should make her forgetful of the friends of her
+childhood. In furtherance of this resolve, Mr. Trevanion, instead of
+retiring to his country-seat with his family on the approach of summer,
+sent his younger children thither under the care of their faithful and
+intelligent nurse; and with Mrs. and Miss Trevanion, and Lilian, set out
+for Saratoga, at that season the great focus of fashion. Mrs. Trevanion,
+entering fully into his designs, had attended to Lilian's equipments for
+this important campaign, with no less care than to Anna's, and the
+result equalled their fondest expectations. Lilian was _the beauty_,
+_the heiress_, the belle of the season. Report exaggerated her fortune,
+appended all sorts of romantic incidents to her history and her
+connection with the Trevanions, and thus increased the interest which
+her own beauty and modest elegance was calculated to awaken. Admirers
+crowded around her, and to render her triumph complete, one who had
+hitherto found no charms in America worthy his homage, bowed at her
+shrine. This was Mr. Derwent, an Englishman of high birth and large
+fortune, whose elegant exterior, and the perfect _savoir faire_ which
+marked his manners, made him at Saratoga,
+
+                "The observed of all observers,
+    The glass of fashion and the mould of form."
+
+Mr. Trevanion looked on with scarcely concealed delight.
+
+"Why, father! do you wish to see Lilian leave us for England?" cried
+Anna Trevanion, to whom he had expressed his satisfaction.
+
+"Certainly, my daughter, if only in that way I can see her take that
+position which is hers by inheritance, and from which only her father's
+misfortunes have estranged her."
+
+But Mr. Trevanion's hopes of so desirable a termination of his cares for
+Lilian faded, as he saw the reserve with which she met the attentions of
+her admirers--not excepting even the admired Mr. Derwent.
+
+"Among the beauties at this place, Miss L---- D----, the ward of Mr.
+T----, stands unrivalled. She is an heiress as well as a beauty, but the
+report is that both the fortune and the beauty are to be borne to
+another land, in the possession of the Honorable Mr. D----, whose
+personal qualities, united to his station and fortune, render him, in
+the opinion of the ladies at least, irresistible."
+
+Such was the paragraph in a New-York daily paper, which Mr. Trevanion
+one morning handed to Lilian with a smile. She read it silence, and laid
+it down without a comment, except that which was furnished by the proud
+erection of her figure, and the almost scornful curl of her lip.
+
+When next she met Mr. Derwent, Mr. Trevanion's eye was on her, for he
+thought, "She cannot preserve her perfect indifference of manner with
+the consciousness that their names have been thus associated." He was
+mistaken. The color on Lilian's cheek deepened not at Mr. Derwent's
+approach, nor did her hand tremble as she laid it upon the arm he
+offered in attending her to dinner. "Her heart must be already
+occupied," said Mr. Trevanion to himself, and perhaps he was right in
+believing that nothing but a deep and true affection--one which was
+founded on no adventitious circumstances, but on the immovable basis of
+esteem--could have enabled her to resist the blandishments which
+surrounded her in her present position. But she did resist them, and
+still, from the luxurious elegancies, the gay entertainments and the
+flatteries of fashionable life, her heart turned with undiminished
+tenderness to the tranquil shades of Mossgiel, and still paid there its
+willing homage to the loftiest intellect and the noblest heart, in her
+estimation, with which earth was blessed.
+
+September, with its cool, invigorating freshness, had come, when Mr.
+Trevanion's family returned to the city. To Lilian's great, though
+unspoken disappointment, the children met them there, and no thought
+seemed to be entertained of a visit to the country. Carefully she had
+kept the date of Mr. Grahame's conversation, in which he had demanded
+that she should make a six months' trial of life, freed from the
+associations which her early poverty had fastened on her. In a few weeks
+after her return to New-York, the six months were completed. On the day
+preceding its exact completion, Lilian expressed to Mr. Trevanion her
+wish to visit Mossgiel. "It is now six months," she said with a blush
+and a smile, "since I saw Mr. Grahame."
+
+Whatever might have been Mr. Trevanion's wishes for his ward, he had
+neither the right nor the will to control her actions, and he not only
+consented to her going, but went down with her himself to Trevanion
+Hall, where they arrived late in the evening.
+
+Lilian knew that the inhabitants of Mossgiel kept early hours, and the
+gay pink and blue and white convolvuluses, which arched the rude gate
+leading from the more public road into the rural lane by which their
+house was approached, had just unfolded their petals, when she rode
+through it on the morning succeeding her arrival at Trevanion Hall. She
+had declined the attendance of a servant, and set off at a brisk canter,
+but soon reined in her horse and proceeded at a slower pace. Hope and
+fear were busy at her heart. Six months! What changes might not have
+taken place in that time! Again Lilian touched her horse with her light
+riding-whip, and rode briskly on till she reached the gate of which we
+have spoken. Here she alighted to open the gate. As she entered the lane
+she saw, not far in advance of her, a boy who had been hired to assist
+Mr. Grahame in the garden. She called to him, and giving him her bridle
+to lead her horse to the stable, walked on herself towards the house,
+which was little more than a hundred yards distant. After walking a few
+steps, she turned to ask, "Are Mr. and Mrs. Grahame well?"
+
+Another question trembled on her lips--but she could not speak it. "If
+_he_ love me, he will be here," she whispered to herself, and again
+passed on. The road wound around the house, and led to the entrance on
+the river front. There was a side gate leading to the garden, and there,
+at that hour, Lilian knew she would most probably meet the elder Mr.
+Grahame, while his wife was almost certain to be found in the dairy, to
+which the same gate would give her access; but the gate was passed with
+a light, quick step, and Lilian entered the house at the front. With a
+fluttering heart, but a steady purpose, she passed on, without meeting
+any one, or hearing a sound, to the usual morning room. The door was
+open; she entered, and her heart throbbed exultingly, for _he_ was
+there. Michael Grahame sat at a table writing. His back was towards the
+door, and her light step had given no notice of her presence. Agitated
+by a thousand commingled emotions, wishing, yet dreading to meet his
+eye, she stood gazing on his face as it was reflected in an opposite
+mirror. It seemed to her paler and graver than of yore. Manhood had
+stamped its lines more deeply on the brow since last they parted. But
+some movement, a sigh, perhaps, from her, has startled him. He raises
+his head, and in the mirror their eyes meet. In that glance her whole
+soul has been revealed, and with one glad cry of "Lilian! my Lilian!" he
+turns, and she is folded in his arms.
+
+There was no more doubt, no more fear, on her part--no concealment on
+his. She had chosen freely and nobly, and she was rewarded by love as
+deep, as devoted, and as unselfish as ever woman inspired, or man felt.
+
+The marriage of Lilian, which took place in three months after her
+return to Mossgiel, could not but excite some interest in the world in
+which she had so lately occupied a conspicuous place. When, however, to
+the great question--"Who is this Mr. Grahame?" the answer, "Nothing but
+a mechanic," was received--the interest soon faded away, and in the
+winter Lilian found herself in New-York, with scarcely an acquaintance,
+except the Trevanions, and she could easily perceive that something of
+pity was mingled with their former kindness. Yet never had Lilian been
+less an object of pity. Every day increased not only her affection to
+her husband, but her pride in him, by revealing to her more of his high
+powers and noble qualities. Those powers had received a new spring from
+his desire to prove himself worthy of his cherished wife. He had long
+been occupied with a problem whose solution, he believed, would enable
+him to increase greatly both the speed and safety of steam navigation.
+In the early part of the winter succeeding his marriage, with a glad
+spirit, with which Lilian fully sympathized, he cried "Eureka." Before
+the winter concluded he had been to Washington, and explaining to the
+officers of our own government the importance of his invention, sought
+permission to test it on a government vessel. After many delays, with
+that short-sighted policy which cannot look beyond the present expense
+to the overpaying results, the proposition was declined. During his stay
+in Washington, his object had become noised abroad, and the Russian
+Minister had opened a correspondence with him and with his own court on
+the subject. The result of this correspondence was, that in the
+following spring Michael Grahame sailed for Russia, to test his
+invention first in the service of its emperor. He was accompanied by
+Lilian. Their departure and its object were talked of for awhile, but
+soon ceased to be remembered, except by men of science, and those
+immediately interested in the result of his experiment.
+
+In the mean time Anna Trevanion married. Her husband, Mr. Walker, was a
+man of large property, and of social position equal to her own. They
+spent the first two years of their married life abroad. It was in the
+second of these two years, and when Lilian had been four years in St.
+Petersburgh, that Mr. and Mrs. Walker entered that city. One of their
+first inquiries of the American Minister was, "What Americans are here?"
+and at the head of the list he presented, stood Mr. and Mrs. Grahame.
+"And who are Mr. and Mrs. Grahame?" asked Mr. Walker. "You say they are
+from New-York, and I remember no such names of any consequence in
+society there."
+
+"I do not know what their consequence was there, but I assure you it is
+as great here as the partiality of the Emperor, the favor of the
+Imperial family, and their association with the highest rank, can make
+it."
+
+"But how did people unknown at home work themselves into such a
+position?"
+
+"They did not work themselves into it all--they took it at once, by the
+only right which Americans have to any position abroad--the right of
+their own fitness for it. Mr. Grahame, besides his high attainments in
+science, and his skill in mechanics, which first introduced him to the
+Emperor, is a man of fine appearance, of very extensive information, and
+very agreeable manners, and Mrs. Grahame is one of the most beautiful
+and cultivated women I know. I repeat, you cannot enter society here
+under better auspices than theirs."
+
+And thus the long-severed friends met in reversed positions; and if
+something of triumph did flash from Lilian's eyes, as she saw her
+husband, day after day, procuring from the Emperor's favor, privileges
+for Mr. and Mrs. Walker, not often enjoyed by strangers, her triumph was
+for him, and may be excused.
+
+After eight years spent in Russia, during which he had acquired fortune
+as well as fame, Michael Grahame returned to America, with his wife and
+three lovely children, and retired to a beautiful country seat within a
+mile of Mossgiel, purchased and furnished for him during his absence.
+His father still cultivates his garden, though he has ceased to sell its
+produce, and through those flowery walks Lilian and her husband still
+delight to wander, recalling the happy memories with which they are
+linked, with grateful and adoring hearts.
+
+"I shall never object again to any woman in whom I am interested,
+marrying the man of her choice, because he is only a mechanic," said
+Mrs. Trevanion to her husband, as they were returning one day from a
+visit to Mr. and Mrs. Grahame.
+
+"There, my dear, in those words, _only a mechanic_, lies our mistake,
+the world's mistake, in such matters. No man is _only_ what his trade,
+his profession, or his position in life makes him. Every man is
+something besides this, something by force of his own inherent personal
+qualities. By these the true man is formed, and by these he should be
+judged."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+
+Again we were all assembled in the parlor in which so many of our
+cheerful evenings had been spent, but a shadow seemed to have fallen on
+our little circle. The New-Year was now close in its approach, and
+immediately after the commencement of the New-Year we must separate. Mr.
+and Mrs. Dudley, with their children, and Mr. and Mrs. Seagrove, with
+theirs, and Mr. Arlington and I, must all leave within a day or two of
+each other, and a year, with all its chances and changes, will probably
+intervene before we meet again. The very thought, as I have said, threw
+a shadow upon us; but Col. Donaldson, who is a most inveterate foe to
+sadness, would not suffer us to yield unresistingly to its influence. If
+our time was short, the greater the necessity for crowding enjoyment
+into its every moment, he said: we could spare none of it for
+lamentations.
+
+"Now, Aunt Nancy," he continued, "if I am not mistaken, you can match
+Mr. Arlington's story with one quite as romantic, of an extraordinary
+marriage in high life. Do you remember Lady Houstoun and her son Edward
+Houstoun--"
+
+"Oh, yes!" I cried, interrupting him, "and the beautiful Lucy Watson
+too."
+
+"Then I am sure you must have their story somewhere in your bundle of
+romances."
+
+"I believe I have," I replied, as opening my desk I drew out package
+after package, the amusement of many an hour, which but for such a
+resource might have been sad in its loneliness. Some were looking fresh
+and new, and others yellow from age. Among the latter was that for which
+I was searching, and which Annie insists that I shall give to the
+reader, under the title of
+
+
+LOVE AND PRIDE.
+
+A proud and stately dame was Lady Houstoun, as she continued to be
+called after the independence of America had rendered such titles
+valueless in our land. Sir Edward Houstoun was an English baronet, whose
+estates had once been a fit support to his ancient title, but whose
+family had suffered deeply, both in purse and person, by their loyalty
+to Charles the First, and yet more by their obstinate adherence to his
+bigot son, James II. By a marriage with Louisa Vivian, an American
+heiress possessed of broad lands and a large amount of ready money, Sir
+Edward acquired the power of supporting his rank with all the splendor
+that had belonged to his family in the olden time; but circumstances
+connected with the poverty of his early years had given the young
+baronet a disgust to his own circle, which was not alleviated by the
+rapid changes effected by his newly-acquired wealth, and he preferred
+returning to America with his young bride, and adopting her country as
+his own. Here wealth sufficient for their most extravagant desires was
+theirs--houses in New-York, and fertile acres stretching far away from
+the city, now sweeping for many a rood the banks of the fair Hudson, and
+now reaching back into the rich lands that lie east of that river. When
+the separation of this country from England came, the representative of
+her most loyal family, whose motto was "_Dieu et mon Roi_" was found in
+the ranks of republican America. "He could not," he said, "recognize a
+divine right in the House of Hanover to the throne of the Stuarts, or
+justify by any human reason the blind subservience of Americans to the
+ruinous enactments of an English parliament, controlled by a rash and
+headstrong minister and a wayward king." Ten years after the
+proclamation of peace Sir Edward died, leaving one son who had just
+entered his twentieth year.
+
+Young as Edward Houstoun was, he had a man's decision of character; and
+when the question of his assuming his father's title, and claiming the
+estates attached to it in England, was submitted to him, he replied that
+"his proudest title was that of an American citizen, and he would not
+forfeit that title to become a royal duke." He could therefore inherit
+only his father's personal property, consisting principally of plate,
+jewels and paintings. The property thus received was all which the young
+Edward Houstoun could call his own. All else was his mother's, and
+though it would doubtless be his at her death, the Lady Houstoun was not
+one to relinquish the reins of government before that inevitable hour
+should wrest them from her hand. She made her son a very handsome
+allowance, however, and, with a higher degree of generosity than any
+pecuniary grant could evince, she never attempted to control his
+actions, suffering him to enjoy his sports in the country and amusements
+in the city without constraint. The Lady Houstoun was a wise woman, as
+well as an affectionate mother. She saw well that her son's independent
+and proud nature might be attracted by kindness to move whither she
+would, while the very appearance of constraint would drive him in an
+opposite direction. On one subject he greatly tried her forbearance--the
+unbecoming levity, as she esteemed it, with which he regarded the
+big-wigged gentlemen and hooped and farthingaled ladies whose portraits
+ornamented their picture gallery. For only one of these did Edward
+profess the slightest consideration. This was that of the simple
+soldier whose gallantry under William the Conqueror had laid the
+foundation of his family fortunes and honors.
+
+"Dear mother," said he one day, "what proof have we that those other
+fine gentlemen and ladies deserved the wealth and station which, through
+his noble qualities, they obtained?"
+
+"Sir James Houstoun, my son, who devoted life and fortune to his king--"
+
+"Pardon me, noble Sir James," interrupted Edward, bowing low and with
+mock gravity to the portrait, "I will place you and your stern-looking
+son there at your side next in my veneration to our first ancestor. Yet
+you showed that, like me, you had little value for wealth or station."
+
+"Edward!" ejaculated Lady Houstoun, in an accent of displeasure, "that
+we are willing to sacrifice a possession at the call of duty does not
+prove us insensible of its value."
+
+"Nay, mother mine, speak not so gravely, but acknowledge that you would
+be prouder of your boy if you saw him by his own energies winning his
+way to distinction from earth's lowliest station, than you can be of him
+now--idler as he is."
+
+"There is no less merit, Edward, in using aright the gifts which we
+inherit, than in acquiring them. There is as much energy, I can assure
+you, demanded in the proper management of large estates, and the right
+direction of the influence derived from station--ay, often more energy,
+the exercise of higher powers, than those by which a fortunate soldier,
+in time of war, may often spring in a day from nameless poverty to
+wealth and rank."
+
+The Lady Houstoun's still fine figure was elevated to its utmost height
+as she spoke, and her dark eye flashed out from beneath the shadow of
+the deep borders of her widow's cap. A stranger would have gazed on her
+with admiration, but her son turned away with a slight shrug of the
+shoulders and a curling lip, as he said to himself, "My mother may feel
+all this, for she manages the estates, and she bestows the
+influence--while I _amuse myself_. Mother," he added aloud, "they say
+there is fine sport in the neighborhood of the Glen, and I should like
+to see the place. I will take a party thither next week, if you will
+write to your farmer to prepare the house for us."
+
+"I will, Edward, certainly, if you desire it, but it has been so long
+since any of us were there, that I fear you will find the house very
+uncomfortable."
+
+"So much the better, if it give us a little variety in our smooth lives.
+I dare say we shall all like it very much. I shall, at least, and if the
+rest do not, they can return."
+
+The Glen was a wild rural spot among the Highlands, where Sir Edward had
+delighted occasionally to spend a few weeks with his wife and child and
+one or two chosen friends, in the enjoyment of country sports. For
+several years before his father's death, Edward had been too much
+engaged in his collegiate studies to share these visits. During the
+three years which had passed since that event, neither Lady Houstoun nor
+her son had visited the Glen, and it was not without emotion that she
+heard him name his intention of taking a party thither; but she offered
+no opposition to the plan, and in a little more than a week he was
+established in the comfortable dwelling-house there, with Walter Osgood;
+Philip Van Schaick, and Peter Schuyler, companions who were soon
+persuaded to leave the somewhat formal circles of the city for a few
+days of adventure in the country. They had arrived late in the night,
+and wearied by fifteen hours' confinement on board a small sloop, the
+visitors slept late the next morning, while Edward Houstoun, haunted by
+tender memories, was early awake and abroad. Standing in the porch, he
+looked forth through the gray light of the early dawn on hill and dale
+and river, endeavoring to recall the feelings with which he had gazed
+on them seven years before. Then he was a boy of scarcely sixteen,
+eager only for the holiday sport or the distinction of the
+school-room--now, he stood there--a boy still, his heart indignantly
+pronounced, though he had numbered nearly twenty-three years. Edward
+Houstoun was beginning to wake to somewhat of noble scorn in viewing his
+own position--beginning to feel that to amuse himself was an object
+hardly worthy a _man's_ life. Turning forcibly from such thoughts, he
+sprang down the steps, and pursued a path leading by the orchard and
+through a flowery lane, towards the dwelling of the farmer to whom the
+management of the Glen had been intrusted, first by Sir Edward and
+afterwards by Lady Houstoun. The sun was just touching with a sapphire
+tint the few clouds that specked the eastern sky; the branches of the
+wild rose and mountain laurel which skirted the lane on the right were
+heavy with the dews of night, and the birds seemed caroling their
+earliest song in the orchard and clover-field on the left, yet the
+farmer's horses were already harnessed to the wagon, and through the
+open door of the house Edward Houstoun as he approached caught a glimpse
+of Farmer Pye himself and his men seated at breakfast. As he was not
+perceived by them, he passed on, without interrupting them, to the
+dairy, where the good dame was busy with her white pails and bright
+pans. A calico bonnet with a very deep front concealed his approach from
+Mrs. Pye until he stood beside her; but there was one within the dairy
+who saw him, and whose coquettish movement in snatching from her glossy
+brown ringlets a bonnet of the same unbecoming shape with that of Mrs.
+Pye, did not escape his observation.
+
+"Well, now--did I ever see the like! Why, Mr. Edward, you've grown clean
+out of a body's memory--but after all, nobody couldn't help knowing you
+that ever seen your papa, good gentleman--how much you are like him!"
+
+Thus ran on Dame Pye, while Edward, except when compelled by a question
+to attend to her, was wondering who the fair girl could be, who was
+separated from her companion not less by the tasteful arrangement of her
+dress--simple and even coarse as it was in its material--and by a
+certain grace of movement, than by her delicate beauty. Her form was
+slender in proportion to its height, yet gave in its graceful outline
+promise of a development "rich in all woman's loveliness;" and her face,
+with its dark starry eyes, its clear, transparent skin, and rich, waving
+curls of glossy brown, recalled so vividly to Edward Houstoun's memory
+his favorite description of beauty, that he repeated almost audibly:--
+
+    "One shade the more, one ray the less,
+      Had half impair'd the nameless grace
+    That waves in every glossy tress,
+      Or softly lightens o'er her face,
+    Where thoughts serenely sweet express
+      How pure, how dear their dwelling-place."
+
+His admiration, if not audible, was sufficiently evident to its
+object--at least so we interpret her tremulous and uncertain movements,
+the eloquent blood which glowed in her cheeks, and the mistakes which at
+length aroused Mrs. Pye's attention.
+
+"Why, Lucy! what under the sun and earth's the matter with you, child?
+Dear--dear--to go putting the cream into the new milk, instead of
+emptying it into the churn! There--there--child--better go in now--I'll
+finish--and just tell Mr. Pye that Mr. Edward is here," said Mrs. Pye,
+fearful of some new accident.
+
+The discarded bonnet was put on with a heightened color, and the young
+girl moved rapidly yet gracefully toward the house.
+
+"I did not remember you had a daughter, Mrs. Pye," said Edward Houstoun,
+as she disappeared.
+
+"And I haven't a daughter--only the two boys, Sammy and Isaac--good big
+boys they are now, and help their father quite some--but this girl's
+none of mine, though I'm sure I love her 'most as well--she's so pretty
+and nice, and has such handy ways, though what could have tempted her to
+put the cream in the new milk just now, I'm sure I can't tell."
+
+"But who is she, Mrs. Pye?"
+
+"Who is she? Why, sure, and did you never hear of Lucy Watson? Oh!
+here's Mr. Pye."
+
+Edward Houstoun was too much interested in learning something more of
+Lucy Watson, not to find a sufficient reason for lingering behind the
+farmer, who was impatient to be in his hay-field. Mrs. Pye was
+communicative, and he soon learned all she knew--that Lucy was the
+daughter of a soldier belonging to a company commanded by Sir Edward
+Houstoun during the war--that this soldier had received his death-wound
+in defending his commander from a sword-cut, and that Sir Edward had
+always considered his widow and only child as his especial charge. The
+widow had soon followed her husband to the grave, and the child had been
+placed by Sir Edward with the wife of a country clergyman. To Mr. and
+Mrs. Merton, Lucy had been as an own and only daughter.
+
+"The good old people made quite a lady of her," said Mrs. Pye. "She can
+read and write equal to the parson himself, and I've hearn folks say
+that her 'broidery and music playin' was better than Mrs. Merton's own;
+but, poor thing! Mrs. Merton died, and still the parson begged Sir
+Edward to let her stay with him--she was all that was left now, he
+said--so Sir Edward let her stay. Mr. Merton died a year ago, and when
+Mr. Pye wrote to the lady--that's your mother, Mr. Edward--about her,
+she said she'd better come here and stay with us, and she would pay her
+board, and give her money for clothes, and five thousand dollars beside,
+whenever she should get married. I'm sure she's welcome to stay, if it
+was without pay, for we all love her, but, somehow, it don't seem the
+right place for her--and, as to marrying, I don't think she'll ever
+marry any body around her, for, kind-spoken as she is, they wouldn't any
+of them dare to ask her, though they're all in love with her beautiful
+face."
+
+In a week Edward Houstoun's friends had grown weary of ruralizing--they
+found no longer any music in the crack of a fowling-piece, or any
+enjoyment in the dying agonies of the feathered tribes, and, having
+resisted all their persuasions to return with them, he was left alone.
+
+"I shall report you as love-sick, or brain-sick, reclining by purling
+streams, under shady groves, to read Shakspeare, or Milton, or Spenser,
+for each of these books I have seen you at different times put in your
+pocket, and wander forth with a most sentimental air--doubtless to make
+love to some Nymph or Dryad."
+
+"Make love! Ah! there, I take it, you have winged the right bird, Van
+Schaick."
+
+"If I had seen a decent petticoat since we took leave of Mynheer Van
+Winkle and his daughter, on board the good sloop St. Nicholas, I should
+think so too, Osgood."
+
+"At any rate, it would be wise to report our suspicions to his lady
+mother."
+
+"Your suspicions of what--lunacy or love?" asked Edward Houstoun.
+
+"A distinction without a difference--they are equivalent terms."
+
+Thus jested his friends, and thus jested Edward Houstoun with them--well
+assured that no gleam of the truth had shined on them--that they never
+supposed his visits at Farmer Pye's possessed any greater attraction
+than could be derived from the farmer's details of improvements made at
+the Glen, of the increased value of lands, or the proceeds of the last
+year's crop. They had never seen Lucy Watson, and how could they suspect
+that while the farmer smoked his pipe at the door, and the good dame
+bustled about her household concerns, he sat watching with enamored eyes
+the changes of a countenance full of intelligence and sensibility, and
+listening with charmed ears to a soft, musical voice recounting, with
+all the simple eloquence of genuine feeling, obligations to the father
+whose memory was with him almost an idolatry. Still less could they
+divine that Shakspeare, and Milton, and Spenser were indeed often read
+beside a purling stream, and within the dense shadow of a grove of oak
+and chestnut-trees--not to Nymph or Dryad, but to a "mortal being of
+earth's mould,"
+
+    "A creature not too bright or good
+    For human nature's daily food,
+    For simple pleasures, harmless wiles,
+    For love, blame, kisses, tears and smiles."
+
+Here, one afternoon, a fortnight after the departure of his friends, sat
+Edward Houstoun with Lucy at his side. They had lingered till the
+sunlight, which had fallen here and there in broken and changeful gleams
+through over-arching boughs, touching with gold the ripples at their
+feet, had faded into that
+
+                        "mellow light
+    Which heaven to gaudy day denies."
+
+Edward Houstoun held a book in his hand, but it had long been closed,
+while he was engaged in a far more interesting study. He had with a
+delicate tact won his companion to speak as she had never spoken before
+of herself--not of the few events of her short life, for these were
+already known to him, but of the influence of those events on feeling
+and character. Tenderness looked forth without disguise from the earnest
+eyes which were fastened on her, as he said, "You say, Lucy, that you
+have found friends every where, have met only kindness, and yet you
+weep--you are sad."
+
+"Do not think me ungrateful," she replied. "I have indeed found friends
+and kindness--but these give exercise only to my gratitude--stronger,
+tenderer affections I have, which no father, or mother, or brother, or
+sister, will ever call forth."
+
+"Nay, Lucy, were you not adopted by my father, and am I not your
+brother?"
+
+A glance whose brightness melted into tears was her only answer.
+
+"Fie! fie! tears again? I shall have to scold my sister," said Edward
+Houstoun. "What complaint can you make now that I have found you a
+brother?"
+
+Lucy laughed, but soon her face grew grave, and, after a thoughtful
+pause, she said, "I believe those cannot be quite happy who feel that
+they have nothing to do in the world. Better be the poorest drudge, with
+powers fitted to your station, than to be as I am, an idler--a mere
+looker-on at the world."
+
+"Why, Lucy! what else am I?"
+
+"You! You, with fortune to bless, and influence to guide hundreds!
+What are you? God's representative to your less fortunate
+fellow-creatures--the steward of his bounty. Oh! be sure that you use
+your gifts faithfully."
+
+Lucy spoke solemnly, and it was with no light accent that Edward
+Houstoun replied--"You mistake, Lucy--you mistake--I am in truth no less
+an idler than yourself--a looker-on, with no part in the game of life.
+To the Lady Houstoun belong both the fortune and the influence." A
+mocking smile had arisen to his lip, but, as he caught her look of
+surprise, it passed away, leaving a gentle gravity in its place, while
+he continued--"Do not think I mean to complain of my mother, Lucy. She
+has been ever affectionate and indulgent to me. She leaves me no want
+that she can perceive. My purse is always full, and my actions
+unrestrained. I suppose I ought to be happy."
+
+"And are you not happy?"
+
+"No, Lucy, no! There has long been a vague restlessness and
+dissatisfaction about me--and, now, your words have thrown light on its
+cause. I am weary of the perpetual holiday which life has been to me
+since I left the walls of a college. I want to be doing--I want an
+object--something for which to strive and hope and fear--what shall it
+be, Lucy?"
+
+"I have heard Mr. Merton say that no one could choose for another his
+aims in life, but were I choosing for myself, it should be something
+that would connect me with the minds of others--something by which I
+could do service to their spiritual beings. Were I a man, I should like
+to write books--such books as would give counsel and comfort to erring
+and sad hearts--"
+
+Edward Houstoun shook his head--"Even had I an author's gifts, Lucy,
+that would not do for me--I must have action in my life--"
+
+"What say you to the pulpit?"
+
+"The noblest of all employments, Lucy--but it is a heavenly employment
+and needs a heavenly spirit. I would not dare to think of that. Try
+again--"
+
+"The law? Ah! now I see I have chosen rightly--you will be a lawyer--a
+great lawyer, like Mr. Patrick Henry."
+
+"You have spoken, Lucy--and I will do my best to fulfil your prophecy. I
+may not be a Patrick Henry--two such men belong not to one age--but I
+may at least hew out for myself a place among men, where I may stand
+with a man's freedom of thought and action. The very decision has
+emancipated me--has emboldened me to speak what a moment since I
+scarcely dared to think--nay, turn not from me, beloved--oh how
+passionately beloved! Life has now its object for me, Lucy--your
+love--for that I will strive--hope--whisper me that I need not
+fear--that when I have a right to claim my bride--"
+
+When Edward Houstoun commenced this passionate apostrophe, he had
+clasped Lucy's hand, and, overcome by his emotions and her
+own--forgetting all but his love--conscious only of a bewildering
+joy--she had suffered it to rest for one instant in his clasp. It was
+but for one instant--the next, struggling from him as he strove to
+retain her, she started to her feet, and stood leaning against the trunk
+of the tree that overshadowed them, with her face hidden by her clasped
+hands. He rose and drew near, saying, in low, tremulous tones--"Lucy,
+what means this?"
+
+"Mr. Houstoun," she exclaimed, removing her hands from her face, and
+wringing them in passionate sorrow--"how could you speak those words?"
+
+"Wherefore should I not speak them--are they so terrifying to you,
+Lucy?"
+
+"Can they be otherwise, since they must separate us for ever? Think you
+that the Lady Houstoun would endure that the creature of her bounty
+should become the wife of her son?"
+
+"I asked, Lucy, that you would promise to be mine when I had won a right
+to act independently of the Lady Houstoun's opinions."
+
+"Has a son ever a right to act independently of a mother?"
+
+"Is the obedience of a child to be exacted from a man? Is his happiness
+ever to be at the mercy of another's prejudices? Does there never come a
+period when he may be permitted to judge for himself?"
+
+Edward Houstoun spoke with indignant emphasis.
+
+"Look not so sternly--speak not so angrily," exclaimed Lucy. "I cannot
+answer your questions--but my obligations, at least, are
+irreversible--they belong to the irrevocable past, and while I retain
+their memory I can never--"
+
+"Hush--hush, Lucy! you will drive me mad. Is my happiness of less value
+in your eyes than the few paltry dollars my mother expended for you?"
+
+"Shall I, serpent-like, sting the hand that has fed me? No! no! would I
+had never heard those words. We were so happy--you will be happy
+again--but I--leave me, I pray you, for we must part now and for
+ever--oh! leave me."
+
+"No, Lucy, we will never part--I will never leave you."
+
+He would again have drawn her to his side, but at his touch, Lucy roused
+herself, and with a wild, half-frenzied effort, breaking from him, she
+rushed rapidly, blindly forward. He would have followed her, but
+stumbling against the root of a tree, before he could recover himself
+she was at the outskirts of the wood, in sight of the farm-house, and
+though he might overtake he could not detain her. He returned home, not
+overwhelmed with disappointment, but with joy throbbing at his heart,
+and hope beaming in his eyes. Lucy loved him--of that he felt
+assured--and bucklered by that assurance he could stand against the
+world. Life was before him--a life not of sickly pleasures and _ennui_
+breeding indolence--but a life of contest and struggle and labor,
+perhaps even of exhausting labor, yet a life which should awaken and
+discipline his powers: a life of victory and of repose--sweet because
+won with effort--a life to which Lucy's love should give its crowning
+joy. Such are youth's dreams. In his case these dreams were somewhat
+rudely dispelled by a summons from his mother's physician. Lady Houstoun
+was ill--very ill--he must not delay, said the physician; and he did
+not; yet a hastily pencilled line told that even at this moment Lucy was
+not forgotten--it was a farewell which breathed love and faith and
+hope.
+
+On Edward Houstoun's arrival in New-York, he found his mother already
+recovering from the acute attack which had endangered her life and
+occasioned his recall. He soon unfolded to her his new views of life,
+and the career which he had marked out for himself. New views
+indeed--new and incomprehensible to Lady Houstoun! She saw not that the
+life of indulgence, the perpetual gala-day, which she anticipated for
+her son, would have condemned him to see his highest powers dwindle away
+and die in the lethargy of inaction, or to waste in repinings against
+fate those energies given to command success. Time moderated her
+astonishment, and quiet perseverance subdued her opposition--subdued it
+the more readily, perhaps, from the knowledge that her son could
+accomplish his designs without her aid, by turning into money the plate,
+jewels and pictures received from his father. Edward Houstoun's first
+act, after securing the execution of his designs, was to inform Lucy of
+the progress he had made. His own absence from New-York at this time
+would have excited his mother's surprise, and might have aroused her
+suspicions; but the haste with which he had left the Glen furnished him
+with a plausible excuse for sending his own man to look after clothing,
+books, &c., that had been forgotten, and by him a letter could, he knew,
+be safely sent.
+
+A few days brought back to him his own letter, with the intelligence
+that Lucy had left Farmer Pye's family. Whither she had gone, they could
+not, or would not tell. Setting all fears at defiance, he went himself
+to the Glen--he sounded and examined and cross-examined every member of
+the farmer's family; but in vain were his efforts. He learned only that
+she had declared her intention of supporting herself by her own
+exertions, instead of continuing dependent on the Lady Houstoun--that
+she had returned the lady's last donation, through the farmer, with many
+expressions of gratitude, and that she had left home for the house of
+an acquaintance in New-York, from whom she hoped to receive advice and
+assistance in the accomplishment of her intentions. She had mentioned
+neither the name nor place of residence of this friend, and though she
+had written once to the good farmer, she had only informed him that she
+had found a home and employment, without reference to any person or
+place. Edward asked to see the letter--it was brought, but the post-mark
+told no secret--it was that of the nearest post town, and the farmer,
+opening the letter, showed that Lucy had said she had requested the
+bearer to drop it into that office. Who that bearer was, none knew.
+Bitter was the disappointment of Edward Houstoun. A beautiful vision had
+crossed his path, had awakened his noblest impulses, kindled his
+passionate devotion, and then vanished for ever. But she had left
+ineradicable traces of her presence. His awakened energies, his
+passionate longings, his altered life, all gave assurance that she had
+been--that the bright ideal of womanly beauty and tenderness, and
+gentleness and firmness, which lived in his memory, was no dream of
+fancy. He anticipated little pleasure now from the pursuits on which he
+had lately determined, but his pride forbade him to relinquish them, and
+when once they had been commenced, finding in mental occupation his
+Lethe, he abandoned himself to them with all his accustomed ardor.
+
+Two years passed away with Edward Houstoun in the most intense
+intellectual action, and in death-like torpor of the affections. From
+the last his mother might have saved him, had not her want of sympathy
+with his pursuits occasioned a barrier of reserve and coolness to arise
+between them fatal to her influence. During this time no token of Lucy's
+existence had reached him: and it was with such a thrill as might have
+welcomed a visitant from the dead, that, one morning as he left his own
+house to proceed to the office in which he pursued his studies, he saw
+before him at some distance, yet without any intervening object to
+interrupt his view of her, a form and face resembling hers, though
+thinner and paler. The lady was approaching him, with slow and languid
+steps; but as her eyes were fixed upon the ground she did not perceive
+him, and just as his throbbing heart exclaimed, "It is Lucy," and he
+sprang forward to greet her, she entered a house and the door closed on
+her. The inmates of that house were but slightly known to him, as they
+had only lately moved into the street, yet he hesitated not an instant
+in ringing the bell, and inquiring of the servant who presented himself
+at the door, for Miss Watson.
+
+"Miss Watson, sir?" repeated the man, "there is no such person living
+here."
+
+"She may not live here, but I saw her enter your door, and I wish to
+speak to her." At this moment Lucy crossed the hall at its further end,
+and he sprang forward, exclaiming "Lucy--Miss Watson--thank Heaven I see
+you once more!"
+
+A slight scream from Lucy, and the tremor which shook her frame, showed
+her recognition of him. She leaned for an instant against the wall, too
+faint for speech or action, while he clasped her hand in his; but a
+voice broke in upon his raptures and her agitation--a sharp, angry
+voice, coming from a lady who, leaning over the balustrade of the
+stairs, had seen and heard all that was passing below.
+
+"Lucy--Lucy--come up here--I am waiting for you--this is certainly very
+extraordinary conduct--very extraordinary indeed."
+
+"You shall not go," said Edward Houstoun, while the red blood flushed to
+his brow at the thought that his Lucy could be thus ordered. Lucy's face
+glowed too, and there was a proud flush from her eye, yet she resisted
+his efforts to detain her, and when he placed himself before her to
+prevent her leaving him, she opened a door near her, and though he
+followed her quickly through it, he was just in time to see her rushing
+up a private staircase. He would not leave the house without an
+interview, and going into one of the parlors, he rang the bell, and
+requested to see Mrs. Blakely, the lady of the house. She came, looking
+very haughty and very angry. He apologized for his intrusion, but
+expressed a wish to see a young lady, Miss Watson, who was, he
+perceived, under her care. With a yet haughtier air, Mrs. Blakely
+replied, "I am not acquainted with any young _lady_ of the name of
+Watson. Lucy Watson, the girl whom you met in the hall just now--is my
+seamstress. If you wish to see her, I will send her down to you, though
+I do not generally allow my servants to receive their visitors here."
+
+"I shall be happy to see her wherever you please," was Edward Houstoun's
+very truthful reply.
+
+Mrs. Blakely left him, and he stationed himself at the door to watch for
+Lucy. Minutes, which seemed to him hours, passed, and she came not. At
+length, as he was about to ring again, steps were heard approaching; he
+turned quickly, but it was not Lucy. The girl who entered handed him a
+sealed note. He tore it open and read--"I dare not see you. When you
+receive this I shall have left the house, and, as no one knows whither I
+have gone, questions would be useless."
+
+In an instant he was in the street, looking with eager eyes hither and
+thither for some trace of the lost one. He looked in vain, yet he went
+towards his office with happier feelings than he had long known. He knew
+now where Lucy was, and a thousand expedients suggested themselves, by
+which he could not fail to see her. If he could only converse with her
+for a few minutes, he was assured he could prevail on her to leave her
+present position, of which he could not for a moment bear to think. His
+heart swelled, his brow flushed, whenever the remembrance of that
+position flashed upon his mind, yet he never for an instant regarded it
+as changing his relations with Lucy, or lessening his desire to call her
+his. He recollected with pleasure two circumstances which had scarcely
+been remarked at the moment of their occurrence. The man who had opened
+the door to him, when he saw him spring forward to meet Lucy, had
+exclaimed, "Oh! it was _Miss_ Lucy you meant, sir;" and the girl who had
+handed the note had said, "_Miss_ Lucy has gone out, sir." It was
+evident she was not regarded by the servants as one of themselves--she
+had not been degraded by association with menials. This was true. Lucy
+had made such separation on her part an indispensable necessity, and
+Mrs. Blakely had been too sensible of the value of one possessing so
+much taste and skill in all feminine adornments, to hesitate about
+complying with her demand. This lady was one of the _nouveaux riches_,
+who occupied her life in scheming to attain a position to which neither
+birth nor education entitled her. The brightest dream connected with her
+present abode had been that its proximity to Lady Houstoun's residence
+might lead to an acquaintance with one of the proudest of that charmed
+circle in which Mrs. Blakely longed to tread. Hitherto this had proved a
+dream indeed, but Edward Houstoun's incursion into her domain, and the
+developments made by it, might, she thought, with a little address,
+render it a reality. It was with this purpose that she sent a note to
+Lady Houstoun, requesting an interview with her on a subject deeply
+connected with the honor of her family and the happiness of her son.
+Immediately on despatching this note, the servants were ordered to
+uncover the furniture in the drawing-room, while she herself hastened to
+assume her most becoming morning dress. Her labors were fruitless. "Lady
+Houstoun would be at home to Mrs. Blakely till noon," was the scarcely
+courteous reply to her carefully worded note. It was an occasion on
+which she could not afford to support her pride, and she availed herself
+of the permission to call.
+
+The interview between Lady Houstoun and Mrs. Blakely would have been an
+interesting study to the nice observer of character. The efforts on the
+part of the one lady to be condescending, and on that of the other to be
+dignified, were almost equally successful. Mrs. Blakely had seldom felt
+her wealth of so little consequence as in the presence of her commanding
+yet simply attired hostess, and Lady Houstoun had never been more
+disposed to assert the privileges of her rank, than when she heard that
+her son had forgotten his own so far as to visit on terms of
+equality--nay, if Mrs. Blakely were to be believed, positively to
+address in the style of a lover--a seamstress--the seamstress of Mrs.
+Blakely.
+
+"This is very painful intelligence to me, Mrs. Blakely--of course you
+must be aware that Mr. Houstoun could only have contemplated a temporary
+acquaintance with this girl. I do not fear that in his most reckless
+moment he could have thought of such a _mésalliance_--but this young
+woman must be saved--she was a _protégé_ of Sir Edward Houstoun, and for
+his sake must not be allowed to come to harm--may I trouble you to send
+her to me?"
+
+The request was given very much in the style of a command. Mrs. Blakely
+would not confess that she had great doubts of her power to comply with
+it, but this would have been sufficiently evident to any one who had
+marked the uncertain air and softened tone with which Lady Houstoun's
+wishes were made known to Lucy. Indignant as she was at Mrs. Blakely's
+impertinent interference, Lucy scarcely regretted Lady Houstoun's
+acquaintance with her son's feelings. We do not know that far below all
+those acknowledged impulses leading her to comply with the lady's
+request, there did not lie some romantic hope that influences were astir
+through which
+
+    "Pride might be quell'd and love be free,"
+
+but this she did not whisper even to her own heart.
+
+"Better that the lady should know all--she will act both wisely and
+tenderly--perhaps for her son's sake, she will aid me to leave
+New-York." Such was the only language into which she allowed even her
+thought silently to form itself.
+
+Arranging her simple dress with as much care as though she were about to
+meet her lover himself, Lucy set out for her interview with Lady
+Houstoun. She had but a short distance to traverse, but she lingered on
+her way, oppressed by a tremulous anxiety. She was apprehensive of she
+knew not what or wherefore--for again and again her heart acquitted her
+of all blame. At length she is at the door--it opens, and, with a
+courtesy which the servants of Mrs. Blakely never show to a visitor who
+comes without carriage or attendants, she is ushered into the presence
+of Lady Houstoun. The lady fixes her eyes upon her as she enters, bows
+her head slightly in acknowledgment of her courtesy, and says coldly,
+"You are the young woman, I suppose, whom Mrs. Blakely was to send to
+me?"
+
+Lucy paused for a moment, to still the throbbing of her heart, before
+she attempted to reply. The thought flashed through her mind, "I am a
+woman, and young, and therefore she should pity me"--but she answered in
+a low, sweet, tremulous tone, "I am the Lucy Watson, madam, to whom Sir
+Edward Houstoun was so kind."
+
+At that name a softer expression stole over the Lady Houstoun's face,
+and she glanced quickly at a portrait hanging over the ample fireplace,
+which represented a gentleman of middle age, dressed in the uniform of a
+colonel of the American army. As she turned her eyes again on Lucy, she
+saw that hers were fastened on the same object.
+
+"You have seen Sir Edward?" she said in gentle tones.
+
+"Seen him, lady!--I loved him--oh how dearly!"
+
+"Honored him would be a more appropriate expression."
+
+"I loved him, lady--we are permitted to love our God," said Lucy,
+firmly.
+
+Lady Houstoun's brow grew stern again.--"And from this you argue,
+doubtless, that you have a right to love his son."
+
+Lucy's pale face became crimson, and she bent her eyes to the ground
+without speaking--the lady continued--"I scarcely think that you could
+yourself have believed that Edward Houstoun intended to dishonor his
+family by a legal connection with you."
+
+The crimson deepened on Lucy's face, but it was now the flush of pride,
+and raising her head she met Lady Houstoun's eyes fully as she
+replied--"I could not believe that he ever designed to dishonor himself
+by ruining the orphan child of him who died in his father's defence."
+
+"And you have intended to avail yourself of his infatuation. The menial
+of Mrs. Blakely would be a worthy daughter, truly, of a house which has
+counted nobles among its members."
+
+"If I have resisted Mr. Houstoun's wishes--separated myself from him,
+and resigned all hope of even looking on his face again, it has not been
+from the slightest reverence for the nobility of his descent, but from
+self-respect, from a regard to the nobleness of my own spirit. I had
+eaten of your bread, lady, and I could not do that which might grieve
+you--yet the bread which had cost me so much became bitter to me, and I
+left the home you had provided to seek one by my own honest exertions. I
+have earned my bread, but not as a menial--not in the companionship of
+the vulgar--and this Mrs. Blakely could have told you."
+
+"If your determination were, as you say, to separate yourself from Mr.
+Houstoun, it is unfortunate that you should have taken up your residence
+so near us."
+
+"I knew not until this morning that I was near you."
+
+"If you are sincere in what you say, you will have no objection now to
+leave New-York."
+
+"I have no objection to go to any place in which I can support myself in
+peace."
+
+"As to supporting yourself, that is of no consequence. I will--"
+
+"Pardon me, Lady Houstoun, it is of the utmost consequence to me. I
+cannot again live a dependent on your bounty."
+
+"What can you do? Has your education been such that you can take the
+situation of governess?"
+
+"Mr. Merton was a highly educated man, and Mrs. Merton an accomplished
+woman--it was their pleasure to teach me, and mine to learn from them."
+
+"Accomplished! There stands a harp which has just been tuned by a master
+for a little concert we are to have this evening. Can you play on it?"
+
+Lucy drew the instrument to her and played an overture correctly, yet
+with less spirit than she would have done had her fingers trembled less.
+
+"Can you sing?"
+
+Elevated above all apprehension by the indignant pride which this cold
+and haughty questioning aroused, Lucy changed the music of the overture
+for a touching air, and, sang, with a rich, full voice, a single stanza
+of an Italian song.
+
+"Italian! Do you understand it?"
+
+"I have read it with Mr. Merton."
+
+"This is fortunate. I have been for weeks in search of a governess for a
+friend residing in the country. I will order the carriage and take you
+there instantly--or stay--return home and put up your clothes. I will
+send a coach for you."
+
+Again Lucy had vanished from Edward Houstoun's world, nor could his most
+munificent bribes, nor most active cross-examination win any other
+information from Mrs. Blakely's household, than that "Miss Lucy went
+away in a carriage"--a carriage whose description presented a _fac
+simile_ to every hackney-coach. Spite of all her precautions, he
+suspected his mother; to his consciousness of her want of sympathy with
+his pursuits, was therefore added a deep sense of injury, and his heart
+grew sterner, his manner colder and more reserved than ever. Two years
+more were passed in his studies, and a third in the long delays, the
+fruitless efforts which mark the entrance on any career of profitable
+exertion. During all this time, Lady Houstoun was studious to bring
+around him the loveliest daughters of affluence and rank. Graceful forms
+flitted through her halls, and the music of sweet voices and the gay
+laughter of innocent and happy hearts were heard within her rooms, but
+by all their attractions Edward Houstoun was unmoved. Courteous and
+bland to all, he never lingered by the side of one--no quick flush, no
+flashing beam told that even for a passing moment his heart was again
+awake. Could it be that from all this array of loveliness he was guarded
+by the memory of her who had stamped the impress of herself on his whole
+altered being? If the gratification of the man's sterner ambition could
+have atoned for the disappointment of the youth's dream of love, the
+shadow of that memory would have passed from his life. Step by step he
+had risen in the opinions of men, and at length one of the most profound
+lawyers of the day sought his association with himself in a case of the
+most intense interest, involving the honor of a lovely and much-wronged
+woman. His reputation out of the halls of justice had already become
+such that many thronged the court to hear him. Gallant gentlemen and
+fair ladies looked down on him from the galleries--but far apart from
+these, in a distant corner, sat one whose tall form was enveloped in a
+cloak, and whose face was closely veiled. Beneath that cloak throbbed a
+mother's heart, and through that veil a mother's eyes sought the face
+she loved best on earth. He knew not she was there, for she rarely now
+asked a question respecting his engagements, or expressed any interest
+in his movements, yet how her ears drank in the music of his voice, and
+her eyes flashed back the proud light that shone in his! As she listened
+to his delineation of woman's claims to the sympathy and the defence of
+every generous heart, as she heard his biting sarcasm on the cowardly
+nature that, having wronged, would now crush into deeper ruin his fair
+client, as she saw kindling eyes fixed upon him, and caught, when he
+paused for a moment exhausted by the rush of indignant feeling, the low
+murmur of admiring crowds, how she longed to cry aloud, "My son--my
+son!" He speaks again. Higher and higher rises his lofty strain, bearing
+along with it the passions of the multitude. He ceases--and, as though
+touched by an electric shock, hundreds spring at once to their feet. The
+emphatic "Silence!" of the venerable judge hushes the shout upon their
+lips, but the mother has seen that movement, and, bursting into tears of
+proud triumphant joy, she finds her way below, and is in the street
+before the verdict which his eloquence had won was pronounced.
+
+Edward Houstoun had fitted up a room in his mother's house as a study,
+and over his accustomed seat hung his father's portrait. To that room he
+went on his return from the scene we have described. Beneath the
+portrait stood one who seldom entered there. She turned at the opening
+of the door--the lip, usually so firmly compressed, was quivering with
+emotion, and those stern eyes were full of tears. She advanced to him,
+drew near, and resting her head upon his shoulder whispered, "I, too, am
+a woman needing tenderness--shut not your heart against me, my son, for
+without you I am alone in the world."
+
+The proud spirit had bent, the sealed fountain was opened, and as he
+clasped his arms around her, the tears of mother and son mingled; but
+amidst the joy of this reunion Edward Houstoun felt more deeply than he
+had done for long months the desolation that had fallen on his life. His
+heart had been silent--it now spoke again, and sad were its tones.
+
+It is summer. The courts are closed, and all who can are escaping from
+the city's heat to the cool, refreshing shades of the country. Woe to
+those who remain! The pestilence has stretched her wings over them. The
+shadow and the silence of death has fallen on their deserted streets.
+The yellow-fever is in New-York--introduced, it is said, by ships from
+the West Indies. Before it appeared Edward Houstoun was far away. He was
+travelling to recruit his exhausted powers--to Niagara, perhaps into
+Canada, and in the then slow progress of news he was little likely to be
+recalled by any intelligence from the city. His mother was one of the
+first who had sickened. And where were now the fair forms that had
+encircled her in health--where the servants who had administered with
+obsequious attention to her lightest wish? All had fled, for no
+gratified vanity--no low cupidity can give courage for attendance on the
+bed of one in whose breath death is supposed to lurk. The devotedness of
+love, the self-sacrifice of Christian Charity, are the only impulses for
+such a deed. Yet over the sufferer is bending one whose form in its
+perfect development has richly fulfilled its early promise, and whose
+face is more beautiful in the gentle strength and thoughtfulness of
+womanhood than it had been in all its early brightness. In her peaceful
+home, where the reverent love of her young pupils and the confidence of
+their parents had made her happy, Lucy had heard from one of Lady
+Houstoun's terrified domestics of the condition in which she had been
+left, and few hours sufficed to bring her to her side. Days and nights
+of the most assiduous watchfulness, cheered by no companionship,
+followed, and then the physician, as he stood beside his patient and
+marked her regular breathing, her placid sleep, and the moisture on her
+brow, whispered, "You have saved her."
+
+We will not linger to describe the emotion with which Lady Houstoun,
+awakening from this long and tranquil slumber, exhausted, but no longer
+delirious, first recognised her nurse. At first, no doubt, painful
+recollections were aroused, but with the feebleness of childhood had
+returned much of its gentleness and susceptibility, and Lucy was at once
+so tender and so cheerful, that very soon her ministerings were received
+with unalloyed pleasure.
+
+Sickness is a heavenly teacher to those who will open their hearts to
+her. Lady Houstoun arose to a new life. She had stood so near to death
+that she seemed to have looked upon earth in the light of eternity. In
+that light, rank and title, with all their lofty associations and
+splendid accompaniments, faded away, while true nobleness, the nobleness
+which dwells in the Christian precept "Love your enemies--do good to
+those that despitefully use you," stood out in all its beauty and
+excellence.
+
+As soon as Lady Houstoun could be removed with safety, she went, by the
+advice of her physician, to her country-seat. Lucy would now have
+returned to her pupils--she feared every day lest Edward Houstoun should
+appear, and a new contest be necessary with his feelings and her
+own--but Lady Houstoun still pleaded her imperfectly restored health as
+reason for another week's delay, and Lucy could not resist her
+pleadings.
+
+It was afternoon, and Lucy sat in the library, which was in the rear of
+the house, far removed from its public entrance. Spenser's Faery Queen
+was in her hand, but she had turned from its witching pages to gaze upon
+the title-page, on which was written, in Edward Houstoun's hand, "June
+24th, 18--." It was the day, as Lucy well remembered, on which he had
+first revealed his love, and chosen his career in life. She was aroused
+from her reverie by Lady Houstoun's entrance. As she held the door open,
+the bright sunlight from an opposite window threw a shadow on the floor
+which made Lucy's heart throb painfully. She looked eagerly forward--a
+manly form entered and stood before her. She could not turn from the
+pleading eyes which were fixed with such intense earnestness on hers.
+With a bewildered half-conscious air she rose from her chair. He came
+near her and extended his arms. One glance at the smiling Lady Houstoun
+showed Lucy that her interdict was removed, and the next instant she lay
+in speechless joy once more upon her lover's bosom.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII.
+
+
+We were within three days of the New Year. Mr. Arlington, who was quite
+learned on the subject, had been amusing us with an account of its
+various modes of celebration in various countries. He was perfectly
+brilliant in a description of New-York as seen under the sun of a clear,
+frosty New-Year's morning, with snow enough to make the sleighing good.
+The gay, fantastic sleighs, dashing hither and thither, and their
+exhilarated occupants bowing now on this side and now on that, to
+acquaintances rushing by almost too rapidly to be distinguished, while
+the silvery bells ring out their merry peals on the still air. Then the
+festive array which greets the caller at every house within which he
+enters. Beauty adorned with smiles and dress, gayly decorated tables,
+brightly burning fires, and every thing seeming to speak the welcome not
+of mere form, but of hearty hospitality. There is one aspect in which he
+presents this day to us, that is peculiarly pleasing. He says, that many
+a slight estrangement, springing from some one of those "trifles" which
+"make the sum of human life," has been prevented, by the influence of
+this day, from becoming a life-long enmity. Thus the New-Year's day
+becomes a Peace-maker, and has on it the blessing of Heaven. Long live
+the custom which has made it such!
+
+"And how shall we celebrate our New-Year?" asked Col. Donaldson.
+
+"Let us introduce the New-York custom," suggested one.
+
+"That would not do without some previous agreement with your neighbors,"
+replied Mr. Arlington, "as their ladies would not probably be prepared
+for your visits, and while you were making them, the ladies of your own
+family would be left to entertain themselves as they could."
+
+"That will never do," said Col. Donaldson; "better invite all our
+neighbors to visit us on that day. Suppose we give them a dinner?"
+
+"Oh, papa!" cried Miss Donaldson in dismay. And "My dear husband!"
+ejaculated the smiling Mrs. Donaldson, "where would you find room to
+accommodate them all?"
+
+"True--true--we could not dine them in the open air at this season."
+
+"But there would be no such objection to an evening party," said one of
+the young Donaldsons. "We have fine sleighing now, and the moon rises
+only a little after eight on New-Year's evening; why not invite them for
+the evening."
+
+"What, another such stiff affair as Annie insisted on entertaining her
+friends the Misses Morrison with the last winter, when I saw one of the
+poor girls actually clap her hands with delight at the announcement of
+her carriage?"
+
+"Oh, no! Leave it to me, and it shall not be a stiff affair at all. We
+will appear in fancy dresses--"
+
+"My dear Philip!" remonstrated Mrs. Donaldson.
+
+"Oh! not you, my dear mother, nor my father, unless he should like
+it--indeed, it shall be optional with all--but enough, I am sure, will
+like to make it an entertaining variety."
+
+"But where shall we get fancy dresses, distant as we are from the city?"
+asked Annie.
+
+"Leave yours to me, Annie, I have it ready for you," said Philip
+Donaldson, with so significant an air, that I at once suspected this
+suggestion to have been the result of the arrival on that very day of a
+box, addressed to him by a ship from Constantinople, of which he had
+hitherto made a great mystery.
+
+"Thank you, Philip; but you cannot, I suppose, supply all the company,
+and I had rather not be the only one in fancy costume, if you please."
+
+"If mamma will surrender to me the key of that great wardrobe, up
+stairs, which contains the brocade dresses, shoe-buckles, knee-buckles,
+etc., of our great-grandfathers and grandmothers, I will promise to
+supply dresses for our own party, at least, with a little aid from the
+needles and scissors."
+
+"I bar scissors," cried Col. Donaldson. "Those venerable heir-looms--"
+
+"Shall not lose a shred, sir," said Philip; "the scissors shall only be
+used to cut the threads, with which the ladies take in a reef here and
+there, when it is necessary."
+
+"But you have provided only for our party. Are our guests not to be in
+costume?"
+
+"That may be as they please. We will express the wish, and if they have
+any ingenuity, they can have no difficulty in getting up some of the
+staple characters of such a scene, flower-girls and shepherdesses,
+sailors, sultans, and beggars."
+
+The scheme seemed feasible enough, when thus presented, and had
+sufficient novelty to please the young people. It was accordingly
+adopted, and the evening was passed in writing invitations, which were
+dispatched at an early hour the next morning. The three succeeding days
+were days of pleasurable excitement, in preparation for the fête.
+Needles and scissors were both in active use, and the brocade dresses
+lost, I am afraid, more than one shred in the process of adjusting them
+to the figures for which they were now designed. Mrs. Dudley and Mrs.
+Seagrove were thus arranged as rival beauties of the court of Queen
+Anne. Philip Donaldson, with the aid of a bag-wig, for which Mr.
+Arlington has written at his request to a friend, in what city I may
+not say, and with some of his father's youthful finery, and the shoe and
+knee-buckles aforesaid, will make an excellent beau for these belles.
+Col. Donaldson, always ready for any harmless mirth, says they must
+accept him in his father's continental uniform for another. Mr.
+Arlington makes quite a mystery of his costume, but it is a mystery
+already revealed, both to Col. Donaldson and Philip, as I can plainly
+perceive by the significant glances they exchange whenever an allusion
+is made to it. Robert Dudley is to be a page, Charles Seagrove, a
+beautiful boy of six years old, an Oberon, and our little Eva a Titania.
+Mrs. Donaldson and I were permitted to appear in our usual dress, and
+Miss Donaldson strenuously claimed the same privilege, but it was not
+allowed. She resisted all entreaties, even from her favorite brother
+Arthur; but when her father gravely regretted her inability to
+sympathize with the enjoyments of others, she was overcome. Having
+yielded, she yielded entirely, and was willing to wear anything her
+sisters wished. As she is considered by them all, even in her
+thirty-third year, as the beauty of the family, her dress has been more
+carefully studied by them than any other. Every book of costumes within
+their reach was searched for it again and again, without success; one
+was rich, but unbecoming, another pretty, but it did not suit her style,
+and a third all they desired, but unattainable at so short a notice. As
+a last resource, my engravings were resorted to, and there, to my own
+surprise, they found what satisfied all their demands. One of the
+historical prints showed the dress worn in her bridal days by Hotspur's
+Kate. Miss Donaldson accepted it thankfully, as being less _bizarre_
+than any yet proposed to her, requiring nothing more than a full skirt
+of white satin, a jacket not very unlike the modern Polka, and a bridal
+veil. One condition she insisted on, however, namely, that Arthur should
+be her Hotspur. To this he consented without difficulty, not without an
+eye, I suspect, to the appearance of his tall, erect, graceful form and
+bearing in such a dress as Hotspur's.
+
+The last evening of the Old Year had arrived, our preparations were
+completed, and our little party were experiencing something of that
+_ennui_ which results from having nothing to do, when, in putting away
+the materials lately in use, Annie took up my engraving of Hotspur and
+Kate. Handing it to me, she said. "I know these engravings are precious,
+Aunt Nancy, though what can be the association with this one, I am, I
+acknowledge, at a loss to conceive."
+
+"And yet it is a very simple one. I treasure it in memory of my friend
+Harry Percy and his bride."
+
+"What! Hotspur?" questioned Annie with dilating eyes.
+
+"Not quite, though he was a lineal descendant of the old Percys, and hot
+enough on occasion, too."
+
+"You mean Colonel Percy of the British army, who married Miss Sinclair,
+of Havre de Grace, during our last war with England, or immediately
+after it, I never quite understood which. There seemed some mystery
+about the marriage, and I did not like to inquire too closely, but I
+dare say now, Aunt Nancy, you can tell us all about it."
+
+"I believe I can. See Annie, if among these packages you can find one
+labelled 'The Test of Love.'"
+
+"What! another story of a proud beauty winning her glove and losing her
+lover?" asked Mr. Arlington.
+
+"No; my test, or rather my hero's test, was somewhat different," I
+replied, as I received the package from Annie, and read,
+
+
+THE TEST OF LOVE:
+
+A STORY OF THE LAST WAR.
+
+When Mr. Sinclair, the rector of St John's, in Havre de Grace took
+possession of his pretty parsonage, and persuaded the fair and gentle
+Lucy Hillman to preside over his unpretending _ménage_, and to share the
+comforts that lay within the compass of his stipend of one thousand
+dollars per annum, he felt that his largest earthly desires were
+fulfilled. A daughter was given to him, and with a grateful heart he
+exclaimed--"Surely Thou hast made my cup to overflow."
+
+But he too was a man "born to trouble." He too must be initiated into
+those "sacred mysteries of sorrow," through which the High-priest of his
+profession had passed. In the succeeding ten years, three other children
+opened their soft, loving eyes in his home, made its air musical with
+their glad voices and ringing laughter, and just as he had learned to
+listen for the pattering of their dimpled foot, and his heart had
+throbbed joyously to their call, they were borne from his arms to the
+grave, and the echoes which they had awakened in his soul were hushed
+for ever. Still his Lucy and their first-born were spared, and as he
+drew them closer to his heart he could "lift his trusting eyes" to Him
+from whom his faith taught him no real evil could come to the loving
+spirit. The shadow of earth had fallen on his heart, but the light of
+heaven still beamed brightly there. Years passed with Mr. Sinclair in
+that deep quiet of the soul which is "the sober certainty of waking
+bliss." His labors were labors of love, and he was welcomed to repose by
+all those charms which woman's taste and woman's tenderness can bring
+clustering around the home of him to whom her heart is devoted. But a
+darker trial than any he had yet known awaited him.
+
+War is in our borders, and that quiet town in which Mr. Sinclair's life
+has passed is destined to feel its heaviest curse. Its streets are
+filled with soldiery. The dark canopy of smoke from which now and then a
+lurid flame shoots upward, shows that their work is destruction, and
+that they will do it well. Terrified women flit hither and thither,
+mingling their shrieks in a wild and fiend-like concert with the crack
+of musketry, the falling of houses, and the loud huzzas and fierce
+outcries of excited men. At a distance from that quarter in which the
+strife commenced, stands a simple village church, within whose shadow
+many of those who had worshipped in its walls during the last half
+century, have lain down to rest from the toils of life. No proud
+mausoleum shuts the sunshine from those lowly graves. Drooping elms and
+willows bend over them, and the whispering of their long pendent
+branches, as the summer breeze sweeps them hither and thither, is the
+only sound that breaks the stillness of that hallowed air. Near the
+church, on the opposite side from this home of the dead, lies a garden,
+whose roses and honey-suckles perfume the air, while its bowers of lilac
+and laburnum, of myrtle and jessamine, almost shut from the view the
+pretty cottage to which it belongs. All around, all within that cottage,
+is silent. Have its inmates fled?
+
+The neighboring houses have been long deserted, and those who left them
+would gladly have persuaded their pastor to accompany them; but when
+they called to urge his doing so, he could only point to the bed on
+which, already bereft of sense, and evidently fast passing from life,
+lay one "all lovely to the last." Mrs. Sinclair's health, delicate for
+years, had rapidly failed in the last few months, till her anxious
+husband and child, aware that a moment's acceleration of the pulse, a
+moment's quickening of the breath from whatever cause, might snatch her
+from their arms, learned to modulate every tone, to guard every look and
+movement in her presence. But they could not shut from her ears the boom
+of the cannon which heralded the approach of the foe--they could not
+hush the startling cries with which others met the announcement of their
+arrival, and the first evidences of that savage fury which desolated
+their homes, and left a dark stain on the escutcheon of Britain. Mrs.
+Sinclair uttered no cry when her terrors were thus excited, she even
+strove to smile upon her loved ones, to raise their drooping hearts; and
+in this, woman's holiest task, the springs of her life gave way--not
+with a sudden snap, but slowly, gently--so that for hours her husband
+and daughter stood watching the shadow of death steal over her, hoping
+yet to catch one glance of love, one whispered farewell ere she should
+pass for ever from them.
+
+"Fear not, my child," said Mr. Sinclair, when their sad vigils were
+first interrupted by those who urged their flight--"they are enemies, it
+is true, but they are Englishmen, a peaceful clergyman, a defenceless
+woman, are safe in their hands--they will not harm us."
+
+"I have no fear, no thought of them, father!" said Mary Sinclair, as she
+turned weeping to the only object of fear, or hope, or thought, at that
+moment.
+
+But soon others of Mr. Sinclair's parishioners came to warn him that his
+confidence had been misplaced, that no character, no age, no sex, had
+proved a protection from the ruthless fury of their assailants. He would
+now have persuaded his daughter to accompany her friends to a place of
+safety, and when persuasions proved vain he would have commanded her,
+but, lifting her calm eyes to his, she said, "Father have you not taught
+me that, in all God's universe, the only safe place for us is that to
+which our duty calls us--and is not my duty here?"
+
+A colder heart would have argued with her, and might, perhaps, have
+proved to her that her duty was not there--that her father could watch
+the dying, and that it was her duty to preserve herself for him; but Mr.
+Sinclair folded her in his arms while his lips moved for an instant in
+earnest prayer, and then, turning to his waiting friends, he said, "Go,
+go, my friends--I thank you--but God has called us to this, and he will
+care for us."
+
+When the work of desolation had been completed in the quarter first
+attacked, parties of soldiers straggled off from the main body in search
+of further prey. Fearful was it to meet these men--their faces blackened
+with smoke, their hands stained with blood, fierce frowns upon their
+brows, and curses on their lips. The parsonage presented little
+attraction in its external aspect to men whose object was plunder, and
+they turned first to larger and more showy buildings. These were soon
+rifled; the noise of their ribald songs, their blasphemous oaths and
+drunken revelry penetrating often the chamber of death, yet scarcely
+awakening an emotion in the presence of the great Destroyer. At length
+the little gate is flung rudely open, and unsteady but heavy steps
+ascend from the court-yard to the house. They cross the piazza, they
+enter the parlor where life's gentlest courtesies and holiest affections
+have hitherto dwelt, the door of the room beyond is thrown open, and two
+men stand upon its threshold, sobered for an instant by the scene before
+them. There, pale, emaciated, the dim eyes closed, and the face wearing
+that unearthly beauty which seems the token of an adieu too fond, too
+tender, too sacred for human language, from the parting spirit to its
+loved ones, the wife and mother, speechless, senseless, yet not quite
+lifeless, lay propped by pillows. At her side knelt Mr. Sinclair; the
+pallor of deep, overpowering emotion was on his cheek, yet in his lifted
+eyes there was an expression of holy faith, and you might almost have
+fancied that a smile lay upon the lips which were breathing forth the
+hallowed strains of prayer--"Save and deliver us, we humbly beseech
+Thee, from the hands of our enemies, that we, being armed with thy
+defence, may be preserved evermore from all perils, to glorify Thee, who
+art the only giver of all victory, through the merits of thy Son, Jesus
+Christ our Lord--Amen."
+
+Dark, sinful men as they were, fresh from brutal crime, those strains
+touched a long silent chord in their hearts--a chord linked with the
+memory of a smiling village in their own distant land--with a mother's
+love and the innocence of childhood. Faint--faint, alas! were those
+memories, and Mr. Sinclair's "amen" had scarcely issued from his lips,
+when the eyes of the leader rested on the beautiful face of Mary
+Sinclair, as, pressed to the side of her father, she stretched her arms
+out over her dying mother, and turned her eyes imploringly on their
+dreaded visitors. The ruffians sprang forward with words whose meaning
+was happily lost to the failing sense of the terror-stricken girl. Mr.
+Sinclair started to his feet, and with one arm still clasped around his
+daughter, stood between her and the worse than murderers before him,
+prepared to defend her with his life. For the first time he thirsted for
+blood, and looked around for some weapon of destruction--but his was the
+abode of peace--no weapon was there. Unarmed, with that loved
+burden--loved at this moment even to agony, resting upon him--he stood
+opposed to two fierce men armed to the teeth. A father's strength in
+such a cause, who shall estimate?--yet, alas! his adversaries were
+demons, relentless in purpose, and possessed of that superhuman force
+which passion gives. Weary of killing, or influenced by that
+superstition which sometimes rules the soul from which religion is
+wholly banished, they did not avail themselves of their swords. With
+fierce threats they unclasped his arm from that senseless form, which
+sank instantly to the floor at his feet, and drew him across the room.
+They would have forced him into the parlor, but his resistance was
+desperate, and ere they could accomplish this, the sound of a drum
+beating the recall was borne faintly to their ears. Leaving his comrade
+to hold the wildly struggling father, the bolder ruffian turned back
+toward the still prostrate Mary. At that moment, before she had been
+polluted by a touch, the door was thrown violently back, and a tall,
+manly form strode through it. The gilded epaulettes and drooping feather
+told his rank, before the step of pride and countenance of stern command
+had conveyed to the mind the conviction that you stood in the presence
+of one accustomed to be obeyed. The man who grasped Mr. Sinclair
+loosened his hold and shrank cowering away. He went unnoticed, for the
+eye of the officer had fallen upon him who was in the act of stooping to
+lift Mary Sinclair from the floor. With a single spring he was at his
+side, and catching him by the collar of his coat, he hurled him from him
+with such force that he fell stunned against the farther wall. Mr.
+Sinclair was already bending over his daughter. As he raised her on his
+arm her head fell back, exposing her face, around which her dark hair
+swept in dense masses. Her features were of chiselled beauty, and had
+they been indeed of marble they could not have been more bloodless in
+their hue, while her jetty lashes lay as still upon her cheek as though
+the hand of death had sealed her eyes for ever. Mr. Sinclair had no such
+fear. He knew that she had only fainted, and rejoiced that God in his
+mercy had spared her the worst horrors of the scene; but as Captain
+Percy's eyes rested on her, a deeper scowl settled on his brow, and in a
+hoarse whisper he asked:--
+
+"Have they harmed her, sir?"
+
+"Not by a touch, thank God! not by a touch!" exclaimed the father, as he
+pressed her with passionate joy to his heart--ay, joy, even in the
+presence of her so long the light of his life now passing for ever from
+earth. For a few minutes the dying had been forgotten, for what was
+death--a death of peace--to the long misery into which man's base,
+brutal passion would have converted the life of that pure and lovely
+girl? Now, however, she was safe, and still supporting her on his arm,
+Mr. Sinclair turned to his wife and tenderly moistened her parched lips.
+What a mockery of all human cares seemed that pale, peaceful
+brow--peaceful, while he whose lightest sorrow had thrown a shadow on
+her life was suffering anguish inexpressible, and the child who had lain
+in her bosom, to the lightest throb of whose heart her own had answered,
+lay senseless from terror in his arms. It was a scene to touch the
+hardest heart, and Captain Percy's heart was not hard. He looked around
+for the men whom he had interrupted in their hellish designs--they were
+not there.
+
+"Is this their work?" he asked of Mr. Sinclair, pointing to his scarcely
+breathing wife.
+
+"No--no--this is the gentle hand of our Father," said Mr. Sinclair, as
+he bent his head and touched with his lips the sunken cheek dearer to
+him now than it had been in all its girlish roundness. The blood had
+begun to cast a slight tinge of red into the lips of Mary Sinclair
+before Captain Percy had left the room in search of the men whom he was
+unwilling to leave behind him, and when he returned, the tremor of her
+form and the close clasp with which she clung to her father, proved that
+her consciousness and her memory were awake. His step had startled her,
+and as he entered he heard Mr. Sinclair say, "Fear not, my daughter,
+that is the step of your deliverer, and though he is an English
+soldier----"
+
+"I pray you, sir, judge not Englishmen by ruffians like these--a
+disgrace to the name of man. Believe me, every country has within it
+wretches, who, at moments such as this, when all social restraints are
+withdrawn, become demons. But I must leave you, in safety, I trust, as I
+have sent to the ships all the soldiers whom I could discover in your
+neighborhood."
+
+"Farewell, sir," said Mr. Sinclair, extending his hand--"God reward you
+for the timely aid you have this day brought to the defenceless. Look
+up, my child, and join your thanks with mine."
+
+Mary Sinclair raised her head from her father's bosom, and lifting her
+eyes for an instant to the face of Captain Percy, unclosed her lips to
+speak, but voice and words were denied her.
+
+"God bless you, lady!" he exclaimed, as taking her hand he raised it to
+his lips, and relinquishing it with one glance of sympathy at the dying,
+turned away and passed from the room. He returned once more, but it was
+only to leave his pistols with Mr. Sinclair.
+
+"They are loaded, sir, and in such a cause as you needed them just now,
+even a Christian minister may use them."
+
+Captain Percy spoke rapidly, only glancing at Mary, who was already
+bending with self-forgetful devotion above her mother's pillow, and
+before Mr. Sinclair could answer he was gone.
+
+All was again silent in that deserted suburb, and for long hours nothing
+disturbed the solemn stillness of the chamber of death, save the low sob
+or earnest prayer of parting love, though sounds of tumult had not
+ceased wholly in the village. The invaders had been interrupted in their
+work of destruction by an alarm from some of their own party of an
+approaching foe. They hurried to their ships with mad impetuosity,
+conscious that their acts deserved only war to the knife, and that they
+were not prepared to cope with any regular force. Only they, who, like
+Captain Percy, had held themselves aloof from the brutal barbarities
+which they had striven vainly to prevent, were now composed enough to
+take any steps for the safety of others. To collect those who had
+straggled off was the first business, and while the recall was hastily
+beaten, Captain Percy, selecting a small party of men on whom he could
+depend, went to patrol the more distant quarters of the town. Having
+seen no trace of an enemy on his way to the parsonage, he had somewhat
+hastily concluded the alarm to be false, and therefore did not hesitate,
+before returning with his pistols to Mr. Sinclair, to send forward his
+men in charge of those whom he had found, promising to join them before
+they reached the point of embarcation. Without a thought of danger he
+traversed the silent and deserted streets on his return, and had arrived
+where a single turn would bring him within view of the rallying point of
+his companions in arms, when the sound that met his practised ears told
+of something more than the hurrying tread and mingling voices of
+soldiers rapidly embarking. Had his men been opposed? If so, they should
+not be without a leader--and with that thought he sprang forward. He was
+too late. Already they had fought their way through the band of
+villagers, who, maddened by the desolation of their homes, had gathered
+together such weapons as they could, and led on by one gallant and
+experienced soldier, whom their burning houses had lighted to their aid,
+were seeking to cut off the retreat of some amongst their invaders, and
+thus to revenge those whom they had been unable to protect. Captain
+Percy's men had, as we have said, fought their way through this
+band--not without loss. He now stood alone--one against many--with only
+his good sword to aid, for his pistols he had given to Mr. Sinclair. To
+retreat unobserved was impossible, for his own cry of "Forward--forward,
+my men!" uttered as he rushed to the scene of the just decided contest,
+had betrayed him--to fight against such odds with the faintest hope of
+success was equally impossible, and to yield was an alternative which
+there seemed to be no intention of offering him. In an instant twenty
+swords flashed before his eyes--twenty muskets were pointed at his
+breast. That instant had been his last had not Major Scott, the leader
+of whom we have spoken, sprang forward and placed himself before him.
+Himself a brave and generous soldier, he could not tamely witness such
+butchery; and pale with the terror for another which he had never felt
+for himself, he exclaimed, "Yield yourself, sir, quickly--a moment's
+delay, and I cannot protect you."
+
+Captain Percy's sword was in the hand of his noble foe, who, linking his
+arm in his, turned to face his own band, shouting as he did so,
+"Back--back on your lives--he is my prisoner, and who touches him makes
+me his enemy."
+
+The day had passed with all its exciting incidents. The glow of sunset
+had faded into twilight's soberer hues, and these had deepened into the
+darkness of night. With the darkness silence had settled upon the
+streets of Havre de Grace. They who had trodden, for hours, with burning
+hearts around the sites of their desecrated homes, retired to the house
+of some charitable and more fortunate neighbor, to seek such rest as
+misery may hope. They went with sullen as well as sad brows, and as they
+passed one house in the village they muttered "curses not loud, but
+deep." This was the house in which Major Scott had found a refuge for
+himself and the prisoner, whom all his influence had scarcely been able
+to protect. To remove him from Havre de Grace in the light of day, and
+under the eyes of his infuriated enemies, was too hazardous a project to
+be attempted; and by the advice of some who seemed disposed to second
+his efforts for his safety, he had delayed his departure till night
+should veil the obnoxious features of the British officer.
+
+At the parsonage, death had accomplished his work, and the room in which
+we have already seen Mr. Sinclair, bears the solemn impress of his
+presence. Beside the bed on which the lifeless limbs have been composed
+with tender care, the pastor kneels. His prayer is no longer, "Let this
+cup pass from me"--he is struggling for power to say, "Father, not my
+will, but Thine be done!" In an upper room lies Mary Sinclair. Tears are
+falling fast as summer rain-drops from her closed eyes; but she utters
+neither sob nor moan, and by the dim light of the shaded lamp she seems
+to the two women, who, with well-meant but officious kindness, have
+insisted on watching with her through the night, to sleep. A slight
+noise in the street causes one of these women to start, and she whispers
+to the other, "I am 'feard of every thing to-night--the least noise puts
+me all of a trimble, for I'm thinking of my Jack. He's gone to guard
+that British soger, and I shouldn't wonder if he had a skrimmage about
+him before morning."
+
+"And I must say, Miss Dunham, if he did, it would be nothin' more than
+them deserves us would go for to guard them cruel British."
+
+"But they do say, Miss Caxton, that this Capin--for Jack says he is a
+Capin--was better than the rest--that he took the part of our people
+every where when he found there wasn't any fair fight, and that he was
+drivin' his men to the ships when we caught him."
+
+"Them may believe that that will, but for my part I think that it must
+be a poor, mean speritted American that will hold guard over one of them
+British----"
+
+"Not so mean speritted as you think perhaps," said Jack's mother with a
+flushed face.
+
+"Well, I must say, Miss Dunham, I never thought Jack would do such a
+thing--if I had----"
+
+Miss Caxton stopped abruptly, but her companion would hear the
+whole--"Well ma'am, if you had--what if you had?"
+
+"Why, then, Miss Dunham, I shouldn't have been so well pleased to see
+him keepin' company with my Sarah--but after this, of course, that's at
+an end."
+
+"May be, Miss Caxton, you may think to-morrow mornin' that it would have
+been just as well to wait till the night was gone before you said
+that--when you see the British Capin hanging by the neck in his fine
+regimentals, and hear that his guard were the men that did it--as I know
+they've sworn to do--you may think after all they an't so mean
+speritted."
+
+"Miss Dunham! if they'll do that, I'll unsay every word I've said, and
+proud enough I would be to call one of 'em my son-in-law--but now do
+tell me all about it--she's asleep you see," glancing at Mary Sinclair,
+"and there an't nobody to hear."
+
+"Why, there an't much to tell. You see the Major wouldn't give way any
+how at all about this here man--so, as they didn't want to fight _him_,
+they agreed that some of the real true blues who an't afeard of nothin',
+should seem to help the Major and persuade him to keep the man here till
+late in the night, and that they would guard him--but they were to take
+care to have the key of his room, and when the Major goes there he'll
+find it empty, or at best only a bloody corpse there. They'll hang him
+if they can get him out of the window without too much noise, but if
+there's any danger of his waking the Major with his screeching, they'll
+stop his voice quick enough."
+
+Any further conversation between these discreet watchers was prevented
+by a sudden movement on the part of Mary Sinclair. Springing from her
+bed she was hastening to the door when her steps were arrested.
+
+"Dear me, Miss Mary! where are you going? Now do lie down again, my dear
+young lady!--be patient--it's the Lord's will, you know." Such were the
+remonstrances of her officious attendants, while, one on either side,
+they strove to lead her back again, but Mary persisted.
+
+"I must go to my father, Mrs. Dunham, pray let me go, Mrs. Caxton, I
+must speak to my father."
+
+"Well, then, my good young lady, just put your wrapping gown around you
+first, and put your feet in these slippers."
+
+Mary complied silently, and then was suffered to proceed. Rapidly she
+flew to her father's room--it was unoccupied, and a glance at his bed
+showed her that it had not been disturbed. Mary was at no loss to
+conjecture where she should find her father--but as she approached
+_that_ room her steps grew slower, lighter--she was treading on holy
+ground. With difficulty she nerved herself to turn the latch of the
+door, and in an awed whisper she entreated her father to come to her.
+Mr. Sinclair rose from his knees, but he lingered a moment to cast one
+look on that still lovely face, to press his lips to that cold brow, and
+then, reverently veiling it, he approached his daughter.
+
+"Come quickly, papa!--not a moment is to be lost if you would save him
+from death, and such a death--oh, papa, papa!--it may be even now too
+late."
+
+Her tale was rapidly told, and before it was concluded Mr. Sinclair was
+ready for action.
+
+"But the house, Mary, what house is he in?"
+
+This Mary could not tell, but rapidly ascending the stairs to her room,
+Mr. Sinclair obtained from the two gossips the information he sought.
+Startled as they were by his appearance, they reverenced the rector too
+much to question his designs. Leaving his daughter to forget even her
+own heavy sorrow in the imminent danger of another--of one whom, without
+any very satisfactory reason, she as well as Mr. Sinclair had at once
+concluded to be her deliverer of the morning--let us follow his steps.
+
+The church clock tolled eleven as Mr. Sinclair passed, and the sound
+made his fleet movements fleeter still. Street after street was
+traversed without a voice or tread, save his own, breaking the stillness
+of the night. At length he reached the point of the day's devastations.
+Dismantled and roofless houses, from which a dull glimmer showed that
+the fire was not yet wholly extinguished, were seen rising here and
+there, while in intervening spaces a charred and smouldering heap alone
+gave evidence that man had had his dwelling there. A rapid glance as he
+passed without a pause over this ground told its desolation. But
+see--what object meets his eye, and causes every nerve to thrill with
+apprehension! From the midst of one of those blackened heaps a single
+post shoots up--wildly Mr. Sinclair casts his eyes upward to its
+summit--gracious heaven! is he too late? To that post, about twenty feet
+from the ground, a cross-piece is attached, to which a rope has been
+secured, and from that rope a dark object hangs motionless. Sick with
+horror he stops--he gazes--no! it is no illusion--dimly defined against
+the star-lit sky, his eye, dilated by terror, traces the form of man,
+and fancy supplies the traits of him who stood before him but a few
+hours since in all the flush of manhood--every moment replete with
+energy, every look full of proud resolve and generous feeling. With a
+searching glance Mr. Sinclair looks around for the murderers--but they
+are gone--again, his strangely fascinated eye turns to that object of
+horror. Is it the agitation of a death struggle which causes it now to
+swing to and fro in the dusky air? The thought that life may not yet be
+extinct gives him new strength--he runs--he flies to Major Scott's
+lodgings, for from him alone is he secure of aid in his present purpose.
+
+As Mr. Sinclair approached the house in which Major Scott had found
+accommodations for himself and his prisoner, he found himself no longer
+in darkness. More than one burning torch threw a lurid light upon the
+scene, while the men who held them, and perhaps as many as twenty more
+stood clustered together, near the house, against which some of them
+were engaged in elevating a ladder. In what service that ladder might
+have been last used Mr. Sinclair shuddered to think. Perfect stillness
+reigned in this party. Their few orders were given in whispers.
+
+Keeping cautiously in shadow, and moving with stealthy steps, Mr.
+Sinclair passed them and reached the house. Even when there, he had
+little hope of making Major Scott hear him without alarming them, and he
+could not doubt that they would do every thing in their power to
+frustrate his object. But Heaven favored his merciful design--he
+touched the door and found it ajar. All was dark as midnight within it,
+and he had scarcely taken a step when he stumbled against a man whose
+voice sounded fiercely even in the low whisper in which he ejaculated,
+"D--n you. Do you want to wake the Major? Don't you see you're at his
+room door?"
+
+"I see now, but it was so dark at first," whispered Mr. Sinclair in
+reply--adding with that quickness of perception and readiness of
+invention which danger supplies to some minds--"I have come to watch
+him--you are wanted."
+
+The man obeyed the intimation, and he had no sooner turned away than Mr.
+Sinclair laid his hand upon the latch of the door which had been
+indicated as Major Scott's. It yielded to his touch, and with a quick
+but cautious movement he entered the room, and closed the door behind
+him. Cautious as he was, the soldier's light sleep was broken, and he
+exclaimed hurriedly, "Who's there?"
+
+Mr. Sinclair's communication was made in a hasty whisper, and Major
+Scott only heard enough to know that his prisoner was in danger. Of Mr.
+Sinclair's worst suspicions he did not even dream when, starting to his
+feet, half dressed, as he had thrown himself on the bed, he snatched his
+pistols from under his pillow, and exclaiming to Mr. Sinclair, "Follow
+me, sir," hurried to the scene of action, the room of Captain Percy. Mr.
+Sinclair followed with rapid steps.
+
+In one respect the conspirators had been disappointed--they had not
+obtained the key of Captain Percy's room, for being now a prisoner on
+parole, he was subject to no confinement. He had, however, locked the
+door of his room himself, to guard against the incursion of curiosity
+rather than of hostility; but the lock was none of the strongest--a
+single vigorous application of Major Scott's foot to the door started
+the screws which held it, and a second burst it off and threw the
+entrance open before him. As Mr. Sinclair glanced forward, "Thank God!"
+burst from his lips, to the no small surprise of Major Scott, who saw
+little cause for gratitude in finding the object of his solicitude
+retreating, sword in hand, towards the door, while several athletic men,
+their faces dark with hate, were already pressing dangerously upon him,
+and others were crowding in at the opened window. The impetuous rush of
+his friends freed Captain Percy for a moment from his assailants, but
+they returned fiercely to the charge, too furious now to postpone their
+revenge even to their deference for Major Scott. Vain were Mr.
+Sinclair's entreaties to be heard, till their advance was stayed by the
+sight of Major Scott's firearms--weapons with which they had not
+furnished themselves, considering them useless in an enterprise to whose
+complete success silence was essential. Then first they listened to him
+as he exclaimed, "This man is innocent, and if you shed his blood it
+will call to Heaven for vengeance. I saw him myself this day oppose
+himself to two of his own countrymen to save a defenceless woman from
+injury. That woman was my daughter--some of you know her well--ah,
+Thompson! you may well hang your head--would you slay the deliverer of
+her whose good nursing saved the life of your motherless child?--Wilson,
+it was but last week that she sat beside your dying mother, and soothed
+and comforted her--but for this good and brave man she would now have
+been with her in heaven."
+
+It was only necessary to gain a hearing for such words to produce an
+influence on the rash, but not cruel men whom Mr. Sinclair addressed,
+and scarcely half an hour had passed since their entrance into the room,
+when they offered their hands in pledge of amity to him whose life they
+had come to seek. As a proof of their sincerity, they advised Major
+Scott no longer to delay his departure from the town, and some of them
+volunteered to accompany him as a guard to his country-seat.
+
+"You have saved my life," said Captain Percy, as he shook hands with Mr.
+Sinclair at parting.
+
+"And you have preserved for me all, except my duties, for which I can
+now desire to live," answered Mr. Sinclair with emotion: then turning to
+Major Scott, he added, "as soon as you consider it safe, you will, I
+hope, bring Captain Percy to visit us. In the mean time, Captain Percy,
+remember that the stranger and the prisoner are a clergyman's especial
+care, and suffer yourself to want nothing which I can do for you. By-the
+by," and he took Major Scott aside and whispered him.
+
+"Give yourself no concern about that, my dear sir," said Major Scott in
+reply, "I will attend to it."
+
+He did attend to it, and Captain Percy's drafts on his captor were
+promptly met, till he was able to open a communication with the British
+commander.
+
+In as quiet a manner as possible Major Scott and Captain Percy moved off
+from the hotel, and were met in the suburbs by their volunteer guard,
+while another party of the men whom he had thus saved from a great
+crime, attended Mr. Sinclair to his home. As he entered the area of the
+smouldering ruins his eye sought the object lately viewed with so much
+horror. He had scarcely glanced at it, when one of his companions
+stepped up and disengaged a dark cloak from the noose already prepared
+for its expected victim--"I knew no one would steal it from the
+gallows," said the man, as he threw it over his shoulders. Mr. Sinclair
+smiled to think how easily imagination had transformed that harmless
+object into the fair proportions of a man.
+
+Nothing more was heard of Captain Percy for weeks--dreary weeks to many
+in Havre de Grace--melancholy weeks to the inmates of the parsonage, who
+missed at every turn the familiar step and voice which had been life's
+sweetest music to their hearts. At length Mr. Sinclair received a note
+from Major Scott, announcing his own approaching departure to the army
+on our northern frontier, and requesting permission for Captain Percy
+and himself to call on Mr. and Miss Sinclair. Permission was given--the
+call was made, and they who had met only in scenes of terror and dismay,
+amidst flushing looks and fierce words, now greeted each other with
+gentlest courtesy among sounds and sights of peace. The call was
+succeeded by a visit of some days, and this by one of weeks, till at
+last it seemed to be understood that the parsonage was to be the home of
+Captain Percy while awaiting the exchange which Major Scott had promised
+to do all in his power to expedite. His society was at the present time
+peculiarly pleasing to Mr. Sinclair, who was diverted from his own sad
+thoughts by the varied intelligence of the soldier and traveller in many
+lands. Mary Sinclair had been unable to meet her deliverer without a
+thrill of emotion which communicated an air of timidity to her manner,
+whose usual characteristic was modest self-possession. Captain Percy, at
+thirty-five, had outlived the age of sudden and violent passion, but he
+had not outlived that of deep feeling. A soldier from boyhood, he had
+visited almost every clime, and been familiar with the beauties of
+almost every land, yet in this lovely and gentle girl, whom he had
+guarded from ill, and whom he now saw in all the pure and tender
+associations of her home, blessing and blessed, there was something
+which touched his heart more deeply than he liked to acknowledge even to
+himself. Again and again when he saw the soft, varying color that arose
+to her cheek at his sudden entrance, or heard the voice in which she was
+addressing another, sink into a more subdued tone as she spoke to him,
+did he take his hat and wander forth, that he might still in solitude
+his bosom's triumphant throb, and reason with himself on the folly of
+suffering his affections to be enthralled by one from whom, ere another
+day passed, he might be separated by orders which would send him
+thousands of miles away, and detain him, perhaps, for years.
+
+"If I thought her feelings were really interested," he would say to
+himself at other times--"but nonsense--how can I be such a coxcomb--all
+she can feel for me is gratitude."
+
+This last sentiment was echoed by Mary Sinclair, who, when
+self-convicted of unusual emotion in Captain Percy's presence, ever
+repeated, "It is only gratitude."
+
+One evening Mr. Sinclair retired after tea to his study, leaving his
+daughter and his guest together. He had not been gone long when a
+servant entered with the letters and papers just brought by the
+semi-weekly mail, which conveyed to the inhabitants of Havre de Grace
+news of the important events then daily transpiring in distant parts of
+the country. The only letter was a somewhat bulky one for Captain Percy.
+Mary received the papers and commenced reading them, that she might
+leave her companion at liberty. Had she been looking at him she would
+have seen some surprise, and even a little annoyance in his countenance
+as his eyes rested on the seals of his dispatch. He opened it, and the
+annoyance deepened. He read it more than once. Minutes passed in perfect
+silence, and Mary began to wonder what correspondent could so deeply
+interest him. A heavy sigh made her look up. His letter lay open on the
+table before him, but he had evidently long ceased to read, for his arm
+rested upon it, while his eyes were fixed with an expression at once
+intent and mournful on her. Mary thought only of him as she said, "I
+hope you have no painful intelligence there, Captain Percy."
+
+"I suppose I ought to consider it very joyful intelligence--I am no
+longer a prisoner--I have been exchanged, and"--he hesitated, looked
+away, then added rapidly--"I am ordered immediately to join my regiment
+in Canada."
+
+A quick drawing of the breath, as though from sudden pain, met his
+ear--his heart beat quickly, but he would not embarrass her by a glance.
+There was a slight rustling of her dress, and turning he saw that she
+had risen, and with one hand pressed upon the table for support, was
+advancing to the door. Falteringly, one--two--three steps were taken,
+and completely overcome, pale and ready to faint, she sank upon a sofa
+near her. He sprang forward, but she motioned him away, and covering her
+face with her hands, burst into tears--tears of shame as well as of
+sorrow. For an instant he stood irresolute--but only for an instant,
+when bending over her, he whispered, "Dare I hope that you sympathize
+with me, Mary--that the feeling which made even liberty painful to me
+since it separates me from you, is not confined to my own bosom?"
+
+Mary's sobs ceased--but she spoke not--moved not.
+
+"Answer me, dear Mary--remember I have little time to woo, for my orders
+admit of no delay in their execution--I must leave you to-morrow. Rise
+then above the petty formalities of your sex, and if I may indeed hope
+ever to call you mine, let me do so this night--this hour--your father
+will not, I think, fear to commit you to my tenderness."
+
+Mary uncovered her face, and raised her eyes for an instant to his, with
+an expression so confiding that he thought his suit was won, and
+pressing her hand to his lips, he said, "That glance tells me that you
+are my own, Mary. My life shall prove my gratitude--but now I must seek
+your father--_our_ father--will you await us here?"
+
+"I have something to say to you--sit down and hear me," said Mary, in a
+voice which she strove in vain to raise above a whisper.
+
+He placed himself beside her on the sofa, still clasping the hand he had
+taken, and with a voice faltering and low at first, but gathering
+strength as she proceeded, Mary resumed:--"I will not attempt--I do not
+wish to deny that you have read my heart aright--that--that you who
+saved me are--are--" a lover's ear alone could detect the next
+words--"very dear to me--but I cannot--I think I ought not----"
+
+She paused, and Captain Percy said, "You are not willing to intrust your
+happiness to one so lately known."
+
+"Oh, no! you mistake my meaning--I can have no doubt of you--no fear for
+my own happiness--but my father--who will care for him if I, his
+daughter, his only child, thus give myself to another at the very time
+that he needs me most?"
+
+"I will not take you from him--at least not now, Mary--give me but the
+right to call you mine, and I will leave you here in your own sweet
+home--not again, I trust, to be visited by war--till peace shall leave
+me at liberty to return to England with my bride--my wife."
+
+He would have clasped her to him as he named her thus, but Mary
+struggled almost wildly to free herself, exclaiming, "Oh! plead not thus
+lest I forget my father in myself--my duty in love--the forgetfulness
+would be but short--I should be unhappy even at your side, when I
+thought of the loneliness of heart and life to which I had condemned
+him."
+
+"But he should go with us--he should have our home. It will be a simple
+home, Mary--for though I come of a lordly race, I inherit not their
+wealth--but it will be large enough for our father."
+
+"Kind and generous!" exclaimed Mary, as she suffered her fingers to
+clasp the hand in which they had hitherto only rested, "would that it
+might be so--but that were to ask of my father a sacrifice greater even
+than the surrender of his daughter--the sacrifice of his sense of duty
+to the people who have chosen him as their spiritual father--and to whom
+he considers himself bound for life."
+
+Captain Percy remained silent long after she had ceased to speak, with
+his eyes resting on her downcast face. At length in low, sad tones, he
+questioned, "And must we part thus?"
+
+Mary's lips moved, but she could not speak.
+
+"I will not ask you to remember me, Mary," he resumed, "for if
+forgetfulness be possible to you, it will perhaps be for your happiness
+to forget--yet--pardon me if I am selfish--I would have some little
+light amidst the darkness gathering around my heart--may I hope that had
+no duty forbidden you would have been mine?"
+
+She yielded to his clasping arm, and sinking on his bosom, murmured
+there, "Yours--yours ever and only--yours wholly if I could be yours
+holily."
+
+From this interview Mary retired to her chamber, and Captain Percy
+sought his host in his study. After communicating to Mr. Sinclair the
+contents of the dispatch he had just received, he continued, "I must in
+consequence of these orders leave you immediately--but before I go I
+have a confession to make to you. You will not wonder that your lovely
+daughter should have won my heart; but one hour since, I could have said
+that I had never yielded for an instant to that heart's suggestions--had
+never consciously revealed my love, or endeavored to excite in her
+feelings which, in my position and the present relations of our
+respective countries, could scarcely fail to be productive of pain. I
+can say so no longer. The moment of parting has torn the veil from the
+hearts of both--she loves me,"--there was a joyous intonation in Captain
+Percy's voice as he pronounced these last words. He was silent a moment
+while Mr. Sinclair continued to look gravely down--then suddenly he
+resumed--"Pardon my selfishness--I forget all else in the sweet thought
+that I am loved by one so pure, so gentle, so lovely. But though I have
+dared without your permission to acknowledge my own tenderness, and to
+draw from her the dear confession of her regard, there my wrong has
+ended--she has assured me that she could never be happy separated from
+you, and that you are wedded to your people." Mr. Sinclair shaded with
+his hand features quivering with emotion. "At present," continued
+Captain Percy, "these feelings, which are both of them too sacred for me
+to contest, place a barrier between us, and I have sought from her no
+promise for the future--if she can forget me--" Captain Percy paused a
+moment, then added abruptly--"may a happier destiny be hers than I could
+have commanded--but, sir, the time may come when England shall no longer
+need all her soldiers--an orphan and an only child, I have nothing to
+bind me to her soil--should I seek you then, and find your Mary with an
+unchanged heart, will you give her to me?--will you receive me as a
+son?"
+
+"Under such circumstances I would do so joyfully," Mr. Sinclair replied,
+"yet I cannot conceal from you now that I grieve to know that my
+daughter must wear out her youth in a hope long deferred at best,
+perhaps never to be realized."
+
+Both gentlemen were for a few minutes plunged in silent thought. Captain
+Percy arose from his seat--walked several times across the room, and
+then stopping before the table at which Mr. Sinclair was seated, resumed
+the conversation.
+
+"Had I designedly sought the interest with which your daughter has
+honored me," he said, "your words would inflict on me intolerable
+self-reproach, but I cannot blame myself for not being silent when
+silence would have been a reproach to her delicacy and a libel on my own
+affection. Now, however, sir, I yield myself wholly to your cooler
+judgment and better knowledge of her nature, and I will do whatever may
+in your opinion conduce to her happiness, without respect to my own
+feelings. If you think that she can forget the past, and you desire that
+she should"--his voice lost its firmness and he grasped with violence
+the chair on which he leaned--"I will do nothing to recall it to her
+memory. It is the only _amende_ I can make for the shadow I have thrown
+upon her life--dark indeed will such a resolve leave my own."
+
+"It would cast no ray of light on hers. Be assured her love is not a
+thing to be forgotten--it is a part of her life."
+
+"And it shall be repaid with all of mine which my duties as a soldier
+and subject leave at my disposal. Do not think me altogether selfish
+when I say that your words have left no place in my heart for any thing
+but happiness--I have but one thing more to ask you--it is a great
+favor--inexpressibly great--but----"
+
+"Nay--nay," Mr. Sinclair exclaimed, gathering his meaning more from his
+looks and manner than from the words which fell slowly from his
+lips--"ask me not so soon to put the irrevocable seal upon a bond which
+may be one of misery."
+
+"If your words be true--if her love be a part of her life, the
+irrevocable seal has been already affixed by Heaven, and I only ask you
+to give your sanction to it, that by uniting her duty and her love, you
+may save her gentle spirit all contest with itself, and give her the
+fairest hope of future joy."
+
+It was now Mr. Sinclair's turn to rise and pace the floor in agitated
+silence--"I know not how to decide so suddenly on so momentous a
+question," he at length exclaimed.
+
+"Suppose you leave its decision to her whom it most concerns. It is for
+her happiness we are most anxious--so entirely is that my object that I
+would not influence her determination even by a look. I will not even
+ask to be present when you place my proposal before her; but I must
+repeat, sir, if you design to do it, there is no time to be lost, for I
+must be on my way to Canada to-morrow."
+
+"So be it then--she shall choose for herself, and Heaven direct her
+choice!"
+
+"Amen!" responded Captain Percy, as Mr. Sinclair turned from the door.
+He heard him ascend the stairs, and ask and receive admission to his
+daughter's room. Then he counted the seconds as they grew into
+minutes--the minutes as they extended to a quarter of an hour--a
+half-hour--and rolled slowly on towards the hour which lacked but little
+to its completion, when his straining ear caught the sound of an opening
+door, and then Mr. Sinclair's sedate step was heard slowly descending
+the stairs and approaching the study. Captain Percy met him at the door,
+and looked the inquiry which he could not speak. Mr. Sinclair replied to
+the look, "She is yours!"
+
+"May I not see her and receive such a confirmation of my hopes from her
+own lips!"
+
+"Not to-night--I have persuaded her to retire at once--she needs repose,
+and we must be early astir. Your marriage must for many reasons be kept
+secret at present, and as I could not, I fear, find witnesses here on
+whose silence I could rely, we will accompany you in the morning to
+Major Scott's, and there, in the presence of his wife and sister, your
+vows shall receive the sanction of the church. You must have some
+preparation to make, and I will bid you good night, for there are
+certain legal preliminaries necessary to the validity of a marriage
+here, to which I must attend this evening--unusual as the hour is."
+
+There was a strange mingling of emotion in the hearts of the lovers as
+they stood side by side within that room in the gray dawn of the next
+morning. In a few hours they were to part, they knew not for what
+distance of space or duration of time. It might be that they should
+never after this morning look upon each other's faces in life; yet, ere
+they parted, there was to be a bond upon their souls which should make
+_them_ ever present to each other, should give them the same interests,
+should, as it were, mould their beings into one. Sacred bond of God's
+own forming, which thus offers the support of a spiritual and
+indissoluble union amidst the separations and changes of this
+ever-varying life! No such strength and peace are to be found in the
+frail and casual ties for which man in his folly would exchange this
+bond of Heaven.
+
+Few words were spoken during the burned breakfast at the parsonage, or
+the drive to Major Scott's, for deep emotion is ever silent. Yet not for
+them were the coy reserves often evinced by hearts on the verge of a
+life-union--the faltering timidity which hesitates to lift the veil from
+feelings in whose light existence is thenceforth to pass. They could not
+forget that they were to part, and even Mary hesitated not to let her
+lover read in her eyes' shadowy depths the tenderness which might soothe
+the parting pang, and whose memory might brighten the hours of
+separation.
+
+Why should we linger on a scene which each heart can depict for itself?
+With solemn tenderness the father pronounced the words which transferred
+to another the right to his own earthly sanctuary--the heart of his
+daughter--and committed to another's keeping--his last and brightest
+earthly treasure. That treasure was soon, however, returned, for a time,
+to his care. The vows of the marriage rite had scarcely been uttered,
+when with one long clasp--one whispered word--one lingering look--the
+disciplined soldier turned from his newly-found joy to his duties. Never
+had Mary seemed more lovely in his eyes or her father's than in that
+moment, when with quivering lips, eyes "heavy with unshed tears," and
+cheeks white with anguish, she yet smiled upon him to the last. Nor did
+her heroic self-control cease when he was gone. Her father was still
+there, and for him she endured and was silent. Only by her languid
+movements and fading color did he learn the bitterness of her soul
+through the weary months of her sorrow. Weary months were they indeed!
+
+One letter she received from Captain Percy, written before he had
+passed beyond the limits of the United States. It breathed the very soul
+of tenderness. "My wife!" he wrote, "what joy is summed in that little
+word--what faith in the present--what promise for the future! I find
+myself often repeating it again and again with a lingering cadence,
+while your gentle eyes seem smiling at my folly." Long, long did Mary
+wear this letter next her heart, and still no other came to take its
+place.
+
+They had parted in 1813, just as the falling leaves came to herald the
+approach of winter. That winter passed with Mary in vain longing and
+vainer hopes. Spring again clothed her home with beauty, but there came
+no spring to her heart. Summer brought joy and gladness to the earth,
+but not to her, and another autumn closed over her in anxious suspense.
+There were moments when she could almost have prayed to have that dread
+silence broken even by a voice from the tomb--other times in which she
+threw herself on her knees in thankfulness that she could yet hope. From
+Major Scott she had heard that Captain Percy's regiment had been sent to
+the South, but of him individually even Major Scott knew nothing. At
+length came the eighth of January, that day of vain triumph on which
+thousands fell in the contest for rights already lost and won--the
+treaty of peace having been signed at Ghent on the twenty-fourth of the
+preceding month. Forgetful of this useless hecatomb at war's relentless
+shrine, America echoed the gratulations of the victors which fell with
+scathing power on the heart of the trembling Mary. How could she hope
+that he, the fearless soldier, had escaped this scene of slaughter! If
+he had, surely he would now find some way to inform her of his safety,
+but weeks passed on, and passed still in silence.
+
+During this long period of suspense, no doubt of the tenderness and
+truth of him she loved had ever sullied Mary's faith. Mr. Sinclair was
+not always thus confiding, and once, on seeing the deadly pallor that
+overspread her face on hearing the announcement of "no letters"--he
+uttered words of keen reproach on him who could so wrong her gentle
+heart.
+
+"Oh, father!" Mary exclaimed, "speak not thus--be assured it is not his
+fault--remember that no license could tempt him to wrong the
+defenceless--think how honorable he was in suppressing his own feelings
+lest their avowal should bring sorrow on us--and when my self-betrayal
+unsealed his lips, how delicate to me, how generous to you was his
+conduct--and who but he could have been so rigid in his observance of a
+soldier's duty, yet so inexpressibly tender as a man! I loved him
+because I saw him thus true and noble--and having seen him thus how can
+I doubt him? He may be no longer on earth, but wherever he is, he is my
+true and noble husband, and you will not again distress me, dear father,
+by speaking as though you doubted him."
+
+"Never," said Mr. Sinclair emphatically, and he never did, though he saw
+her form grow thinner, and her cheek paler every day, and before the
+winter was gone heard that deep, hollow cough from her, which has so
+often sounded the knell of hope to the anxious heart. With the coming on
+of summer this cough passed away, but Mary was oppressed by great
+feebleness and languor--scarcely less fatal symptoms. Still she omitted
+none of those cares essential to her father's comfort--while to the
+poor, the sick, the sorrowing, she was more than ever an angel of mercy.
+With feeble steps and slow she still walked her accustomed round of
+charity, and thus living for duty she lived for God, and had His peace
+shed abroad in her heart, even while sorrow was wearing away the springs
+of her life. She loved to sit alone and send her thoughts forward to the
+future--not of this life, but of that higher life in which there shall
+be no shadow on the brightness of our joy--where love shall be without
+fear--no war shall desolate--no opposing duty shall separate--no death
+shall place its stony barrier between loving hearts. With a mind thus
+occupied, she wandered one day, in the latter part of August, through
+the garden of the parsonage and the yard immediately surrounding the
+church into the little inclosure beyond, within which was the green and
+flowery knoll that marked her mother's last resting-place. As she turned
+again towards her home the sound of a carriage driven rapidly by caused
+her to look towards the road which lay about a hundred yards distant.
+The carriage rushed by, and she caught but a glimpse of a gentleman
+leaning from its window. In another moment a grove of trees had hidden
+both the carriage and its occupant from her sight--yet that glimpse had
+sent a thrill through her whole frame--a mist passed over her eyes, and
+with eager, trembling steps, she proceeded on her way. As she reached
+the garden, she thought she saw her father approaching it from the
+house, but her path led through a summer-house, and when she had passed
+through it he was no longer visible. Every thing in the house wore its
+usual air of quietness on her entrance, and with a feeling of
+disappointment, for which she could not rationally account, she turned
+her steps towards her father's study. As she drew near the door she
+heard his voice--the words, "I dread to tell her," met her ear and made
+her heart stand still. One step more and she was at the door--she looked
+eagerly forward, and with a glad cry sprang into the extended arms of
+her husband.
+
+It was long before any of the party were sufficiently composed for
+conversation. When that time came, Captain or rather Colonel Percy heard
+with surprise that no letters had been received from him since his
+joining the army in Canada. He had written often, but had been obliged
+to send his letters to some distant post-town by his own servant. As he
+had declined accompanying Colonel Percy to America, there was reason to
+suppose that he had suspected the character of the correspondence,
+perhaps had acquainted himself fully with the contents of the letters,
+and had taken effectual means to prevent their reaching their
+destination, with the hope of thus completely removing from Colonel
+Percy's mind every inducement to return to this country. Having received
+a disabling though not dangerous wound at the battle of New Orleans,
+Colonel then Major Percy was sent home with despatches, and was
+immediately ordered to join the army under Lord Wellington, then rapidly
+hastening to repel the attempt of the prisoner of Elba to re-establish
+himself on the throne of France. From this period till the battle of
+Waterloo all private concerns were merged in the interest and the hurry
+of great public events. In that battle Major Percy was again slightly
+wounded. His distinguished bravery was rewarded by his being made again
+the bearer of despatches to England. As it was evident to all that the
+struggle which had called the whole force of Britain into the field was
+now at an end, he had no hesitation in asking and no difficulty in
+obtaining leave of absence from the commander-in-chief, and had lost no
+time in embarking for America.
+
+"As a consequence of peace," said Colonel Percy in conclusion, "a large
+part of our force will be disbanded, and many officers put on half-pay.
+A friend who is very influential at head quarters has undertaken to
+secure me a place on the list of the latter--and henceforth, dear Mary,
+your home is mine!"
+
+"And did you never doubt me during all this long silence?" he asked of
+his happy wife a few days after his return.
+
+"Never," said Mary firmly, and then added in a more playful manner--"if
+I should step into the confessor's chair, could you answer as boldly?"
+
+"I can, Mary--though I never received a line from you, it never occurred
+to me to fear any change in your affection. Our marriage had placed on
+it the seal of duty, and your conduct in relation to your father had
+shown me that that seal you could not easily break."
+
+"Then you did not love me less for not yielding every other
+consideration to the gratification of your wishes?" said Mary,
+endeavoring to speak lightly, but betraying deeper feeling by the slight
+tremor in her voice, and the quick blush mantling in her cheek.
+
+"Love you less!" exclaimed Colonel Percy warmly--"my love had been
+little worthy of your acceptance, dearest, had it been lessened by
+seeing that your principles were paramount even to your affections.
+Happy would it be for all your sex, Mary, did they recognize as the only
+test of a true and noble love, that it increases with the increase of
+esteem, and finds more pleasure in the excellence of its object than in
+its own selfish triumphs."
+
+Ere the winter of 1815 had set in, Mary's rounded form and blooming
+cheek relieved all Mr. Sinclair's apprehension of her consumptive
+tendencies, and proved that her love was indeed, as he had said, "a part
+of her life."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+
+
+The New-Year's day--the day after which the year is no longer new--is
+come and gone; and while sitting here to record its events before I
+sleep, I look back at it with pleasure, chastened by such thoughts as
+the young seldom have. I believe of all such eras the aged may say as
+the poet says of his birthday:
+
+              "What a different sound
+    That word had in my younger years!
+    And every time the chain comes round,
+    Less and less bright the link appears."
+
+To all, these eras mark their progress on the journey of life; but to
+the young they are bright with the promise of a happier future; the
+aged, they direct to the grave of the buried past, and they read on them
+the inscription so often found on the Roman monumental stones, "Siste,
+Viator." Travellers are we from time to eternity, and it is well that we
+should meet with these imperative calls to stand and consider. Cheered
+by the Christian's hope, we can stand; we can look steadily on the past,
+count the lengthening line of these memorials of our dead years, and
+feel that but few more probably lie between us and the river of death,
+yet, strong in the might of Death's great Conqueror, "bate no jot of
+heart or hope."
+
+These are grave though not sad thoughts; too grave to mingle readily
+with the record of mirthful scenes, howsoever innocent may have been the
+mirth. I must, therefore, lay aside my pen, and reserve the description
+of our New-Year for tomorrow.
+
+Our New-Year opened with a cold and cloudless morning, and our party met
+at breakfast with faces as bright as the sun. Gifts were exchanged
+between the parents and children, the brothers and sisters--gifts,
+trifling in themselves, but dear from their association with the
+cherished givers. It was an endearing sight to see the venerable parents
+receiving from their children testimonies of that affectionate
+consideration which the care and tenderness of years had so well
+deserved. Tears were on Mrs. Donaldson's cheeks, and even the Colonel's
+eyes glistened as they clasped one after another of their children to
+their hearts, and invoked on them the blessing of Heaven. From this
+scene Mr. Arlington and I had stood aloof, silent, but not uninterested
+spectators. As the excitement of the principal actors subsided, we
+approached and tendered our hearty congratulations, and received equally
+hearty congratulations in return. Neither had Aunt Nancy been altogether
+forgotten in the mementos of affection provided for the day; and I
+thought Mr. Arlington looked a little envious as Annie, with a kiss,
+threw around my neck a chain woven of her own hair, and suspended to it
+the eye-glass which I always wore. I do not know but his envy may have
+been somewhat allayed by a very handsomely decorated copy of an English
+work on sporting, with which Col. Donaldson presented him. He had
+scarcely found time, however, to admire it, when all attention was
+attracted to Philip Donaldson, who entered with a servant bearing the
+mysterious box to which I have before alluded.
+
+"There is my New-Year present to you, Annie," he said, as he began to
+open it. All drew near and looked on with interest, yet few felt much
+surprise when, the cover being removed, a Greek dress was disclosed.
+From the rich head-dress of silvered muslin to the embroidered slipper,
+all was complete. Annie looked on with a smile as he displayed piece
+after piece--yet her smile wore some appearance of constraint; and when
+Philip, drawing her to him, kissed her cheek and said, "Not a word for
+me, Annie!" with her thanks were mingled some hesitating expressions of
+apprehension that this dress would be very conspicuous, concluding with
+the timid question, "Do you really wish me to wear it this evening,
+Philip?"
+
+"Certainly, Annie. It was in order to show you in this dress that I
+proposed fancy dresses for this evening; you will not disappoint me?"
+
+"Certainly not--at least not willingly--I will wear it. If I wear it
+ungracefully you will forgive me?"
+
+"I am not afraid of that," said Philip, as he glanced at her glowing
+face with a brother's gratified pride.
+
+Miss Donaldson advised that Annie should try on the dress at once, as
+she prudently suggested it might require some alteration.
+
+"Come with me, Aunt Nancy," said Annie as she left the room to comply
+with this advice.
+
+"Come back here and let us see you, Annie, when you have put it on,"
+said Col. Donaldson.
+
+Annie would have passed from the room without an answer, evading the
+compliance which she could not refuse, but the Colonel called her back
+and did not dismiss her till assured that the request, which he knew
+would be regarded as a command, had been heard.
+
+The dress needed no alteration. We afterwards found that Philip had sent
+his friend a measure procured from Annie's maid, and the fit was
+perfect. I am not quite sure that Annie, as she saw the beautiful figure
+reflected in her glass, regretted the command which compelled her to
+show herself to the party awaiting her in the library, to which we had
+withdrawn from the breakfasting room, that we might not interfere with
+the household operations, of which the latter was, at this hour, the
+scene. Yet it was with a little coy delay and blushing timidity that
+she, at length, suffered me to lead her thither.
+
+"Beautiful!"--"I never saw her look so well!"--"I knew it would become
+her!" were the exclamations that greeted her, on her entrance, deepening
+the flush upon her cheek, and calling up a brighter smile to her lips.
+Mr. Arlington alone was silent, but his soul was in his eyes, and they
+spoke an admiration compared to which the words of others were tame.
+
+"My dear Annie," said her mother, as she gazed delightedly upon her,
+"how I wish I had a likeness of you in that dress!--you do look so
+remarkably well in it."
+
+Mr. Arlington stepped forward. "Would you permit me--" to Mrs.
+Donaldson--"Would you do me the favor--" to Annie--"Might I be
+allowed--" with a glance at the Colonel, "to gratify Mrs. Donaldson's
+wish. It should be my New-Year's offering. I would ask only an hour of
+your time--" deprecatingly to Annie. "That would give me an outline
+which I could fill up without troubling you."
+
+Mr. Arlington was so earnest, and Mrs. Donaldson so gratefully pleased,
+that if Annie had any objections, they were completely overborne. Mr.
+Arlington produced his sketching materials, and disposed his subject and
+his light, and then intimated so plainly that the consciousness of the
+observation of others would be fatal to his success, that we withdrew,
+leaving only Philip with a book in a distant corner "to play propriety,"
+as he whispered to me on passing, with a mischievous glance at the
+blushing Annie.
+
+And now the reader doubtless thinks, that in the engraving prefixed to
+this volume, he has a copy of the sketch made on this New-Year's
+morning. In this, however, he deceives himself, for the work of this
+morning amounted to the merest and most unfinished outline, which would
+have stood for Zuleika as well as for Annie Donaldson. Yet instead of
+one hour, Annie generously allowed Mr. Arlington nearly to triple the
+time. How he was occupied during all this time, I cannot tell, though
+that he did not spend all of it in drawing I had ocular demonstration.
+
+Nearly three hours, as I have said, had passed since we left the
+library, when, looking from my window, I saw Philip, returning to the
+house on horseback. Having left in the library a book in which I was
+much interested, I had been waiting somewhat impatiently for Annie's
+appearance, to satisfy me that I might without intrusion return thither
+for it. I now concluded, somewhat too hastily, as it afterwards proved,
+from seeing Philip abroad, that the sitting was at an end, and
+accordingly went for my book. I entered noiselessly, I suppose--I am
+usually quiet in my movements--by a door directly opposite to the seat
+which Mr. Arlington had arranged for himself, and behind the sofa on
+which, at his desire, Annie had been seated when I left her. There still
+was Mr. Arlington's seat, and before it a table with the drawing
+materials and unfinished sketch, but Mr. Arlington was on the sofa
+beside Annie. He was speaking, but in tones so low, that even had I
+wished it, I could not have heard him; but the few seconds for which
+surprise kept me chained to the spot, were sufficient to suggest the
+subject of those murmured words. The reader will probably conjecture
+that subject without aid from me, when I tell him what I saw. Of Annie,
+as she sat with her back to me, I could only see the drooping head and
+one crimson ear and cheek; Mr. Arlington's face was turned to her, and
+was glowing with joy, and as it seemed to me with triumph. Before I had
+turned away, he raised her hand to his lips. I saw that it rested
+unresistingly in his clasp; and gliding through the door by which I
+stood, I closed it softly and left them unconscious of my presence.
+
+The invitations had been given for the early hour of half-past seven,
+and at seven, by previous arrangement, our own party collected in the
+library dressed for the evening. There stood Col. Donaldson in the
+uniform of a continental major, gallantly attending a lady whose fine
+dark eyes and sweet smile revealed Mrs. Seagrove, notwithstanding the
+crimped and powdered hair, patched face, hoop, furbelows, and
+farthingale, which would have carried us back to the days of Queen Anne.
+Mrs. Dudley, in similar costume, was attended by Philip Donaldson, who
+looked a perfect gentleman of the Sir Charles Grandison style in his
+full dress, with bag-wig and sword. Arthur Donaldson, in the graceful
+and becoming costume of the gallant Hotspur, was seated with his Kate by
+his side, and if Kate Percy looked but half as lovely in her bridal
+array as did her present representative, she was well worthy a hero's
+homage. But in the background, evidently shrinking from observation,
+stood a figure more interesting to me than all these--it was our "sweet
+Annie" as Zuleika--our Bride, _not_ of Abydos--leaning on the arm of a
+Selim habited in a costume as correct and as magnificent as her own, yet
+who could scarcely be said to _look_ the character well; the open brow
+of Mr. Arlington, where lofty and serene thought seemed to have fixed
+its throne, and his eyes bright with present enjoyment and future hope,
+bearing little resemblance to our imaginations of the wronged and
+desperate Selim, whose very joy seemed but a lightning flash, lending
+intenser darkness to the night of his despair. I was the last to enter
+the room, and as I approached Mr. Arlington, he presented me with a very
+beautiful bouquet. I found afterwards that he had made the same graceful
+offering to each of the ladies at the Manor, having received them from
+the city, to which he had sent for his Greek dress and Philip's wig. Put
+up in the ingenious cases now used for this purpose, the flowers had
+come looking as freshly as though they had that moment been plucked. The
+bouquet appropriated to Annie differed from all the others. It was
+composed of white camelias, moss-rose buds, and violets. As I was
+admiring it, Annie pointed to one of the rose-buds as being eminently
+lovely in its formation and beautiful in its delicate shading. It was
+beautiful, but my attention was more attracted by the sparkling of a
+diamond ring I had never before seen upon her finger. The diamond was
+unusually large, the antique setting tasteful. With an inconsideration
+of which I flatter myself I am not often guilty, I exclaimed in
+surprised admiration, "Why, Annie, where did you get that beautiful
+ring?"
+
+The sudden withdrawing of the little hand, the quick flushing of cheek,
+neck, brow, told the tale at once; a tale corroborated by the smiling
+glance which met mine as it was turned for a moment on Mr. Arlington.
+Her confusion was beautiful, but he was too generous to enjoy it, and
+strove to bring me back to the flowers.
+
+"Have you ever seen some beautiful verses, translated from the German,
+by Edward Everett I believe, entitled 'The Flower Angels?'" he asked.
+
+"I never did; can you repeat them?"
+
+He answered by immediately reciting the verses which I here give to the
+reader.
+
+
+THE FLOWER ANGELS.
+
+    As delicate forms as is thine, my love,
+    And beauty like thine, have the angels above;
+    Yet men cannot see them, though often they come
+    On visits to earth from their native home.
+
+    Thou ne'er wilt behold them, but if thou wouldst know
+    The houses in which, when they wander below,
+    The Angels are fondest of passing their hours,
+    I'll tell thee, fair lady--they dwell in the flowers.
+
+    Each flower, as it blossoms, expands to a tent
+    For the house of a visiting angel meant;
+    From his flight o'er the earth he may there find repose,
+    Till again to the vast tent of heaven he goes.
+
+    And this angel his dwelling-place keeps in repair,
+    As every good man of his dwelling takes care;
+    All around he adorns it, and paints it well,
+    And much he's delighted within it to dwell.
+
+    True sunshine of gold, from the orb of day,
+    He borrows, his roof with its light to inlay;
+    All the lines of each season to him he calls,
+    And with them he tinges his chamber walls.
+
+    The bread angels eat, from the flower's fine meal,
+    He bakes, so that hunger he never can feel;
+    He brews from the dew-drop a drink fresh and good,
+    And every thing does which a good angel should.
+
+    And greatly the flowers, as they blossom, rejoice
+    That they are the home of the angel's choice;
+    And again when to heaven the angel ascends,
+    The flower falls asunder, the stalk droops and bends.
+
+    If thou, my dear lady, in truth art inclined,
+    The spirits of heaven beside thee to find,
+    Reflect on the flowers and love them moreover,
+    And angels will always around thee hover.
+
+    A flower do but plant near thy window-glass,
+    And through it no spirit of evil can pass;
+    When thou goest abroad, on thy bosom wear
+    A nosegay, and trust me an angel is near.
+
+    Do but water the lilies at break of day,
+    For the hours of the morn thou'lt be whiter than they;
+    Let a rose round thy bed night-sentry keep,
+    And angels will rock thee on roses to sleep.
+
+    No frightful dreams can approach thy bed,
+    For around thee an angel his watch will have spread;
+    And whatever visions thy Guardian, to thee,
+    Permits to come in, very good ones will be.
+
+    When thus thou art kept by a heavenly spell,
+    Shouldst thou now and then dream that I love thee right well;
+    Be sure that with fervor and truth I adore thee,
+    Or an angel had ne'er set mine image before thee.
+
+The visitors soon began to arrive. There were among them some amusing
+characters, so well supported as to give rise during the evening to many
+entertaining scenes; but to me this was the group and this the incident
+of the evening. Not a group or an incident for prurient curiosity or
+frivolous jest, but for an earnest and reverent recognition of that
+beautiful law imposed on Nature by her Great Author, by which the feeble
+delight in receiving, and the strong in giving support--that law by
+which a pure and self-abnegating affection is made the source of life in
+all its commingling relations--of its duties and its sympathies--its
+joys and its sorrows--of its severest probation and its loftiest
+development.
+
+It was in the solemnity of spirit, engendered by thoughts like these,
+that I stood at the window of my room, looking forth upon the still and
+moonlit night, long after our friends had left us. My door opened softly
+and Annie glided in, and ere I was aware of her presence, was standing
+beside me with her head resting on my shoulder. A tear was on the cheek
+to which I pressed my lips. A few whispered words told me whence the
+ring came--but not for the public are the pure, guileless confidences of
+that hour.
+
+Our holiday festivities were over, and the next day the Christmas Guests
+departed. They had stepped aside awhile from the dusty thoroughfares on
+which they were accustomed to pursue their several avocations, for the
+interchange of friendly sympathy with each other, and the offering of
+grateful hearts to Heaven, and now they were returning, cheered and
+strengthened to their allotted work. Reader, go thou and do likewise
+
+    "Like a star
+    That maketh not haste,
+    That taketh no rest,
+    Let each be fulfilling
+    His God-given best."
+
+THE END.
+
+
+
+
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+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 1: I know not the author of this beautiful hymn. It will be
+found in a collection of great merit, called "Songs of the Night."]
+
+[Footnote 2: For this sketch, which for beauty of description, and wild,
+thrilling interest, will compare favorably with any known to me, I am
+indebted to my friend, Mr. C. Whitehead. M. J. Mc.]
+
+[Footnote 3: Plato calls Truth the body of God, and Light His shadow.]
+
+[Footnote 4: These lines were extracted from a satirical poem published
+many years since, under the title of "The Devil's Progress."]
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's Evenings at Donaldson Manor, by Maria J. McIntosh
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+<pre>
+
+Project Gutenberg's Evenings at Donaldson Manor, by Maria J. McIntosh
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Evenings at Donaldson Manor
+       Or, The Christmas Guest
+
+Author: Maria J. McIntosh
+
+Release Date: December 4, 2006 [EBook #20018]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK EVENINGS AT DONALDSON MANOR ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Ralph Janke and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This book was
+produced from scanned images of public domain material
+from the Google Print project.)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+
+
+<h1>Maria J. McIntosh's Works.</h1>
+<h2><i>PUBLISHED BY D. APPLETON &amp; CO</i></h2>
+
+<hr style='width: 25%;' />
+
+<h4>I.</h4>
+<h2>EVENINGS AT DONALDSON MANOR;
+OR, THE CHRISTMAS GUEST.</h2>
+
+<h3>BY MARIA J. McINTOSH.</h3>
+
+<p class='center'><i>Illustrated with Ten Steel Engravings, 8vo., cloth, gilt edges, $3; morocco, $4.</i></p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>"The whole sparkle with strokes of pleasantry and lively criticism, and ever and
+anon reveal most delightful pictures of fireside groups. A high-toned morality pervades
+the whole. We feel sure that the book will be a general favorite."&mdash;<i>Commercial Advertiser.</i></p>
+
+<p>"It is a book that parents may buy for their children, brothers for their sisters, or
+husbands for their wives, with the assurance that the book will not only give pleasure,
+but convey lessons of love and charity that can hardly fail to leave durable impressions
+of moral and social duty upon the mind and heart of the reader."&mdash;<i>Evening Mirror.</i></p></div>
+
+
+<h4>II.</h4>
+
+<h2>WOMAN IN AMERICA;
+HER WORK AND HER REWARD.</h2>
+
+<h3>BY MARIA J. McINTOSH.</h3>
+
+<p class='center'><i>One Volume, 12mo., paper covers, 50c.; cloth, 75c.</i></p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>"We like this work exceedingly, and our fair countrywomen will admire it still more
+than we do. It is written in the true spirit, and evinces extensive observation of society,
+a clear insight into the evils surrounding and pressing down her sex, and a glorious determination
+to expose and remove them. Read her work. She will win a willing way to
+the heart and home of woman, and her mission will be found to be one of beneficence
+and love. Truly, woman has her work and her reward."&mdash;<i>American Spectator.</i></p>
+
+<p>"We thank Miss McIntosh for her 'Woman in America.' She has written a clever
+book, containing much good 'word and truth,' many valuable thoughts and reflections,
+which ought to be carefully considered by every American lady."&mdash;<i>Protestant Churchman.</i></p></div>
+
+
+<h4>III.</h4>
+
+<h2>CHARMS AND COUNTER-CHARMS.
+</h2>
+<h3>BY MARIA J. McINTOSH.
+</h3>
+<p class='center'><i>One Volume, 12mo., cloth, $1; or in Two Parts, paper, 75c.</i></p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>"This is one of those healthful, <i>truthful</i> works of fiction, which improve the heart
+and enlighten the judgment, whilst they furnish amusement to the passing hour. The style
+is clear, easy and simple, and the construction of the story artistic in a high degree. We
+commend most cordially the book."&mdash;<i>Tribune.</i></p></div>
+
+
+<h4>IV.</h4>
+
+<h2>TWO LIVES; OR, TO SEEM AND TO BE.</h2>
+
+<h3>BY MARIA J. McINTOSH.</h3>
+
+<p class='center'><i>One Volume, 12mo., paper covers, 50c.; cloth, 75c.</i></p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>"The previous works of Miss McIntosh, although issued anonymously, have been
+popular in the best sense of the word. The simple beauty of her narratives, combining
+pure sentiment with high principle, and noble views of life and its duties, ought to win
+for them a hearing at every fireside in our land. We have rarely perused a tale more
+interesting and instructive than the one before us, and we commend it most cordially to
+the attention of all our readers."&mdash;<i>Protestant Churchman.</i></p></div>
+
+
+<h4>V.</h4>
+
+<h2>AUNT KITTY'S TALES.</h2>
+
+<h3>BY MARIA J. McINTOSH.</h3>
+
+<p class='center'><i>A new edition, complete in One Vol., 12mo., cloth, 75c.; paper, 50c.</i></p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>This volume contains the following delightfully interesting stories:  "Blind Alice,"
+"Jessie Graham," "Florence Arnott," "Grace and Clara," "Ellen Leslie; or, the Reward
+of Self Control."</p></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="POPULAR_BOOKS_FOR_DOMESTIC_READING" id="POPULAR_BOOKS_FOR_DOMESTIC_READING"></a>POPULAR BOOKS FOR DOMESTIC READING</h2>
+<h3><b>PUBLISHED BY D. APPLETON &amp; CO.</b></h3>
+
+<p class='center'>&there4; Most of these volumes may be had in cloth, gilt edges, at 25 cts. per vol. extra.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 25%;' />
+
+
+<h3><b>GRACE AGUILAR'S WORKS.</b></h3>
+
+<div class='dbooklist'>
+<p class='pbooklist'>1. HOME SCENES AND HEART STUDIES. 12mo., cloth, 75
+cents; paper cover, 50 cents.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>2. THE DAYS OF BRUCE. 2 vols. 12mo., cloth, $1.50.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>3. THE WOMEN OF ISRAEL. 2 vols. 12mo., clo. $1.50, pap. $1.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>4. THE MOTHER'S RECOMPENSE. 12mo., cloth, 75 cents;
+paper, 50 cents.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>5. THE VALE OF CEDARS; or, the Martyr. 12mo., cloth, 75
+cts.; paper, 50 cts.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>6. WOMAN'S FRIENDSHIP; a Domestic Story. 12mo., cloth,
+75 cts.; paper, 50 cts.</p></div>
+
+
+<h3><b>MRS. ELLIS'S LAST WORK.</b></h3>
+
+<div class="dbooklist">
+<p class='pbooklist'>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;HEARTS AND HOMES; a Story. Two parts bound in 1 vol.
+8vo., cloth, $1.50; paper, $1.</p></div>
+
+
+<h3><b>MISS SEWELL'S WORKS.</b></h3>
+
+<div class="dbooklist"><p class='pbooklist'>1. THE EARL'S DAUGHTER; a Tale. 12mo., cloth, 75 cts.,
+paper, 50 cts.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>2. GERTRUDE; a Tale. 1 vol. 12mo., cloth, 75 cts.; paper, 50 cts.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>3. AMY HERBERT. 1 vol. 12mo., cloth, 75 cts.; paper, 50 cts.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>4. MARGARET PERCIVAL. 2 vols. 12mo., cloth $1.50; paper, $1.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>5. LANETON PARSONAGE. 3 vols. 12mo., clo., $2.25; pap., $1.50.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>6. WALTER LORIMER, with other Tales. Illustrated. 12mo.,
+cloth, 75 cts.; paper, 50 cts.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>7. JOURNAL OF A SUMMER TOUR. 12mo., cloth, $1.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>8. EXPERIENCE OF LIFE. 12mo. (Just ready.) Cloth, 75
+cts.; paper, 50 cts.</p></div>
+
+
+<h3><b>MISS McINTOSH'S WORKS.</b></h3>
+
+<div class="dbooklist">
+<p class='pbooklist'>1. EVENINGS AT DONALDSON MANOR. 12mo., clo., 75 cts.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>2. TWO LIVES; or, To Seem and To Be: a Tale. 12mo., cloth,
+75 cts.; paper, 50 cts.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>3. AUNT KITTY'S TALES. 1 vol. 12mo., clo., 75 cts.; pap., 50 cts.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>4. CHARMS AND COUNTER-CHARMS; a Tale. 1 vol. 12mo.,
+cloth, $1; paper, 75 cts.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>5. WOMAN IN AMERICA. 12mo., cloth 62 cts.; paper, 50 cts.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>6. THE LOFTY AND THE LOWLY. 2 vols. 12mo., cloth.
+(Just ready.)</p></div>
+
+
+<h3><b>JULIA KAVANAGH'S WORKS.</b></h3>
+
+<div class="dbooklist">
+<p class='pbooklist'>1. DAISY BURNS. 1 vol. 12mo., cloth, or paper. (Just ready.)</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>2. MADELEINE; a Tale. 1 vol. 12mo., cloth, 75 cts.; paper, 50 cts.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>3. NATHALIE; a Tale. 1 vol. 12mo., cloth, $1; paper, 75 cts.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>4. WOMEN OF CHRISTIANITY. 1 vol. 12mo., cloth, 75 cts.</p></div>
+
+
+<h3><b>WORKS BY A.&nbsp;S. ROE.</b></h3>
+
+<div class="dbooklist">
+<p class='pbooklist'>1. TO LOVE AND TO BE LOVED. 1 vol. 12mo., cloth, 63 cts.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>2. JAMES MONTJOY. 1 vol. 12mo., cloth, 75 cts.; paper, 62 cts.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>3. TIME AND TIDE. 1 vol. 12mo., 62 cts.; paper, 38 cts.</p></div>
+
+
+<h3><b>LADY FULLERTON.</b></h3>
+
+<div class="dbooklist">
+<p class='pbooklist'>1. GRANTLEY MANOR; a Tale. 1 vol. 12mo., cloth, 75 cts.; paper,
+50 cts.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>2. ELLEN MIDDLETON; a Tale. 1 vol. 12mo., cloth, 75 cts.;
+paper, 50 cts.</p></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="EVENINGS" id="EVENINGS"></a>EVENINGS</h2>
+
+<p class='center'>AT</p>
+
+<h1>DONALDSON MANOR;</h1>
+
+<p class='center'>OR,</p>
+
+<h3>The Christmas Guest.</h3>
+
+
+
+<h3>BY MARIA J. McINTOSH,</h3>
+
+<p class='center'>AUTHOR OF</p>
+
+<p class='center'>"TWO LIVES," "CHARMS AND COUNTER-CHARMS," ETC., ETC.</p>
+
+
+
+<h5>A NEW REVISED EDITION.</h5>
+
+
+<table border='0'><tr><td>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Oh Winter! ruler of the inverted year,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I crown thee king of intimate delights,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fireside enjoyments, homeborn happiness."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+</td></tr></table>
+
+<p class='right-indent'><span class="smcap">Cowper</span>.</p>
+
+<h4>NEW-YORK:<br/>
+D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, 200 BROADWAY,<br/>
+AND 16 LITTLE BRITAIN, LONDON.<br/>
+1853.</h4>
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a class='page' name ='Page_5' id='Page_5' title='5'>&nbsp;</a><a name="PREFACE_TO_THE_ENGLISH_EDITION" id="PREFACE_TO_THE_ENGLISH_EDITION"></a>PREFACE TO THE ENGLISH EDITION.</h2>
+
+
+<p>In Miss McIntosh we fondly and proudly greet a transatlantic
+sister, and as delightedly introduce her, a
+"<span class="smcap">Christmas Guest</span>," to our own home circle. She is
+worthy of all honor and affection.</p>
+
+<p>Miss McIntosh's writings are eminently pure in feeling&mdash;tender,
+graceful, and elegant in manner. Their
+moral, simply and unstrainedly developed, is invariably
+excellent&mdash;generously exciting, stimulating, encouraging
+all the noblest energies of our nature. To use her own
+words, addressed to her friends in America, and with
+equal propriety may they be accepted by the rising generation,
+and by every grade of society, at every period of
+life, in her unforgotten fatherland&mdash;"From the examples
+she will present to them, they may learn that to the
+brave and true and faithful heart, 'all things are possible'&mdash;that
+he who clings to the good and the holy amidst
+temptation and trial, will find peace and light within
+him, though all without be storm and darkness; and
+that in a right understanding and unfaltering perform<a class='page' name ='Page_6' id='Page_6' title='6'>&nbsp;</a>ance
+of duty&mdash;not in the pomps and pleasures of a self-indulgent
+life, lie our true glory and happiness."</p>
+
+<p>Not a tale, not a sketch, not an appeal to the heart
+or to the mind in any form, does our fair sister commit
+to paper, that is not pervaded, though unobtrusively, by
+a strain of the sweetest, gentlest, most cheerful and soul-elevating
+piety; it is hers at once to soothe, to charm,
+and to exhilarate.</p>
+
+<p>Our "<span class="smcap">Christmas Guest</span>" well knows how to furnish
+forth a feast of infinite variety. Few, if any, will
+arise from a perusal of her delightful "word-painting"
+of life, incident, adventure, and character, without being
+wiser, better, happier; without enjoying a more entire
+confidingness in Heaven&mdash;in <span class="smcap">Him</span>, that <i>God of love and
+goodness</i>, whom Christians unite to worship.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">London</span>, December 4, 1850.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a class='page' name ='Page_7' id='Page_7' title='7'>&nbsp;</a><a name="CONTENTS" id="CONTENTS"></a>CONTENTS.</h2>
+
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td>&nbsp;</td><td align='left'>PAGE</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I.</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap"><a href="#INTRODUCTORY">Introductory</a></span>,</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_9">9</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II.</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>"<span class="smcap"><a href="#THE_MAIN_CHANCE">The Main Chance</a></span>,"</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_17">17</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III.</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap"><a href="#THE_CRADLE_SONG">The Cradle-Song; a free translation from K&ouml;rner</a></span>,</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_35">35</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap"><a href="#THE_BROTHERS">The Brothers; or, in the Fashion, and Above the Fashion</a></span>,</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_37">37</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV.</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap"><a href="#LOSS_AND_GAIN">Loss and Gain; or, Hearts versus Diamonds</a></span>,</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_48">48</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V.</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap"><a href="#THE_BIRDS_RELEASE">The Bird's Release. By Mrs. Hemans</a></span>,</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_70">70</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap"><a href="#THE_YOUNG_MISANTHROPE">The Young Misanthrope</a></span>,</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_72">72</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI.</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap"><a href="#LIFE_IN_AMERICA">Life in America</a></span>,</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_91">91</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII.</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap"><a href="#SUNDAY">Sunday</a></span>,</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_126">126</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap"><a href="#EVENING_HYMN">Evening Hymn</a></span>,</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_128">128</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a class='page' name ='Page_8' id='Page_8' title='8'>&nbsp;</a><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII.</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap"><a href="#THE_WOLF_CHASE">The Wolf Chase</a></span>,</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_133">133</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX.</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap"><a href="#THE_HISTORY_OF_AN_OLD_MAID">The History of an Old Maid</a></span>,</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_140">140</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X.</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap"><a href="#THE_FAMILY_MEETING">The Family Meeting</a></span>,</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_166">166</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI.</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap"><a href="#THE_DYING_HEBREW">The Dying Hebrew</a></span>,</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_169">169</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>"<span class="smcap"><a href="#ONLY_A_MECHANIC">Only a Mechanic</a></span>,"</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_172">172</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_XII">CHAPTER XII.</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap"><a href="#LOVE_AND_PRIDE">Love and Pride</a></span>,</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_196">196</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">CHAPTER XIII.</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap"><a href="#THE_TEST_OF_LOVE">The Test of Love. A Story of the Last War</a></span>,</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_227">227</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td>&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">CHAPTER XIV.</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap"><a href="#THE_FLOWER_ANGELS">The Flower Angels</a></span>,</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_266">266</a></td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a class='page' name ='Page_9' id='Page_9' title='9'>&nbsp;</a><a name="THE" id="THE"></a>THE</h2>
+
+<h2>CHRISTMAS GUEST;</h2>
+
+<p class='center'>OR,</p>
+
+<h2>EVENINGS AT DONALDSON MANOR.</h2>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 25%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a><a href="#CONTENTS">CHAPTER I.</a></h2>
+
+
+<p><a name="INTRODUCTORY" id="INTRODUCTORY"></a>The largest and the most picturesque country-house of all I
+know in America, is the mansion house of my friends, the
+Donaldsons. I would gladly inform the reader of its locality,
+but this Colonel Donaldson has positively prohibited, for a
+reason too flattering to my self-love to be resisted.</p>
+
+<p>"You know, my dear Madam,"&mdash;I give his own words, by
+which I hope the courteous reader will understand that I am
+really too modest even to seem to adopt the flattering sentiment
+they convey&mdash;"You know, my dear madam, that your
+description will be read by every body who is any body, and
+that through it my simple home will become classic ground.
+If I permit you to direct the tourist tribe to it, I shall be
+pestered out of my life when summer comes, by travelling
+artists, would-be poets, and romantic young ladies."</p>
+
+<p>I may not therefore, dear reader, tell you whether this
+pleasant abode be washed by the waves of the Atlantic or by<a class='page' name ='Page_10' id='Page_10' title='10'>&nbsp;</a>
+the turbid current of the Mississippi; whether it be fanned by
+the flower-laden zephyrs of the South, or by the health-inspiring
+breezes of the North. The exterior must indeed have been left
+wholly to your imagination, had I not fortunately obtained a
+sketch from a young friend, an <i>amateur</i> artist, of whom I shall
+have more to say presently. As I could not in honor present
+you with even this poor substitute, as I trust you will consider
+it, for my word-painting, without Colonel Donaldson's consent,
+I have been compelled, in deference to his wish, to divest the
+picture of every thing that would mark the geographical position
+of the place represented. The shape of its noble old trees we
+have been permitted to retain; but their foliage we have been
+obliged to render so indistinctly, that even Linn&aelig;us himself
+would find it impossible to decide whether it belonged to the
+elm of the North when clothed in all its summer luxuriance, or
+to the gigantic live-oak of the South. Even of the house itself
+we have been permitted to give but a rear view, lest the more
+marked features of the landscape in front should hint of its
+whereabouts. As to the figures which appear in the foreground
+of the picture, they are but figments of my young artist
+friend's imagination. One of them you may observe carries
+under the arm a sheaf of wheat, not a stalk of which I assure
+you ever grew on the Donaldson lands.</p>
+
+<p>Even from this imperfect picture of the exterior, you will
+perceive that the house is, as I have said, both large and picturesque.
+Within, the rooms go rambling about in such a
+strange fashion, that an unaccustomed guest attempting to make
+his way without a guide to the <i>chambre de nuit</i> in which he
+had slept only the night before, would be very apt to find himself
+in the condition of a certain bird celebrated in nursery
+rhymes as wandering,</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Up stairs and down stairs<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And in the ladies' chambers.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><a class='page' name ='Page_11' id='Page_11' title='11'>&nbsp;</a>In this house have the Donaldsons lived and died for
+nearly two hundred years, and during all that time they have
+never failed to observe the Christmas with right genuine, old
+English hospitality. Then, their sons and their daughters,
+their men-servants and their maid-servants, and the stranger
+within their gates, felt the genial influence of their gratitude to
+Him who added year after year almost unbroken temporal
+prosperity to the priceless gift commemorated by that festival.
+At many of these <i>r&euml;unions</i> it has been my good fortune to be
+present. Indeed, though only "<span class="smcap">Aunt</span> Nancy," by that courtesy
+which so often accords to the single sisterhood some endearing
+title, as a consolation, I presume, for the more honorable
+one of <span class="smcap">Mrs.</span> which their good or evil fortune has denied
+them, I have been ever received at Donaldson Manor as at my
+own familiar home; nor was it matter of surprise to myself or
+to our mutual friends, when the Col. and Mrs. Donaldson
+named their fourth daughter after me, modifying the old-fashioned
+Nancy, however, into its more agreeable synonyme of
+Annie.</p>
+
+<p>This daughter has been, of course, my peculiar pet. In
+truth, however, she has been scarcely less the peculiar pet of
+father and mother, brothers and sisters, friends and neighbors&mdash;sweet
+Annie Donaldson, as all unite in calling her, and certainly
+a sweeter, fresher bud of beauty never opened to the
+light than my name-child. And yet, reader, it may be that
+could I faithfully stamp her portrait on my page, you would
+exclaim at my taste, and declare there was no beauty in it.
+I will even acknowledge that you may be right, and that there
+is nothing artistically beautiful in the dark-gray eyes, the clear
+and healthy yet not dazzlingly fair complexion, the straight
+though glossy dark-brown hair, and the form, rounded and
+buoyant, but neither tall enough to be dignified nor <i>petite</i>
+enough to be fairy-like. But sure I am that you could not<a class='page' name ='Page_12' id='Page_12' title='12'>&nbsp;</a>
+know the spirit, gentle and playful yet lofty and earnest, which
+looks out from her eyes and speaks in her clear, silvery tones
+and graceful gestures, without feeling that Annie Donaldson is
+beautiful. Nor am I alone in this opinion. My friend Mr.
+Arlington fully agrees with me, as you would be convinced if
+you could see the admiring expression with which he gazes on
+her. As this gentleman cannot plead the Colonel's reason for
+any reserve respecting his place of residence, I shall not hesitate
+to inform the reader that he is a young lawyer of New-York,
+who has preserved, amidst much study and some business,
+the natural taste necessary to the enjoyment of country
+scenes and country sports. During those weeks of summer
+when New-York is deserted, alike by the wearied man of business
+and the <i>ennuy&eacute;</i> idler, Mr. Arlington, instead of rushing
+with the latter to the overcrowded hotels of Saratoga and Newport,
+takes his gun and dog, his pencil and sketch-book, and with
+an agreeable companion, or, if this may not be, some choice
+books, as a resource against a rainy day, he goes to some wild
+spot&mdash;the wilder the better&mdash;where he roves at will from point
+to point of interest and beauty, and spends his time in reading,
+sketching, and&mdash;alas, for human imperfection!&mdash;shooting.
+These vagrant habits first brought him into the neighborhood
+of Donaldson Manor, and he had for two successive summers
+hunted with the Colonel and sketched with the young ladies,
+when he was invited to join their Christmas party in 18&mdash;.
+Here I was introduced to him, and in a few days we were the
+best friends in the world.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Arlington's sketch-book, of which I have already spoken,
+served to elicit one of our points of sympathy. Bound down
+by the iron chain of necessity to that point of space occupied
+by my own land, and that point of time filled by my own life,
+yet with a heart longing for acquaintance with the beautiful
+distant and the noble past, I have ever loved the creations of<a class='page' name ='Page_13' id='Page_13' title='13'>&nbsp;</a>
+that art which furnished food to these longings; and as my
+fortune has denied me the possession of fine <i>paintings</i>, I have
+become somewhat noted in my own little circle for my collection
+of fine <i>engravings</i>. Many of these have peculiar charms
+for me, from their association, fancied or real, with some place
+or person that does interest or has interested me. In the leisure
+of a solitary life, it has amused me to append to these
+engravings a description of the scenes or a narrative of the
+incidents which they suggested to my mind, and for their association
+with which I particularly valued them. Annie was
+well aware of the existence of these descriptions and narratives,
+and, with a pretty despotism which she often exercises over
+those she loves, she insisted that I should surrender them to her
+for the gratification of the assembled party. One condition
+only was I permitted to make in this surrender, and this was,
+that Mr. Arlington should also bring forth his portfolio for inspection,
+and should describe the <i>locale</i> of the scene sketched,
+or relate the circumstances under which the sketches were
+made. A pretty <i>ruse</i> this, my gentle Annie, by which you
+furnished the artist with an opportunity to display to others
+the talents which had charmed yourself. In accordance with
+this compact, the drawings, with their accompanying narratives,
+were produced, and received with such approbation, that
+by the same sweet tyranny which drew them from their hiding-places,
+we have been ordered to send this Christmas Guest to
+bear the simple stories to other houses, with the hope that
+they may give equal pleasure to their inmates.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a class='page' name ='Page_14' id='Page_14' title='14'>&nbsp;</a><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a><a href="#CONTENTS">CHAPTER II.</a></h2>
+
+
+<p>Merrily blazed the wood fire in the huge old chimney of the
+large parlor in which we were accustomed to assemble in the
+evening, at Donaldson Manor, and its light was thrown upon
+faces bright with good-humored merriment, yet not without
+some touch of deeper and more earnest feeling. That party
+would of itself have made an interesting picture. There was
+Col. Donaldson, tall, gaunt, his figure slightly bent, yet evincing
+no feebleness, his curling snow-white locks, his broad bold forehead,
+and shaggy brows overhanging eyes beaming with kindness.
+Beside him sat Mrs. Donaldson, still beautiful in her
+green old age. Her face was usually pale, yet her clear complexion,
+and the bright eyes that looked out from beneath the
+rich Valenciennes border of her cap, redeemed it from the appearance
+of ill health. Her form, stately yet inclining to <i>embonpoint</i>,
+was shown to advantage by the soft folds of the rich and
+glossy satin dress which ordinarily, at mid-day, took the place
+in summer of her cambric morning-dress, and in winter of her
+cashmere <i>robe de chambre</i>. Mrs. Donaldson has a piece of
+fancy netting which she reserves for her evening work, because,
+she says, it does not make much demand upon her eyes.
+This the mischievous and privileged Annie calls "Penelope's
+Web," declaring, that whatever is done on it in the evening is
+undone the next morning. Around the table, on which the
+brightest lights were placed for the convenience of those who<a class='page' name ='Page_15' id='Page_15' title='15'>&nbsp;</a>
+would read or sew, clustered the two married daughters of the
+house&mdash;who always return to their "<i>home</i>," as they still continue
+to call Donaldson Manor, for the Christmas holidays&mdash;Annie,
+Mr. Arlington, and myself. Miss Donaldson, the eldest
+daughter of my worthy friends, is the housekeeper of the
+family, and usually sits quietly beside her mother, somewhat
+fatigued probably by the active employments of her day. The
+two sons of Col. Donaldson, the elder of whom is only twenty-three,
+his sons-in-law, and his grandson, Robert Dudley, a fine
+lad of twelve, give animation to the scene by moving hither
+and thither, now joining our group at the table, now discussing
+in a corner the amusements of to-morrow, and now entertaining
+us with a graphic account of to-day's adventures, of the
+sleighs upset, or the skating-matches won.</p>
+
+<p>Such was the party assembled little more than a week
+before Christmas the last year, when Annie called upon Mr.
+Arlington and myself to redeem the pledges we had given,
+and surrender our portfolios to her. Some slight contention
+arose between us on the question who should first contribute
+to the entertainment of the company; Mr. Arlington exclaiming
+"<i>Place aux Dames</i>," and I contending that there was
+great want of chivalry in thus putting a woman into the front
+of the battle. This little dispute was terminated by the proposal
+that Annie having been blindfolded to secure impartial
+justice, the two portfolios should be placed on the table, and
+she should choose, not only from which of them our entertainment
+should be drawn, but the very subject that should furnish
+it. Mr. Arlington vehemently applauded this proposal, and
+then urged that he must himself tie the handkerchief, as no
+one else, he feared, would make it an effectual blind. Annie
+submitted to his demand, though she professed to feel great indignation
+at his implied doubt of her honesty. No one else,
+we believe, would have taken so much time for the disposal of<a class='page' name ='Page_16' id='Page_16' title='16'>&nbsp;</a>
+this screen, or been so careful in the arrangement of the bands
+of hair over which, or through which, the handkerchief was
+passed; and the touch of no other hand, perhaps, would have
+called up so bright a color to the cheeks, and even to the brow,
+of our sweet Annie. When permitted to exercise her office,
+Annie, to my great pleasure, without an instant's hesitation,
+while a mischievous little smile played at the corners of her
+mouth, placed her hand on Mr. Arlington's portfolio, and drew
+from it a paper, which, on being exhibited, was found to contain
+the pencilled outline of many heads grouped together in
+various positions, some being apparently elevated considerably
+above the others.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, Miss Annie!" exclaimed Mr. Arlington, with considerable
+satisfaction apparent in his voice and manner, "you
+must try again, and I think I must trouble you, ladies, for another
+handkerchief. This seems to me to have been scarcely
+thick enough."</p>
+
+<p>"I appeal to the company," cried Annie, "whether this is
+in accordance with Mr. Arlington's engagement. Was he not
+to accept any thing I should draw from his portfolio as the
+foundation of his sketch?"</p>
+
+<p>"Ay, ay," was responded from every part of the room.</p>
+
+<p>"But pray, my good friends," persisted Mr. Arlington, "observe
+the impossibility of compliance with your demand. How
+can I possibly hope to entertain you by any thing based upon
+that memento of an idle hour in court, which I should long
+ago have destroyed, had I not fancied that I could detect in
+those sketchy outlines&mdash;those mere profiles&mdash;very accurate likenesses
+of the heads for which they were taken?"</p>
+
+<p>"Those heads look as though they might have histories
+attached to them," said Annie, as she bent to examine them
+more narrowly.</p>
+
+<p>"Histories indeed they have," said Mr. Arlington.</p>
+
+<p>"Give them to us," suggested Col. Donaldson.</p>
+
+<p><a class='page' name ='Page_17' id='Page_17' title='17'>&nbsp;</a>"You have them already. These are all men whose histories
+are as well known to the public as to their own families.
+There is the elder K&mdash;&mdash;, at once so simple in heart and so
+acute in mind. Cannot you read both in his face? There is
+his son; and there is D.&nbsp;B.&nbsp;O&mdash;&mdash;, and O.&nbsp;H&mdash;&mdash;, and G&mdash;&mdash;,
+and J&mdash;&mdash;. What can I tell you of any of them that you do
+not know already?"</p>
+
+<p>"Who are these?" asked Annie, pointing to two heads,
+placed somewhat aloof from the rest, and near each other.
+"That older face is so benevolent in its expression, and the
+younger has so noble a physiognomy, and looks with such
+reverence on his companion, that I am persuaded they have a
+history beyond that which belongs to the world. Is it not
+so?"</p>
+
+<p>"It is. Those are Mr. Cavendish and Herbert Latimer.
+They have a history, and I will give it you if you desire it,
+though, thus impromptu, I must do it very imperfectly I fear."</p>
+
+<p>"No apologies," said Col. Donaldson. "Begin, and do
+your best; no one can do more."</p>
+
+<p>"Than <i>my</i> best," said Mr. Arlington, with a smile, "thank
+you. My narrative will have at least one recommendation&mdash;truth&mdash;as
+I have received its incidents from Latimer himself."</p>
+
+<p>Without further preliminary, Mr. Arlington commenced
+the relation of the following circumstances, which he has since
+written out, by Annie's request, at somewhat greater length for
+insertion here, giving it the title of</p>
+
+
+<h3><a name="THE_MAIN_CHANCE" id="THE_MAIN_CHANCE"></a><a href="#CONTENTS">THE MAIN CHANCE.</a></h3>
+
+<p>Herbert Latimer was only twenty when, having passed the
+usual examination, he was admitted, by a special act of the
+legislative assembly of his native State, to practise at the bar.<a class='page' name ='Page_18' id='Page_18' title='18'>&nbsp;</a>
+Young as he was, he had already experienced some of the
+severest vicissitudes of life. His father had been a bold, and
+for many years a successful merchant, and the young Herbert,
+his only child, had been born and nurtured in the lap of wealth
+and luxury. He was only sixteen&mdash;a boy&mdash;but a boy full of
+the noble aspirations and lofty hopes that make manhood
+honorable, when his father died. Mr. Latimer's last illness had
+been probably rendered fatal by the intense anxiety of mind he
+endured while awaiting intelligence of the result of a mercantile
+operation, on which, contrary to the cautious habits of his
+earlier years, he had risked well nigh all he possessed. He did
+not live to learn that it had completely failed, and that his wife
+and child were left with what would have seemed to him the
+merest pittance for their support.</p>
+
+<p>The character and talents of young Latimer were well known
+to his father's friends, and more than one among them offered
+him a clerkship on what could not but be considered as very
+advantageous terms. To these offers Herbert listened with
+painful indecision. For himself, he would have suffered cheerfully
+any privation, rather than relinquish the career which his
+inclinations had prompted, and with which were connected all
+his glowing visions of the future&mdash;but his mother&mdash;had he a
+right to refuse what would enable her to preserve all her
+accustomed elegances and indulgences?</p>
+
+<p>"You must be aware, Master Latimer," said he who had
+made him the most liberal offers, and who saw him hesitating
+on their acceptance, "you must be aware that only my friendship
+for your father could induce me to offer such terms to so
+young a man, howsoever capable. Three hundred dollars this
+year, five hundred the next, if you give satisfaction in the
+performance of your duties, a thousand dollars after that till
+you are of age, and then a share in the business equal to one-fourth
+of its profits&mdash;these are terms, sir, which I would offer to<a class='page' name ='Page_19' id='Page_19' title='19'>&nbsp;</a>
+no one else. Your father was a friend to me, sir, and I would
+be a friend to his son."</p>
+
+<p>"I feel your kindness and liberality, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"And yet you hesitate?"</p>
+
+<p>"Will you permit me, sir, to ask till to-morrow for consideration?
+I must consult my mother."</p>
+
+<p>"That is right, young man; that is right. She knows
+something of life, and will, I doubt not, advise you to close
+with so unexceptionable an offer."</p>
+
+<p>"Whatever she may advise, sir, be assured I will do."</p>
+
+<p>"I have no doubt then, sir, that I shall see you to-morrow
+prepared to take your place in my store. Good morning."</p>
+
+<p>Assuming as cheerful an air as he could, Herbert went from
+this interview to his mother's sitting room. Mrs. Latimer
+raised her eyes to his as he entered, and reading with a mother's
+quick perception the disturbance of his mind, she asked him in
+a tone of alarm, "What is the matter, Herbert?"</p>
+
+<p>"Only a very pleasant matter, mother," said Herbert, with
+forced cheerfulness, which he endeavored to preserve while
+relating the offer just received.</p>
+
+<p>"And would you relinquish the study of the law, Herbert?"
+inquired Mrs. Latimer.</p>
+
+<p>"Not if I could help it, mother; but you know Mr. Woodleigh
+told you that five hundred dollars a year was the utmost
+that he could hope to save for you. If I study law, it must be
+several years before I can add any thing to this sum&mdash;I may
+even be compelled&mdash;&mdash;" The features of Herbert worked,
+tears rushed to his eyes, and he turned away, unable to speak
+the thought that distressed him.</p>
+
+<p>"You speak of what can be saved for <i>me</i>, Herbert&mdash;of what
+<i>you</i> may be compelled to do. Do you suppose that we can
+have separate interests in this question?&mdash;are not your hopes
+my hopes&mdash;will not your success, your triumph, be mine too?<a class='page' name ='Page_20' id='Page_20' title='20'>&nbsp;</a>
+The only consideration for us, it seems to me, is whether the
+profession you have chosen and the prospects open to you in it,
+are worth some present sacrifice."</p>
+
+<p>"They are worth every sacrifice on my part&mdash;but you,
+mother&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Have no separate interest from my child&mdash;I have shared
+all your hopes, all your aspirations, Herbert, and it would cost
+me less to live on bread and water, to dress coarsely, and lodge
+hardly for the next five years, than to yield my anticipations of
+your future success."</p>
+
+<p>Others had felt <i>for</i> Herbert, and had offered to aid him,
+and he had turned from them with a deeper sense of his need
+and diminished confidence in his own powers&mdash;his mother felt
+<i>with</i> him, and he was cheered and strengthened. The offers
+of the friendly merchant were gratefully declined. By the sale
+of her jewels, Mrs. Latimer obtained the sum necessary to meet
+the expenses incident to her son's first entrance on his professional
+studies. She then appropriated three hundred dollars
+of their little income to his support in the city, and withdrew
+herself to the country, where, she said, the remaining two
+hundred would supply all her wants. When Herbert would
+have remonstrated against these arrangements, she reminded
+him that they were intended to accomplish her own wishes no
+less than his. He ceased to remonstrate, but he did what was
+better&mdash;he acted&mdash;and the very first year, by self-denying
+economy and industry, he was enabled to return to her fifty
+dollars of the amount she had allotted to him. The second
+year he did better, and the third year Mrs. Latimer was able to
+return to the city and board at the same house with her son.
+It was only by the joy she expressed at their re-union that
+Herbert learned how painful the separation had been to her.
+She would not waste his strength and her own in vain
+lamentation over a necessary evil. Four years sufficed to<a class='page' name ='Page_21' id='Page_21' title='21'>&nbsp;</a>
+prepare Herbert Latimer for his profession, and through the
+influence of some of his mother's early friends, exerted at her
+earnest request, the legislative act which permitted his entrance
+on its duties, was passed. The knowledge of his circumstances
+had excited a warm interest for him in many minds, and they
+who heard his name for the first time, when he stood before
+them for examination, could not but feel prepossessed in favor
+of the youth, on whose bold brow deep and lofty thoughts had
+left their impress, and in whose grave, earnest eyes the spirit
+seer might have read the history of a life of endurance and
+silent struggle. All were interested in him&mdash;all evinced that
+interest by gentle courtesy of manner&mdash;and almost all seemed
+desirous to make his examination as light as possible&mdash;all save
+one&mdash;one usually as remarkable for his indulgence to young
+aspirants, as for the legal acumen and extensive knowledge,
+which had won for him a large share of the profits and honors
+of his profession. His associates now wondered to find him so
+rigidly exact in his trial of young Latimer's acquirements.</p>
+
+<p>"You were very severe on our young tyro to-day," said a
+brother lawyer, and one on whom early associations and similarity
+of pursuits, rather than of tastes, had conferred the
+privileges of a friend on Mr. Cavendish, as they walked together
+from the court-house.</p>
+
+<p>"I saw that he did not need indulgence, and I gave him an
+opportunity of proving to others that he did not&mdash;but I had
+another and more selfish reason for my rigid test of his
+powers."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Cavendish spoke smilingly, and his friend was emboldened
+to ask&mdash;"And pray what selfish motive could you have
+for it!"</p>
+
+<p>"I wished to see whether he would suit me as a partner."</p>
+
+<p>"A partner!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes&mdash;when a man has lived for half a century, he begins<a class='page' name ='Page_22' id='Page_22' title='22'>&nbsp;</a>
+to think that he may possibly grow old some day, and I would
+provide myself with a young partner, who may take the
+laboring oar in my business when age compels me to lay it
+aside."</p>
+
+<p>"All that may do very well&mdash;I have some thought of doing
+the same myself; but I shall look out for a young man who is
+well connected. Connections do a great deal for us, you know,
+and we must always have an eye to the main chance."</p>
+
+<p>"I agree with you, but we should probably differ about
+what constitutes the main chance."</p>
+
+<p>"There surely can be no difference about that; it means
+with every one the one thing needful."</p>
+
+<p>"And what is, in your opinion, the one thing needful?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why this, to be sure," and Mr. Duffield drew his purse
+from his pocket, and shook it playfully.</p>
+
+<p>"A somewhat different use of the term from that which the
+Bible makes," said Mr. Cavendish.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! let the Bible alone, and let me hear what you think
+of it."</p>
+
+<p>"Pardon me, I cannot let the Bible alone if I tell you my
+own opinions, for from the Bible I learned them."</p>
+
+<p>"It seems a strange book, I must say, to consult for a law
+of partnerships."</p>
+
+<p>"Had you a better acquaintance with it, Duffield, you
+would learn that its principles apply to all the relations of life.
+The difference between us is, that when you estimate man's
+chief object, or as you call it, his 'main chance,' you take only
+the present into view, you leave out of sight altogether the interminable
+future, with its higher hopes and deeper interests,
+and relations of immeasurably greater importance."</p>
+
+<p>"I find it enough for one poor brain to calculate for the
+present."</p>
+
+<p>"A great deal too much you will find it, if you leave out<a class='page' name ='Page_23' id='Page_23' title='23'>&nbsp;</a>
+of your sum so important an item as the relations of that present
+to the future. Depend on it, Duffield, that he makes the most
+for this life, as well as for the next, of his time, his talents, and
+his wealth, who uses them as God's steward, for the happiness
+of his fellow-creatures, as well as for his own."</p>
+
+<p>"And so, for the happiness of your fellow-creatures, you
+are going to give away half of the best practice in the State?"</p>
+
+<p>"I am going to do no such thing. In the first place, I did
+not tell you that I was going to offer young Latimer an equal
+division of the profits of my practice; and for what I may offer
+him I have already taken care to ascertain that he can return
+a full equivalent. His talents need only a vantage-ground on
+which to act, and I rejoice to be able to give him that which
+my own early experience taught me to value."</p>
+
+<p>"Well&mdash;we shall see ten years hence how your rule and
+mine work. I think I shall offer a partnership to young
+Conway&mdash;he is already rising in his profession, and is connected
+with some of our wealthiest families."</p>
+
+<p>"Very well&mdash;we shall see."</p>
+
+<p>Herbert Latimer had nerved himself to endure five, or it
+might be ten more years of profitless toil, ere he should gain a
+position which would make his talents available for more than
+the mere essentials of existence. Let those who have looked
+on so dreary a prospect&mdash;who have buckled on their armor for
+such a combat&mdash;judge of the grateful emotion with which he
+received the generous proposal of Mr. Cavendish. This proposal,
+while it gave him at once an opportunity for the exercise of his
+powers, secured to him for the first year one-fifth, for the two
+following years one-fourth, and after that, if neither partner
+chose to withdraw from the connection, one-half of the profits of
+a business, the receipts of which had for several years averaged
+over ten thousand dollars. Mr. Cavendish soon found that he
+had done well to trust to the gratitude of his young partner for<a class='page' name ='Page_24' id='Page_24' title='24'>&nbsp;</a>
+inducing the most active exercise of his powers. Stimulated by
+the desire to prove himself not unworthy of such kindness,
+and to secure his generous friend from any loss, Herbert
+never overlooked aught that could advance the interests, nor
+grew weary of any task that could lighten the toil of Mr.
+Cavendish.</p>
+
+<p>"Herbert, you really make me ashamed of myself, you are
+so constantly busy that I seem idle in comparison," said Mr.
+Cavendish, as he prepared one day to lay by his papers and
+leave the office at three o'clock. "Pray put away those musty
+books, and bring Mrs. Latimer to dine with us&mdash;this is a f&ecirc;te
+day with us. My daughter, who has been for two months
+with her uncle and aunt in Washington, has returned, and I
+want to introduce her to Mrs. Latimer."</p>
+
+<p>"My mother will come to you with pleasure, I am sure."</p>
+
+<p>"And you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Will come too, if I possibly can. You dine at five?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes&mdash;and remember punctuality is the soul of dinner as
+well as of business. So do not let the charms of Coke upon
+Lyttleton make you forget that fair ladies and hungry gentlemen
+are expecting you." Mr. Cavendish closed the door with
+a smiling face, and Herbert Latimer turned for another hour to
+his books and papers. At a quarter before five he stood with his
+mother in the drawing-room of Mr. Cavendish, and received
+his first introduction to one who soon became the star of
+his life.</p>
+
+<p>Mary Cavendish was not beautiful&mdash;far less could the word
+pretty have been applied to her&mdash;but she was lovely. All that
+we most love in woman, all pure and peaceful thoughts, all
+sweet and gentle affections, seemed to beam from her eyes, or
+to sit throned upon her fair and open brow. She had enjoyed
+all the advantages, as it is termed, of a fashionable education,
+but the influences of her home had been more powerful than<a class='page' name ='Page_25' id='Page_25' title='25'>&nbsp;</a>
+those of her school, and she remained what nature had made
+her&mdash;a warm-hearted, truthful, generous, and gentle girl&mdash;too
+ingenuous for the pretty affectations, too generous for the heartless
+coquetries which too often teach us that the <i>accomplished</i>
+young lady has sacrificed, for her external refinement, qualities
+of a nobler stamp and more delicate beauty. The only
+daughter among several children, she was an idol in her home,
+and every movement of her life seemed impelled by the desire
+to repay the wealth of affection that was lavished upon her.
+It was impossible to see such a being daily in the intimacy of
+her home associations&mdash;the sphere in which her gentle spirit
+shone most brightly&mdash;without loving her; and Herbert soon
+felt that he loved her, yet he added in his thoughts "in all
+honor," and to him it would have seemed little honorable to
+attempt to win this priceless treasure from him to whose generosity
+he had owed his place in her circle. Mrs. Latimer,
+though she did not fear for her son's honor, trembled for his
+future peace as she marked the sadness which often stole over
+him, after spending an hour in the society of this lovely girl;
+but Mrs. Latimer was a wise woman&mdash;she knew that speech is
+to such emotions often as the lighted match to a magazine, and
+she kept silence.</p>
+
+<p>For almost a year after his introduction, Herbert continued
+in daily intercourse with Mary Cavendish to drink fresh draughts
+of love, yet so carefully did he guard his manner, that no suspicion
+of his warmer emotions threw a shadow over her friendship,
+or checked the frankness with which she unveiled to him
+the rich treasures of her mind and heart. It was in the autumn
+succeeding their first acquaintance that Mr. and Mrs.
+Cavendish issued cards for a large party at their house. It
+would be too gay a scene for the quiet taste of Mrs. Latimer,
+but Herbert would be there, and at the request of Mrs. Cavendish
+he promised to come early. The promise was kept. He<a class='page' name ='Page_26' id='Page_26' title='26'>&nbsp;</a>
+arrived half an hour at least before any other guest, bringing
+with him a bouquet of rare and beautiful flowers for Mary.
+As he entered the hall he heard a slight scream from the parlor
+beside whose open door he stood. The scream was in a
+voice to whose lightest tone his heart responded, and in an instant,
+he was beside Mary Cavendish, had clasped her in his
+arms, and pressing her closely to his person, was endeavoring
+to extinguish with his hands the flames that enveloped her.
+The evening was cold: there was a fire in the stove, before
+which Mary stood arranging some flowers on the mantel-piece,
+when the door was opened for him. The sudden rush of air
+had wafted her light, floating drapery of gauze and lace into
+the fire, and in a moment all was in a blaze. Fortunate was
+it for her, that under this light, flimsy drapery, was worn a
+dress of stouter texture and less combustible material&mdash;a rich
+satin. After the slight scream which had brought him to her
+side, Mary uttered no sound, and with his whole soul concentrated
+on action, he had been equally silent till the last spark
+was smothered. Then gazing wildly in her pallid face he exclaimed,
+"In mercy speak to me! Did I come too late? Are
+you burned?"</p>
+
+<p>"I scarcely know&mdash;I think not," she faltered out. Then,
+as she made an effort to withdraw from his arms, added
+quickly&mdash;"no&mdash;not at all."</p>
+
+<p>Completely overpowered by the revulsion of feeling which
+those words occasioned, Herbert clasped her again in his arms,
+and fervently ejaculating, "Thank God!" pressed his lips to
+her cheek. At that moment, the voice of Mr. Cavendish was
+heard in the next room, and breaking from him, Mary rushed
+to her astonished father, and burying her face in his bosom,
+burst into tears. Aroused to full consciousness by the presence
+of another, Herbert stood trembling and dismayed at the remembrance
+of his own rashness. Agitated as she was, Mary<a class='page' name ='Page_27' id='Page_27' title='27'>&nbsp;</a>
+was compelled to answer her father's questions, for he seemed
+wholly unable to speak.</p>
+
+<p>"Latimer, I owe my child's life probably to you. How
+shall I repay the debt?" cried Mr. Cavendish, attempting, as
+he spoke, to clasp Herbert's hand. He winced at the touch,
+and a sudden contraction passed over his face.</p>
+
+<p>"You are burned," said Mr. Cavendish, and would have
+examined his hand, but throwing his handkerchief over it,
+Herbert declared it was not worth mentioning, though at the
+same time he confessed that the pain was sufficient to make
+him desirous to return home, and have some soothing application
+made to it. Mr. Cavendish parted from him with regret,
+with earnest charges that he should take care of himself, and
+equally earnest hopes that he might be sufficiently relieved to
+return to them before the evening was passed; but Mary still
+lay in her father's arms, with her face hidden, and noticed
+Herbert's departure neither by word nor look.</p>
+
+<p>"I have outraged her delicacy, and she cannot bear even
+to see me," he said to himself.</p>
+
+<p>In passing out he accidentally trod on the flowers which he
+had selected with such care&mdash;"Crushed like my own heart!"
+he ejaculated mentally.</p>
+
+<p>A fortnight passed before Herbert Latimer could take his accustomed
+place in the office of Mr. Cavendish. His hand had
+been deeply burned&mdash;so deeply that the pain had produced
+fever. During this period of suffering, Mr. Cavendish had often
+visited him, and Mrs. Cavendish had more than once taken his
+mother's place at his bedside; but Herbert found little pleasure
+in their attentions, for he said to himself, "If they knew
+all my presumption, they would be less kind."</p>
+
+<p>His illness passed away, his hand healed, and he resumed
+his accustomed avocations; but no invitation, however urgent,
+could win him again to the house of Mr. Cavendish. "I have<a class='page' name ='Page_28' id='Page_28' title='28'>&nbsp;</a>
+proved my own weakness&mdash;I will not place myself again in the
+way of temptation," was the language of his heart. Apologies
+became awkward. He felt that he must seem to his friend ungracious
+if not ungrateful; and one day observing unusual seriousness
+in the countenance of Mr. Cavendish on his declining
+an invitation to dine with him, he exclaimed, "You look displeased,
+and I can hardly wonder at it; but could you know
+my reason for denying myself the pleasure of visiting you, I am
+sure you would think me right."</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps so; but as I do not know it, you cannot
+be surprised that your determined withdrawal from our circle
+should wound both my feelings and those of my family."</p>
+
+<p>Herbert covered his eyes with his hand for a moment, and
+then turning them with a grave and even sad expression on
+Mr. Cavendish, said, "I have declined your invitations only
+because I could not accept them with honor: I love your
+daughter&mdash;I have loved her almost from the first hour of my
+acquaintance with her."</p>
+
+<p>"And why have you not told me so before, Herbert?"
+asked Mr. Cavendish, with no anger in his tones.</p>
+
+<p>"Because I believed myself capable of loving in silence, and
+while I wronged no one, I was willing to indulge in the sweet
+poison of her society; but a moment of danger to her destroyed
+my self-control. What has been may be again&mdash;I have
+learned to distrust myself&mdash;I cannot tamper with temptation,
+lest I should one day use the position in which you have
+placed me, and the advantages which you have bestowed on
+me, in endeavoring to win from you a treasure which you may
+well be reluctant to yield to me."</p>
+
+<p>"Herbert, I only blame you for not having spoken to me
+sooner of this."</p>
+
+<p>"I feel now that I should have done so&mdash;it was a want of<a class='page' name ='Page_29' id='Page_29' title='29'>&nbsp;</a>
+self-knowledge, the rash confidence of one untried which kept
+me silent."</p>
+
+<p>"No, Herbert&mdash;it was a want of knowledge of me&mdash;of
+confidence in my justice&mdash;I will not say my kindness. What
+higher views do you suppose I can entertain for my daughter,
+than to make her the wife of one who has a prospect of
+obtaining the most distinguished eminence in my own profession."</p>
+
+<p>"If that prospect be mine, to you I owe it&mdash;could I make
+it a plea for asking more?"</p>
+
+<p>"You owe what I did for you to the interest and esteem
+excited by your own qualities, and all I did has only given you
+a place for the exercise of those qualities&mdash;I do not know how
+you will win Mary's forgiveness for refraining from her society
+on such slight grounds."</p>
+
+<p>"Dare I hope for your permission to seek that forgiveness?"</p>
+
+<p>"Dare I hope for your company to dinner to-day?"</p>
+
+<p>"Now that you know all, nothing could give so much
+pleasure&mdash;though I fear&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"What, fearing again!"</p>
+
+<p>"I fear that Miss Cavendish is very much displeased with me."</p>
+
+<p>"For saving her life?"</p>
+
+<p>"No&mdash;not exactly that."</p>
+
+<p>Herbert Latimer did not confide the cause of his fear to Mr.
+Cavendish, neither did he suffer it to interfere with his visit on
+that day. He went to dinner, but stayed to tea, and long after,
+and as Mary was his companion for much, if not all of this
+time, we presume that her displeasure could not have been
+manifested in any very serious manner.</p>
+
+<p>It was about six weeks after this renewal of his visits that
+Mr. Duffield meeting his friend Mr. Cavendish one morning,
+accosted him with, "I hear that your daughter is going to be
+married to young Latimer&mdash;is it true?"</p>
+
+<p><a class='page' name ='Page_30' id='Page_30' title='30'>&nbsp;</a>"Yes, and I heartily wish the affair were over, for I hope
+Herbert will recover his senses when he is actually married, as
+now I am obliged to attend to his business and my own too."</p>
+
+<p>"Not much profit in that, I should think&mdash;I manage somewhat
+differently."</p>
+
+<p>"Did you not tell me that you intended forming a partnership
+with young Conway?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes&mdash;but before I had done so, I heard that Sprague,
+who is as well connected as Conway, and a great deal more
+industrious, would go into business with me on less exacting
+terms. He has been associated with me for some time. He
+does all the drudgery of the business, and is content with one-eighth
+of the profits for five years."</p>
+
+<p>"Those are low terms&mdash;with talent and connection too, I
+should think he could have done better."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, you see his connections were of little use to him
+while he was alone, for he was so desperately poor that they
+did not like to acknowledge him, but I knew as soon as he
+began to rise they would all notice him, and so it has proved.
+I have no doubt I shall gain through them more than the
+thousand dollars a-year which Sprague will draw, while I shall
+be saved every thing that is really disagreeable or laborious in
+my practice; and you give two thousand dollars a-year, and
+are to have your daughter married to a gentleman who leaves
+all the business on your hands&mdash;which of us, do you think, has
+attended most successfully to the main chance?"</p>
+
+<p>"According to my views of the main chance, it is not to be
+determined by such data&mdash;but even in your own view we may
+have a very different account to render nine years hence?"</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, well! Ten years from the day that Latimer passed we
+will compare notes."</p>
+
+<p>Ten years are long in prospective, but it seemed to both
+parties only a short time when the appointed anniversary came.<a class='page' name ='Page_31' id='Page_31' title='31'>&nbsp;</a>
+On that day Mr. Cavendish invited several of his brother
+lawyers, and amongst them Mr. Duffield, to dinner. Herbert
+Latimer, his wife and mother, his two noble boys, and though
+last, not least in importance, if in size, his little girl, her grandfather's
+especial pet, were of the party. It was a well assorted
+party. The guests found good cheer and social converse&mdash;the
+cherished friends of the house, food for deeper and higher enjoyment
+When the ladies had withdrawn, calling Herbert
+Latimer to the head of the table, Mr. Cavendish seated himself
+beside Mr. Duffield.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Duffield!" he exclaimed, "do you know that it is
+ten years to-day since Herbert Latimer stood before us for
+examination?"</p>
+
+<p>"Ah!" ejaculated Mr. Duffield, in the tone of one who did
+not care to pursue the subject further.</p>
+
+<p>"You remember our agreement&mdash;are you still willing to
+make our success in that time a test of the truth of our
+respective principles?"</p>
+
+<p>"It may afford a more conclusive proof of your better
+judgment in the selection of an associate."</p>
+
+<p>"Sprague stands very high in his profession."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes&mdash;I knew he would, for he has talent and connection&mdash;therefore
+I chose him; but he left me just at the time these
+were beginning to be available, as soon as the five years for
+which our agreement was made, had expired."</p>
+
+<p>"What occasioned his leaving you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, Duval offered him better terms than I had done&mdash;I
+should not have cared so much for his going, but he carried
+off many of my clients, with whom he had ingratiated himself
+during his connection with me. My practice has scarcely recovered
+yet from the injury which he did it."</p>
+
+
+<p>"He seems to have acted on your own principle, and to
+have considered the main chance to mean the most money."</p>
+
+<p><a class='page' name ='Page_32' id='Page_32' title='32'>&nbsp;</a>"And do you suppose Latimer would have remained with
+you if he could have made better terms for himself?"</p>
+
+<p>"I know that during my long illness he was offered double
+what he was receiving, or could then hope ever to receive from
+my practice, and his reply to the offer was that the bonds
+forged by gratitude and affection, no interest could break. He
+has now built up the business again to far more than it was
+when he joined me&mdash;I know that I owe most of it to him, yet
+he will not listen to any advice to dissolve our partnership.
+Gentlemen," he said, "I have a sentiment to propose to you,
+which you may drink in wine or water as you like best.
+'<span class="smcap">The Main Chance</span>&mdash;always best secured by obedience to the
+golden rule&mdash;as ye would that others should do unto you, do
+ye even so to them.'"</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a class='page' name ='Page_33' id='Page_33' title='33'>&nbsp;</a><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a><a href="#CONTENTS">CHAPTER III.</a></h2>
+
+
+<p>The morning after Mr. Arlington had commenced our Christmas
+entertainments with the sketch of his friend Herbert Latimer's
+life, was dark and gloomy. At least, such was its aspect abroad,
+where leaden clouds covered the sky, and a cold, sleety rain
+fell fast; but within, all was bright, and warm, and cheerful.
+Immediately after breakfast we separated, each in search of
+amusement suited to his or her own tastes: some to the music
+room, some to the library, and Robert Dudley and Annie Donaldson
+to a game of battledore and shuttlecock in the wide hall, with
+Mr. Arlington for a spectator. As the storm increased, however,
+all seemed to feel the want of companionship, and without any
+preconcerted plan, we found ourselves, about two hours after
+breakfast, again assembled in the room in which quiet, patient
+Mrs. Donaldson sat, ravelling the netting of the last evening.</p>
+
+<p>"Now for Aunt Nancy's portfolio," cried Annie, as soon as
+conversation began to flag.</p>
+
+<p>The proposal was seconded so warmly that, as I could urge
+nothing against it, the portfolio was immediately produced, and
+Annie, taking possession of it, commissioned Robert Dudley to
+draw forth an engraving:&mdash;"Scene, a chamber by night, a
+sleeping baby and a sleepy mother, a basket of needle-work&mdash;I
+am sure it is needle-work&mdash;on the floor, and a cross suspended<a class='page' name ='Page_34' id='Page_34' title='34'>&nbsp;</a>
+from the wall," said Annie, describing the engraving which she
+had taken from Robert.</p>
+
+<p>"That cross looks promising," said Colonel Donaldson, who
+likes a little romance as well as any of his daughters. "Let us
+have the fair lady's history, Aunt Nancy."</p>
+
+<p>"I know nothing about her," said I, with a smile at his
+eagerness.</p>
+
+<p>"Then why, dear Aunt Nancy, did you keep the engraving?"
+asked Annie.</p>
+
+<p>"I might answer, because of my interest in the scene it
+depicts&mdash;a scene in which religion seems to shed its sanctifying
+influence over the tenderest affection and the homeliest duties of
+our common life; but I had another reason."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! I knew it," exclaimed Annie.</p>
+
+<p>"I first saw this print in company with a very cultivated and
+interesting German lady, to whose memory the sleeping baby
+recalled a cradle song written by her countryman, the brave
+K&ouml;rner. She sang it for me, and as the German is, I am
+grieved to say, a sealed book to me, she gave me a literal translation
+of the words, which&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Which you have put into English verse, and written here
+at the back of the engraving in the finest of all fine writing,
+and which papa will put on his spectacles and read for us."</p>
+
+<p>"No; I commission Mr. Arlington to do that," said the
+Colonel, "without his spectacles."</p>
+
+<p>"First," said I, "let me assure you that the original is
+full of a simple, natural tenderness, which I fear, in the
+double process of translating and versifying, has entirely escaped."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Arlington, taking the paper from Annie, now read,&mdash;</p>
+
+
+<h3><a class='page' name ='Page_35' id='Page_35' title='35'>&nbsp;</a><a name="THE_CRADLE_SONG" id="THE_CRADLE_SONG"></a><a href="#CONTENTS">THE CRADLE SONG;</a></h3>
+
+<h4>A FREE TRANSLATION FROM K&Ouml;RNER.</h4>
+
+
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table class='poem' border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='center'>I.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Slumberer! to thy mother's breast</span><br />
+<span class="i0">So fondly folded, sweetly rest!</span><br />
+<span class="i0">Within that fair and quiet world,</span><br />
+<span class="i0">With downy pinions scarce unfurl'd,</span><br />
+<span class="i0">Life gently passes, nor doth bring</span><br />
+<span class="i0">One dream of sorrow on its wing.</span><br />
+</div></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='center'>II.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Pleasant our dreams in early hours,</span><br />
+<span class="i0">When Mother-love our life embowers;&mdash;</span><br />
+<span class="i0">Ah! Mother-love! thy tender light</span><br />
+<span class="i0">Hath vanished from my sky of night,</span><br />
+<span class="i0">Scarce leaving there one fading ray</span><br />
+<span class="i0">To thrill me with, remember'd day.</span><br />
+</div></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='center'>III.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Thrice, by the smiles of fav'ring Heaven,</span><br />
+<span class="i0">To man this holiest joy is given;</span><br />
+<span class="i0">Thrice, circled by the arms of love,</span><br />
+<span class="i0">With glowing spirit he may prove</span><br />
+<span class="i0">The highest rapture heart can feel,</span><br />
+<span class="i0">The noblest hopes our lives reveal.</span><br />
+</div></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='center'>IV.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The earliest blessings that enwreathed</span><br />
+<span class="i0">His infant days, 'twas Love that breathed.</span><br />
+<span class="i0">In Love's warm smile the nursling blooms,</span><br />
+<span class="i0">Nor fears one shade that o'er him glooms,</span><br />
+<span class="i0">While flowers unfold and waters dance</span><br />
+<span class="i0">In joy, beneath his first, fresh glance.</span><br />
+</div></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='center'>V.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And when around the youth's bold course</span><br />
+<span class="i0">Clouds gather&mdash;tempests spend their force&mdash;</span><br />
+<span class="i0">When his soul darkens with his sky,</span><br />
+<span class="i0">Again the Love-God hovers nigh;</span><br />
+<span class="i0">And on some gentle maiden's breast</span><br />
+<span class="i0">Lulls him, once more, to blissful rest.</span><br />
+</div></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>&nbsp;</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='center'><a class='page' name ='Page_36' id='Page_36' title='36'>&nbsp;</a>VI.</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But when his heart bends to the power</span><br />
+<span class="i0">Of storm, as bends the summer flower,</span><br />
+<span class="i0">'Tis Love that, as the Angel-Death</span><br />
+<span class="i0">Wooes from his lips the ling'ring breath,</span><br />
+<span class="i0">And gently bears his soul above,</span><br />
+<span class="i0">To the bright skies&mdash;the home of Love.</span><br />
+</div></td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<p>"Poor K&ouml;rner!" said Mr. Arlington, as he concluded reading
+this song&mdash;if indeed it may claim that name in its English
+dress&mdash;"I can sympathize, as few can do, with his mournful
+memory of mother-love."</p>
+
+<p>This was said in a tone of such genuine emotion, that I
+looked at him with even more pleasure than I had hitherto
+done.</p>
+
+<p>"Such tenderness touches us particularly when found, as in
+K&ouml;rner, in union with manly and vigorous qualities&mdash;perhaps,
+because it is a rare combination," said Mrs. Dudley.</p>
+
+<p>"Is it rare?" I asked doubtfully. "The results of my own
+observation have led me to believe that it is precisely in manly,
+vigorous, independent minds that we see the fullest development
+of our simple, natural, home-affections."</p>
+
+<p>"You are right, Aunt Nancy," said Col. Donaldson; "it is
+only boys striving to seem manly and men of boyish minds,
+who fail to acknowledge with reverence and tenderness the
+value of a mother's love."</p>
+
+<p>"So convinced am I of this," I replied, "that I would ask
+for no more certain indication of a man's nobility of nature,
+than his manner to his mother. I remember a striking illustration
+of the fidelity of such an indication in two brothers
+of the name of Manning, with whom I was once acquainted.
+The one was quite a <i>petit-ma&icirc;tre</i>&mdash;a dandy; the other, a fine
+creature&mdash;large-minded and large-hearted. The first betrayed
+in every look and movement, that he considered himself greatly<a class='page' name ='Page_37' id='Page_37' title='37'>&nbsp;</a>
+his mother's superior, and feared every moment that she should
+detract from his dignity by some sin against the dicta of fashion;
+the other did honor at once to her and to himself, by his
+reverent devotion to her. They were a contrast, and a contrast
+which circumstances brought out most strikingly. Ah, Mr.
+Arlington! I wish you could have seen them&mdash;a sketch of them
+from your pencil would have been a picture indeed."</p>
+
+<p>"We will take your word-painting instead," said Mr.
+Arlington.</p>
+
+<p>"A mere description in words could not present them to
+you in all their strongly marked diversity of character. To do
+this, I must give you a history of their lives."</p>
+
+<p>"And why not?"&mdash;and&mdash;"Oh, yes, Aunt Nancy, that is
+just what we want," was echoed from one to another. They
+consented to delay their gratification till the evening, that I
+might have a little time to arrange my reminiscences; and
+when "the hours of long uninterrupted evening" came, and we
+had</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"&mdash;&mdash;stirr'd the fire and closed the shutters fast,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Let fall the curtains, wheeled the sofa round,"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>and disposed ourselves in comfort for talking and for listening,
+I gave them the relation which you will find below under the
+title of</p>
+
+
+<h3><a name="THE_BROTHERS" id="THE_BROTHERS"></a><a href="#CONTENTS">THE BROTHERS;</a></h3>
+
+<h4>OR, IN THE FASHION AND ABOVE THE FASHION.</h4>
+
+<p>"Some men are born to greatness&mdash;some achieve greatness&mdash;and
+some have greatness thrust upon them." Henry Manning
+belonged to the second of these three great classes. The son of
+a mercantile adventurer, who won and lost a fortune by speculation,
+he found himself at sixteen years of age called on to
+choose between the life of a Western farmer, with its vigorous<a class='page' name ='Page_38' id='Page_38' title='38'>&nbsp;</a>
+action, stirring incident and rough usage&mdash;and the life of a
+clerk in one of the most noted establishments in Broadway, the
+great source and centre of fashion in New-York. Mr. Morgan,
+the brother of Mrs. Manning, who had been recalled from the distant
+West by the death of her husband, and the embarrassments
+into which that event had plunged her, had obtained the offer
+of the latter situation for one of his two nephews, and would
+take the other with him to his prairie-home.</p>
+
+<p>"I do not ask you to go with me, Matilda," he said to his
+sister, "because our life is yet too wild and rough to suit a delicate
+woman, reared, as you have been, in the midst of luxurious
+refinements. The difficulties and privations of life in the West
+fall most heavily upon woman, while she has little of that sustaining
+power which man's more adventurous spirit finds in
+overcoming difficulty and coping with danger. But let me
+have one of your boys; and by the time he has arrived at manhood,
+he will be able, I doubt not, to offer you in his home all
+the comforts, if not all the elegances of your present abode."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Manning consented; and now the question was, which
+of her sons should remain with her, and which should accompany
+Mr. Morgan. To Henry Manning, older by two years
+than his brother George, the choice of situations was submitted.
+He went with his uncle to the Broadway establishment,
+heard the duties which would be demanded from him, the salary
+which would be given, saw the grace with which the <i>&eacute;l&eacute;gants</i>
+behind the counter displayed their silks, and satins, and velvets,
+to the <i>&eacute;l&eacute;gantes</i> before the counter, and the decision with which
+they promulgated the decrees of fashion; and with that just
+sense of his own powers, which is the accompaniment of true
+genius, he decided at once that there lay his vocation. George,
+who had not been without difficulty kept quiet, while his brother
+was forming his decision, as soon as it was announced,
+sprang forward with a whoop that would have suited a West<a class='page' name ='Page_39' id='Page_39' title='39'>&nbsp;</a>ern
+forest better than a New-York drawing-room, threw the
+Horace he was reading across the table, clasped first his mother
+and then his uncle in his arms, and exclaimed, "I am the boy
+for the West. I will help you fell forests and build cities there,
+uncle. Why should not we build cities as well as Romulus and
+Remus?"</p>
+
+<p>"I will supply your cities with all their silks, and satins, and
+velvets, and laces, and charge them nothing, George," said
+Henry Manning, with that air of superiority with which the
+worldly-wise often look on the sallies of the enthusiast.</p>
+
+<p>"You make my head ache, my son," complained Mrs. Manning,
+shrinking from his boisterous gratulation;&mdash;but Mr. Morgan
+returned his hearty embrace, and as he gazed into his bold,
+bright face, with an eye as bright as his own, replied to his
+burst of enthusiasm, "You <i>are</i> the very boy for the West,
+George. It is out of such brave stuff that pioneers and city-builders
+are always made."</p>
+
+<p>Henry Manning soon bowed himself into the favor of the
+ladies who formed the principal customers of his employer. By
+his careful and really correct habits, and his elegant taste in the
+selection and arrangement of goods, he became also a favorite
+with his employers themselves. They needed an agent for the
+selection of goods abroad, and they sent him. He purchased
+cloths for them in England, and silks in France, and came home
+with the reputation of a travelled man. Having persuaded his
+mother to advance a capital for him by selling out the bank
+stock in which Mr. Morgan had founded her little fortune, at
+twenty-four years of age he commenced business for himself as
+a French importer. Leaving a partner to attend to the sales at
+home, he went abroad for the selection of goods, and the further
+enhancement of his social reputation. He returned in two
+years with a fashionable figure, a most <i>recherch&eacute;</i> style of dress,
+moustachios of the most approved cut, and whiskers of faultless<a class='page' name ='Page_40' id='Page_40' title='40'>&nbsp;</a>
+curl&mdash;a finished gentleman in his own conceit. With such attractions,
+the <i>prestige</i> which he derived from his reported travels
+and long residence abroad, and the <i>savoir faire</i> of one who had
+made the conventional arrangements of society his study, he
+quickly arose to the summit of his wishes, to the point which
+it had been his life's ambition to attain. He became the umpire
+of taste, and his word was received as the fiat of fashion.
+He continued to reside with his mother, and paid great attention
+to her style of dress, and the arrangements of her house,
+for it was important that his mother should appear properly.
+Poor Mrs. Manning! she sometimes thought that proud title
+dearly purchased by listening to his daily criticisms on appearance,
+language, manners, which had been esteemed stylish
+enough in their day.</p>
+
+<p>George Manning had visited his mother only once since he
+left her with all the bright imaginings and boundless confidence
+of fourteen, and then Henry was in Europe. It was during
+the first winter after his return, and when the brothers had been
+separated for nearly twelve years, that Mrs. Manning informed
+him she had received a letter from George, announcing his intention
+to be in New-York in December, and to remain with
+them through most if not all of the winter. Henry Manning
+was evidently annoyed at the announcement.</p>
+
+<p>"I wish," he said, "that George had chosen to make his
+visit in the summer, when most of the people to whom I should
+hesitate to introduce him would have been absent. I should be
+sorry to hurt his feelings, but really, to introduce a Western farmer
+into polished society&mdash;" Henry Manning shuddered, and
+was silent. "And then to choose this winter of all winters for
+his visit, and to come in December, just at the very time that I
+heard yesterday Miss Harcourt was coming from Washington
+to spend a few weeks with her friend, Mrs. Duffield!"</p>
+
+<p>"And what has Miss Harcourt's visit to Mrs. Duffield to do
+with George's visit to us?" asked Mrs. Manning.</p>
+
+<p><a class='page' name ='Page_41' id='Page_41' title='41'>&nbsp;</a>"A great deal&mdash;at least it has a great deal to do with my
+regret that he should come just now. I told you how I became
+acquainted with Emma Harcourt in Europe, and what a splendid
+creature she is. Even in Paris, she bore the palm for wit
+and beauty&mdash;and fashion too&mdash;that is in English and American
+society. But I did not tell you that she received me with such
+distinguished favor, and evinced so much pretty consciousness
+at my attentions, that had not her father, having been chosen
+one of the electors of President and Vice-President, hurried from
+Paris in order to be in this country in time for his vote, I should
+probably have been induced to marry her. Her father is in
+Congress this year, and you see, she no sooner learns that I am
+here, than she comes to spend part of the winter with a friend
+in New-York."</p>
+
+<p>Henry arose at this, walked to a glass, surveyed his elegant
+figure, and continuing to cast occasional glances at it as he
+walked backwards and forwards through the room, resumed the
+conversation, or rather his own communication.</p>
+
+<p>"All this is very encouraging, doubtless; but Emma Harcourt
+is so perfectly elegant, so thoroughly refined, that I dread
+the effect upon her of any <i>outr&eacute;</i> association&mdash;by the by, mother,
+if I obtain her permission to introduce you to her, you will
+not wear that brown hat in visiting her&mdash;a brown hat is my
+aversion&mdash;it is positively vulgar&mdash;but to return to George&mdash;how
+can I introduce him, with his rough, boisterous, Western
+manner, to this courtly lady?&mdash;the very thought chills me"&mdash;and
+Henry Manning shivered&mdash;"and yet, how can I avoid it,
+if we should be engaged?"</p>
+
+<p>With December came the beautiful Emma Harcourt, and
+Mrs. Duffield's house was thronged with her admirers. Hers
+was the form and movement of the Huntress Queen rather than
+of one trained in the halls of fashion. There was a joyous freedom
+in her air, her step, her glance, which, had she been less<a class='page' name ='Page_42' id='Page_42' title='42'>&nbsp;</a>
+beautiful, less talented, less fortunate in social position or in
+wealth, would have placed her under the ban of fashion; but,
+as it was, she commanded fashion, and even Henry Manning,
+the very slave of conventionalism, had no criticism for her. He
+had been among the first to call on her, and the blush that
+flitted across her cheek, the smile that played upon her lips, as
+he was announced, might well have flattered one even of less
+vanity.</p>
+
+<p>The very next day, before Henry had had time to improve
+these symptoms in her favor, on returning home, at five o'clock,
+to his dinner, he found a stranger in the parlor with his mother.
+The gentleman arose on his entrance, and he had scarcely time
+to glance at the tall, manly form, the lofty air, the commanding
+brow, ere he found himself clasped in his arms, with the
+exclamation, "Dear Henry! how rejoiced I am to see you
+again."</p>
+
+<p>In George Manning the physical and intellectual man had
+been developed in rare harmony. He was taller and larger
+every way than his brother Henry, and the self-reliance which
+the latter had laboriously attained from the mastery of all conventional
+rules, was his by virtue of a courageous soul, which
+held itself above all rules but those prescribed by its own high
+sense of the right. There was a singular contrast, rendered yet
+more striking by some points of resemblance, between the pupil
+of society, and the child of the forest&mdash;between the Parisian
+elegance of Henry, and the proud, free grace of George. His
+were the step and bearing which we have seen in an Indian
+chief; but thought had left its impress on his brow, and there
+was in his countenance that indescribable air of refinement
+which marks a polished mind. In a very few minutes Henry
+became reconciled to his brother's arrival, and satisfied with
+him in all respects but one&mdash;his dress. This was of the finest
+cloth, but made into large, loose trowsers, and a species of hunt<a class='page' name ='Page_43' id='Page_43' title='43'>&nbsp;</a>ing-shirt,
+trimmed with fur, belted around the waist, and descending
+to the knee, instead of the tight pantaloons and closely
+fitting body coat prescribed by fashion. The little party lingered
+long over the table&mdash;it was seven o'clock before they
+arose from it.</p>
+
+<p>"Dear mother," said George Manning, "I am sorry to leave
+you this evening, but I will make you rich amends to-morrow
+by introducing to you the friend I am going to visit, if you will
+permit me. Henry, it is so long since I was in New-York that
+I need some direction in finding my way&mdash;must I turn up or
+down Broadway for Number&mdash;, in going from this street?"</p>
+
+<p>"Number&mdash;," exclaimed Henry in surprise; "you must
+be mistaken&mdash;that is Mrs. Duffield's."</p>
+
+<p>"Then I am quite right, for it is at Mrs. Duffield's that I
+expect to meet my friend this evening."</p>
+
+<p>With some curiosity to know what friend of George could
+have so completely the <i>entr&eacute;e</i> of the fashionable Mrs. Duffield's
+house as to make an appointment there, Henry proposed to go
+with him and show him the way. There was a momentary
+hesitation in George's manner before he replied, "Very well, I
+shall be obliged to you."</p>
+
+<p>"But&mdash;excuse me George&mdash;you are not surely going in that
+dress&mdash;this is one of Mrs. Duffield's reception evenings, and,
+early as it is, you will find company there."</p>
+
+<p>George laughed as he replied; "They must take me as I
+am, Henry. We do not receive our fashions from Paris at the
+West."</p>
+
+<p>Henry almost repented his offer to accompany his brother;
+but it was too late to withdraw, for George, unconscious of this
+feeling, had taken his cloak and cap, and was awaiting his escort.
+As they approached Mrs. Duffield's house, George, who
+had hitherto led the conversation, became silent, or answered
+his brother only in monosyllables, and then not always to the<a class='page' name ='Page_44' id='Page_44' title='44'>&nbsp;</a>
+purpose. As they entered the hall, the hats and cloaks displayed
+there showed that, as Henry supposed, they were not
+the earliest visitors. George paused for a moment and said,
+"You must go in without me, Henry. Show me to a room
+where there is no company," he continued, turning to a servant&mdash;"and
+take this card in to Mrs. Duffield&mdash;be sure to give it
+to Mrs. Duffield herself."</p>
+
+<p>The servant bowed low to the commanding stranger; and
+Henry, almost mechanically, obeyed his direction, muttering to
+himself, "Free and easy, upon my honor." He had scarcely
+entered the usual reception-room and made his bow to Mrs.
+Duffield, when the servant presented his brother's card. He
+watched her closely, and saw a smile playing over her lips as
+her eyes rested on it. She glanced anxiously at Miss Harcourt,
+and crossing the room to a group in which she stood, she drew
+her aside. After a few whispered words, Mrs. Duffield placed
+the card in Miss Harcourt's hand. A sudden flash of joy irradiated
+every feature of her beautiful face, and Henry Manning
+saw that, but for Mrs. Duffield's restraining hand, she would
+have rushed from the room. Recalled thus to a recollection of
+others, she looked around her, and her eyes met his. In an
+instant, her face was covered with blushes, and she drew back
+with embarrassed consciousness&mdash;almost immediately, however,
+she raised her head with a proud, bright expression, and though
+she did not look at Henry Manning, he felt that she was conscious
+of his observation, as she passed with a composed yet
+joyous step from the room.</p>
+
+<p>Henry Manning was awaking from a dream. It was not
+a very pleasant awakening, but as his vanity rather than his
+heart was touched, he was able to conceal his chagrin, and appear
+as interesting and agreeable as usual. He now expected
+with some impatience the <i>d&eacute;nouement</i> of the comedy. An
+hour passed away, and Mrs. Duffield's eye began to consult the<a class='page' name ='Page_45' id='Page_45' title='45'>&nbsp;</a>
+marble clock on her mantel-piece. The chime for another half-hour
+rang out; and she left the room and returned in a few
+minutes, leaning on the arm of George Manning.</p>
+
+<p>"Who is that?&mdash;What noble-looking man is that?" were
+questions Henry Manning heard from many&mdash;from a very few
+only the exclamation, "How oddly he is dressed!" Before the
+evening was over Henry began to feel that he was eclipsed on
+his own theatre&mdash;that George, if not <i>in the fashion</i>, was yet
+more <i>the fashion</i> than he.</p>
+
+<p>Following the proud, happy glance of his brother's eye, a
+quarter of an hour later, Henry saw Miss Harcourt entering the
+room in an opposite direction from that in which she had lately
+come. If this was a <i>ruse</i> on her part to veil the connection
+between their movements, it was a fruitless caution. None who
+had seen her before could fail now to observe the softened
+character of her beauty, and those who saw</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"A thousand blushing apparitions start<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Into her face"&mdash;<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>whenever his eyes rested on her, could scarcely doubt his influence
+over her.</p>
+
+<p>The next morning George Manning brought Miss Harcourt
+to visit his mother; and Mrs. Manning rose greatly in her son
+Henry's estimation, when he saw the affectionate deference
+evinced towards her by the proud beauty.</p>
+
+<p>"How strange my manner must have seemed to you sometimes!"
+said Miss Harcourt to Henry one day. "I was engaged
+to George long before I met you in Europe; and though
+I never had courage to mention him to you, I wondered a little
+that you never spoke of him. I never doubted for a moment
+that you were acquainted with our engagement."</p>
+
+<p>"I do not even yet understand where and how you and
+George met."</p>
+
+<p><a class='page' name ='Page_46' id='Page_46' title='46'>&nbsp;</a>"We met at home&mdash;my father was Governor of the Territory&mdash;State
+now&mdash;in which your uncle lives: our homes were
+very near each other's, and so we met almost daily while I was
+still a child. We have had all sorts of adventures together; for
+George was a great favorite with my father, and I was permitted
+to go with him anywhere. He has saved my life twice&mdash;once
+at the imminent peril of his own, when with the wilfulness
+of a spoiled child I would ride a horse which he told me I
+could not manage. Oh! you know not half his nobleness," and
+tears moistened the bright eyes of the happy girl.</p>
+
+<p>Henry Manning was touched through all his conventionalism,
+yet the moment after he said, "George is a fine fellow,
+certainly; but I wish you could persuade him to dress a
+little more like other people."</p>
+
+<p>"I would not if I could," exclaimed Emma Harcourt, while
+the blood rushed to her temples; "fashions and all such conventional
+regulations are made for those who have no innate
+perception of the right, the noble, the beautiful&mdash;not for such
+as he&mdash;he is above fashion."</p>
+
+<p>What Emma would not ask, she yet did not fail to recognize
+as another proof of correct judgment, when George
+Manning laid aside his Western costume and assumed one less
+remarkable.</p>
+
+<p>Henry Manning had received a new idea&mdash;that there are
+those who are above the fashion. Allied to this was another
+thought, which in time found entrance to his mind, that it
+would be at least as profitable to devote our energies to the
+acquisition of true nobility of soul, pure and high thought and
+refined taste, as to the study of those conventionalisms which
+are but their outer garment, and can at best only conceal for a
+short time their absence.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a class='page' name ='Page_47' id='Page_47' title='47'>&nbsp;</a><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a><a href="#CONTENTS">CHAPTER IV.</a></h2>
+
+
+<p>The next day was brilliant. Snow had fallen during the night,
+and the sun, which arose without a cloud, was reflected back
+from it with dazzling brightness, while every branch and spray
+glittered in its casing of ice as though it had been a huge
+diamond. Before we met at breakfast, the younger members
+of the party had decided on a sleigh-ride. Even Col. Donaldson
+<i>malgr&eacute;</i> old age and rheumatism, found himself unable to resist
+the cheerful morning and their gay solicitations, and accompanied
+them. Mrs. Donaldson and I were left alone, a
+circumstance which did not afflict either of us. Mrs. Donaldson
+was never at a loss for pleasant occupation for her hours, and
+Annie had given me something to do in parting.</p>
+
+<p>"Remember, Aunt Nancy, we shall look to you for our
+entertainment this evening; you shall be permitted to choose
+your subject. Is not that gracious?" she added, with a laugh
+at her own style of command, springing at the same moment
+from the sleigh in which Mr. Arlington had already placed
+himself at her side, and running up the steps to the piazza,
+where I stood, that she might give me another kiss, and satisfy
+herself that she had not wounded the <i>amour propre</i> of her old
+friend, by speaking so much <i>en reine</i>. I was, in truth, pleased
+to be reminded of the demand which might be made on me in
+the evening, while I had time to glance over sketches intended<a class='page' name ='Page_48' id='Page_48' title='48'>&nbsp;</a>
+only for myself, and ascertain whether they contained any thing
+likely to interest others.</p>
+
+<p>A late dinner re-united us, and the fatigues of the morning
+having been repaired by an hour's rest in the afternoon, our
+party was more than usually fresh and ready for enjoyment
+when we met in the evening. I had availed myself of Annie's
+permission, and selected my subject. It was a crayon sketch of
+a lovely lake, taken by Philip Oswald, the son of one of my
+most valued friends. The sketch was made while all around
+remained in the wilderness of uncultivated nature. Since that
+day, the stillness has been disturbed by the sound of the axe and
+the hammer. Upon the borders of that sweet lake, a fair home
+has risen, from which the incense of grateful and loving hearts
+has gone up to the Creator of so much beauty. The associations
+which made this scene peculiarly interesting to me I
+had long since written out, and now give to the reader under
+the title of</p>
+
+
+<h3><a name="LOSS_AND_GAIN" id="LOSS_AND_GAIN"></a><a href="#CONTENTS">LOSS AND GAIN;</a></h3>
+
+<h4>OR, HEARTS VERSUS DIAMONDS.</h4>
+
+<p>Winter had thrown its icy fetters over the Hudson, and stilled
+even the stormier waves of the East River, as the inhabitants
+of New-York designate that portion of the Harbor which lies
+between their city and Brooklyn. The city itself&mdash;its streets&mdash;its
+houses&mdash;all wore the livery of this "ruler of the inverted
+year"&mdash;while in many a garret and cellar of its crowded streets,
+ragged children huddled together, seeking to warm their frozen
+limbs beneath the scanty covering of their beds, or cowering
+over the few half-dying embers, which they misnamed a fire.
+Yet the social affections were not chilled&mdash;rather did they seem
+to glow more warmly, as though rejoicing in their triumph
+over the mighty conqueror of the physical world. Christian<a class='page' name ='Page_49' id='Page_49' title='49'>&nbsp;</a>
+charity went forth unchecked through the frosty air and over
+the snow-clad streets, to shelter the houseless, to clothe the
+naked, to warm the freezing. Human sympathies awoke to
+new-life, the dying hopes and failing energies of man; and the
+sleigh-bells, ringing out their joyous peals through the day, and
+far, far into the night, told that the young and fair were abroad
+braving all the severities of the season, in their eager search
+after pleasure. In the neighborhood of Waverley Place, especially,
+on the evening of the 16th of December, did this merry
+music "wake the silent air" to respond to the quick beatings of
+the gay young hearts anticipating the f&ecirc;te of f&ecirc;tes, the most
+brilliant party of the season, which was that evening to be
+given at the house of the ruler of fashion&mdash;the elegant Mrs.
+Bruton.</p>
+
+<p>Instead of introducing our readers to the gay assemblage of
+this lady's guests, we will take them to the dressing-room of the
+fairest among them, the beautiful, the gay, the brilliant Caroline
+Danby. As the door of this inner temple of beauty opens at
+the touch of our magic wand, its inmate is seen standing before
+a mirror, and her eye beams, and her lip is smiling with anticipated
+triumph. Does there seem vanity in the gaze she fastens
+there? Look on that form of graceful symmetry, on those
+large black eyes with their jetty fringes, on the rich coloring of
+her rounded cheeks, and the dewy freshness of her red lip, and
+you will forget to censure. But see, the mirror reflects another
+form&mdash;a form so slender that it seems scarcely to have attained
+the full proportions of womanhood, and a face whose soft gray
+eyes and fair complexion, and hair of the palest gold, present a
+singular contrast to the dark yet glowing beauty beside her.
+This is Mary Grayson, the orphan cousin of Caroline Danby,
+who has grown up in her father's house. She has glided in
+with her usual gentle movement, and light, noiseless step, and
+Caroline first perceives her in the glass.</p>
+
+<p><a class='page' name ='Page_50' id='Page_50' title='50'>&nbsp;</a>"Ah, Mary!" she exclaims, "I sent for you to put this
+diamond spray in my hair; you arrange it with so much more
+taste than any one else."</p>
+
+<p>Mary smilingly receives the expensive ornament, and fastens
+it amidst the dark, glossy tresses. At this moment the doorbell
+gives forth a hasty peal, and going to the head of the
+stairs, Mary remains listening till the door is opened, and then
+comes back to say, "Mrs. Oswald, Caroline, and Philip."</p>
+
+<p>"Pray, go down and entertain them till I come, Mary"&mdash;and
+seemingly nothing loth, Mary complies with the request.</p>
+
+<p>In the drawing-room to which Mary Grayson directed her
+steps stood a stately looking lady, who advanced to meet her
+as she entered, and kissing her affectionately, asked, "Are
+you not going with us this evening?"</p>
+
+<p>"No; my sore throat has increased, and the Doctor is
+positive; there is no appeal from him, you know; I am very
+sorry, for I wished to see some of Philip's foreign graces," she
+said playfully, as she turned to give her hand to a gentleman
+who had entered while she was speaking. He received it with
+the frank kindness of a brother, but before he could reply the
+door of the drawing-room opened, and Caroline Danby appeared
+within it. Philip Oswald sprang forward to greet her,
+and from that moment seemed forgetful that there was any
+other thing in life deserving his attention, save her radiant
+beauty. Perhaps there was some little regard to the effect of
+his first glance at that beauty, in her presenting herself in
+the drawing-room with her cloak and hood upon her arm, the
+diamond sparkling in her uncovered tresses, and the soft, rich
+folds of her satin dress and its flowing lace draperies, shading
+without concealing the graceful outline of her form. The gentleman
+who gazed so admiringly upon her, who wrapped her
+cloak around her with such tender care, and even insisted,
+kneeling gracefully before her, on fastening himself the warm,<a class='page' name ='Page_51' id='Page_51' title='51'>&nbsp;</a>
+furred overshoes upon her slender foot, seemed a fit attendant
+at the shrine of beauty. Philip Oswald had been only a few
+weeks at home, after an absence of four years spent in European
+travel. The quality in his appearance and manners, which
+first impressed the observer, was refinement&mdash;perfect elegance,
+without the least touch of coxcombry. It had been said of him,
+that he had brought home the taste in dress of a Parisian, the
+imaginativeness of a German, and the voice and passion for
+music of an Italian. Few were admitted to such intimacy with
+him as to look into the deeper qualities of the mind&mdash;but those
+who were, saw there the sturdy honesty of John Bull, and the
+courageous heart and independent spirit of his own America.
+Some of those who knew him best, regretted that the possession
+of a fortune, which placed him among the wealthiest in
+America, would most probably consign him to a life of indolence,
+in which his highest qualities would languish for want
+of exercise.</p>
+
+<p>By nine o'clock Caroline Danby's preparations were completed,
+and leaning on one of Philip Oswald's arms, while the
+other was given to his mother, she was led out, and placed in
+the most splendid sleigh in New York, and wrapped in the
+most costly furs. Philip followed, the weary coachman touched
+his spirited horses with the whip, the sleigh-bells rang merrily
+out, and Mary Grayson was left in solitude.</p>
+
+<p>The last stroke of three had ceased to vibrate on the air when
+Caroline Danby again stood beside her cousin. Mary was
+sleeping, and a painter might have hesitated whether to give
+the palm of beauty to the soft, fair face, which looked so angel-like
+in its placid sleep, or to that which bent above her in undimmed
+brilliancy.</p>
+
+<p>"Is it you, Caroline? What time is it?" asked Mary, as
+she aroused at her cousin's call.</p>
+
+<p>"Three o'clock; but wake up, Mary; I have something to
+tell you, which must not be heard by sleepy ears."</p>
+
+<p><a class='page' name ='Page_52' id='Page_52' title='52'>&nbsp;</a>"How fresh you look!" exclaimed Mary, sitting up in bed
+and looking at her cousin admiringly. "Who would believe
+you had been dancing all night!"</p>
+
+<p>"I have not been dancing all night, nor half the night."</p>
+
+<p>"Why&mdash;what have you been doing then?"</p>
+
+<p>"Listening to Philip Oswald. Oh Mary! I am certainly
+the most fortunate woman in the world. He is mine at last&mdash;he,
+the most elegant, the most brilliant man in New-York, and
+with such a splendid fortune. I was so happy, so excited, that
+I could not sleep, and therefore I awoke you to talk."</p>
+
+<p>"I am glad you did, for I am almost as much pleased as
+you can be&mdash;such joy is better than sleep;&mdash;but all the bells in
+the city seem to be ringing&mdash;did you see any thing of the fire?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh yes! the whole sky at the southeast is glowing from
+the flames&mdash;the largest fire, they say, that has ever been known
+in the city&mdash;but it is far enough from us&mdash;down in Wall-street&mdash;and
+who can think of fires with such joy before them? Only
+think, Mary, with Philip's fortune and Philip's taste, what an
+establishment I shall have."</p>
+
+<p>"And what a mother in dear, good Mrs. Oswald!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes&mdash;but I hope she will not wish to live with us&mdash;mother-in-laws,
+you know, always want to manage every thing
+in their sons' houses."</p>
+
+<p>Thus the cousins sat talking till the fire-bells ceased their
+monotonous and ominous clang, and the late dawn of a winter
+morning reddened the eastern sky. It was half-past nine o'clock
+when they met again at their breakfast; yet late as it was, Mr.
+Danby, usually a very early riser, was not quite ready for it.
+He had spent most of the night at the scene of the fire, and had
+with great difficulty and labor saved his valuable stock of
+French goods from the destroyer. When he joined his
+daughter and niece, his mind was still under the influence of
+last night's excitement, and he could talk of nothing but the fire.</p>
+
+<p><a class='page' name ='Page_53' id='Page_53' title='53'>&nbsp;</a>"Rather expensive fireworks, I am afraid," said Caroline
+flippantly, as her father described the lurid grandeur of the
+scene.</p>
+
+<p>"Do not speak lightly, my daughter, of that which must
+reduce many from affluence to beggary. Millions of property
+were lost last night. The 16th of December, 1835, will long
+be remembered in the annals of New-York, I fear."</p>
+
+<p>"It will long be remembered in my annals," whispered
+Caroline to her cousin, with a bright smile, despite her father's
+chiding.</p>
+
+<p>"Not at home to any but Mr. Philip Oswald," had been
+Caroline Danby's order to the servant this morning; and thus
+when she was told, at twelve o'clock, that that gentleman
+awaited her in the drawing-room, she had heard nothing more
+of the fire than her father and the morning paper had communicated.
+As she entered, Philip arose to greet her, but though
+he strove to smile as his eyes met hers, the effort was vain; and
+throwing himself back on the sofa, he covered his face with his
+hand, as though to hide his pallor and the convulsive quivering
+of his lips from her whom he was reluctant to grieve. Emboldened
+by her fears, Caroline advanced, and laying her hand
+on his, exclaimed, "What is the matter?&mdash;Are you ill?&mdash;your
+mother?&mdash;pray do not keep me in suspense, but tell me what
+has happened."</p>
+
+<p>He seemed to have mastered his emotion, from whatever
+cause it had proceeded; for removing his hand, he looked
+earnestly upon her, and drawing her to a seat beside him, said
+in firm, though sad tones, "That has happened, Caroline,
+which would not move me thus, but for your dear sake&mdash;I
+asked you last night to share my fortune&mdash;to-day I have none
+to offer you."</p>
+
+<p>"Gracious heaven!" exclaimed Caroline, turning as pale as
+he, "what do you mean?"</p>
+
+<p><a class='page' name ='Page_54' id='Page_54' title='54'>&nbsp;</a>"That in the fire last night, or the failures which the most
+sanguine assure me it must produce, my whole fortune is involved.
+If I can recover from the wreck what will secure to
+my poor mother the continuance of her accustomed comforts, it
+will be beyond my hopes; for me&mdash;the luxuries, the comforts,
+the very necessaries of life must be the produce of my own exertion.
+I do not ask you to share my poverty, Caroline; I
+cannot be so selfish; had I not spoken of my love last night,
+you should never have heard it&mdash;though it had been like a
+burning fire, I would have shut it up within my heart&mdash;but it
+is too late for this; you have heard it, and I have heard&mdash;the
+remembrance brings with it a wild delirious joy, even in this
+hour of darkness "&mdash;and the pale face of Philip Oswald flushed,
+and his dimmed eye beamed brightly again as he spoke:
+"I have heard your sweet confession of reciprocal regard.
+Months, perhaps years may pass before I attain the goal at
+which I last night thought myself to have already arrived&mdash;before
+I can dare to call you mine&mdash;but in our land, manly
+determination and perseverance ever command success, and I
+fear not to promise you, dearest, one day a happy home&mdash;though
+not a splendid one&mdash;if you will promise me to share it.
+Look on me, Caroline&mdash;give me one smile to light me on my
+way&mdash;with such a hope before me, I cannot say my <i>dreary</i>
+way."</p>
+
+<p>He ceased, yet Caroline neither looked upon him, nor spoke.
+Her cheek had grown pale at his words, and she sat down with
+downcast eyes, cold, still, statue-like at his side. Yet did not
+Philip Oswald doubt her love. Had not her eye kindled and
+her cheek flushed at his whispered vows&mdash;had not her hand
+rested lovingly in his, and her lip been yielded to the first kiss
+of love&mdash;how, then, could he dare to doubt her? She was
+grieved for his sake&mdash;he had been selfishly abrupt in his first
+communication of his sorrow, and now he&mdash;the stronger&mdash;must<a class='page' name ='Page_55' id='Page_55' title='55'>&nbsp;</a>
+struggle to bear and to speak cheerfully for her sake. And
+with this feeling he had been able to conclude far more cheerfully
+than he commenced. As she still continued silent, he
+bent forward, and would have pressed his lip to her cheek, saying,
+"Not one word for me, dear one,"&mdash;but, drawing hastily
+back, Caroline said with great effort,</p>
+
+<p>"I think, Mr. Oswald&mdash;it seems to me that&mdash;that&mdash;an engagement
+must be a heavy burden to one who has to make
+his own way in life&mdash;I&mdash;I should be sorry to be a disadvantage
+to you."</p>
+
+<p>It was a crushing blow, and for an instant he sat stunned
+into almost death-like stillness by it:&mdash;but he rallied;&mdash;he would
+leave no loop on which hope or fancy might hereafter hang a
+doubt. "Caroline," he said, in a voice whose change spoke the
+intensity of his feelings, "do not speak of disadvantage to me&mdash;your
+love was the one star left in my sky&mdash;but that matters not&mdash;what
+I would know is, whether you desire that the record
+of last evening should be blotted from the history of our lives?"</p>
+
+<p>"I&mdash;I think it had better be&mdash;I am sure I wish you well,
+Mr. Oswald."</p>
+
+<p>It was well for her, perhaps, that she did not venture to
+meet his eye&mdash;that look of withering scorn could hardly ever
+have vanished from her memory&mdash;it was enough to hear his
+bitter laugh, and the accents in which he said, "Thank you,
+Miss Danby&mdash;your wishes are fully reciprocated&mdash;may you
+never know a love less prudent than your own."</p>
+
+<p>The door closed on him, and she was alone&mdash;left to the
+companionship of her own heart&mdash;evil companionship in such
+an hour! She hastened to relate all that had passed to Mary,
+but Mary had no assurances for her&mdash;she had only sympathy
+for Philip&mdash;"dear Philip"&mdash;as she called him over and over
+again. "I think it would better become one so young as you
+are, to say, Mr. Oswald, Mary," said Caroline, pettishly.</p>
+
+<p><a class='page' name ='Page_56' id='Page_56' title='56'>&nbsp;</a>"I have called him Philip from my childhood, Caroline&mdash;I
+shall not begin to say Mr. Oswald <i>now</i>." Mary did not mean a
+reproach, but to Caroline's accusing conscience it sounded like
+one, and she turned away indignantly. She soon, however,
+sought her cousin again with a note in her hand.</p>
+
+<p>"I have been writing to Mrs. Oswald, Mary," she said;
+"you are perhaps too young, and Mr. Oswald too much absorbed
+in his own disappointment, to estimate the propriety of
+my conduct; but she will, I am sure, agree with me, that one
+expensively reared as I have been, accustomed to every luxury,
+and perfectly ignorant of economy, would make the worst possible
+wife to a poor man; and she has so much influence over
+Mr. Oswald, that, should she accord with me in opinion on this
+point, she can easily convince him of its justice. Will you take
+my note to her? I do not like to send it by a servant&mdash;it
+might fall into Philip's hands."</p>
+
+<p>Nothing could have pleased Mary more than this commission,
+for her affectionate heart was longing to offer its sympathy
+to her friends. Mrs. Oswald assumed perhaps a little more
+than her usual stateliness when she heard her announced, but
+it vanished instantly before Mary's tearful eye, as she kissed the
+hand that was extended to her. Mrs. Oswald folded her arms
+around her, and Mary sank sobbing upon the bosom of her
+whom she had come to console. And Mrs. Oswald was consoled
+by such true and tender sympathy. It was long before
+Mary could prevail on herself to disturb the flow of gentler affections
+by delivering Caroline's note. Mrs. Oswald received it
+with an almost contemptuous smile, which remained unchanged
+while she read. It was a labored effort to make her conduct
+seem a generous determination not to obstruct Philip's course
+in life, by binding him to a companion so unsuitable to his
+present prospects as herself. In reply, Mrs. Oswald assured
+Caroline Danby of her perfect agreement with her in the con<a class='page' name ='Page_57' id='Page_57' title='57'>&nbsp;</a>viction
+that she would make a very unsuitable wife for Philip
+Oswald. "This," she added, "was always my opinion, though
+I was unwilling to oppose my son's wishes. I thank you for
+having convinced him I was right in the only point on which
+we ever differed."</p>
+
+<p>It cannot be supposed that this note was very pleasing to
+Caroline Danby; but, whatever were her dissatisfaction, she
+did not complain, and probably soon lost all remembrance of
+her chagrin in the gayeties which a few men of fortune still remained,
+amidst the almost universal ruin, to promote and to
+partake.</p>
+
+<p>In the mean time, Philip Oswald was experiencing that restlessness,
+that burning desire to free himself from all his present
+associations, to begin, as it were, a new life, which the first
+pressure of sorrow so often arouses in the ardent spirit. Had
+not his will been "bound down by the iron chain of necessity,"
+he would probably have returned to Europe, and wasted his energies
+amidst aimless wanderings. As it was, he chose among
+those modes of life demanded by his new circumstances, that
+which would take him farthest from New-York, and place him
+in a condition the most foreign to all his past experience, and
+demanding the most active and most incessant exertion. Out
+of that which the fire, the failure of Insurance Companies and
+of private individuals, had left him remained, after the purchase
+of a liberal annuity for his mother, a few thousands to be devoted
+either to merchandise, to his support while pursuing the
+studies necessary for the acquirement of a profession, or to any
+mode of gaining a living, which he might prefer to these. The
+very hour which ascertained this fact, saw his resolution taken
+and his course marked out.</p>
+
+<p>"I must have new scenery for this new act in the drama of
+my life," he said to his mother. "I must away&mdash;away from
+all the artificialities and trivialities of my present world, to the<a class='page' name ='Page_58' id='Page_58' title='58'>&nbsp;</a>
+rich prairies, the wide streams, the boundless expanse of the
+West. I go to make a new home for you dear mother&mdash;you
+shall be the queen of my kingdom."</p>
+
+<p>This was not the choice that would have pleased an ambitious,
+or an over-fond mother. The former would have preferred
+a profession, as conferring higher social distinction; the
+latter would have shrunk from seeing one nursed in the lap of
+luxury go forth to encounter the hardships of a pioneer. But
+Mrs. Oswald possessed an intelligence which recognized in that
+life of bold adventure, and physical endurance, and persevering
+labor, that awaited her son in the prosecution of his plans, the
+best school for the development of that decision and force of
+character which she had desired as the crowning seal to Philip's
+intellectual endowments, warm affections, and just principles;
+and, holding his excellence as the better part of her own
+happiness, she sanctioned his designs, and did all in her power
+to promote their execution. He waited, therefore, only to see
+her leave the house whose rent now exceeded her whole annual
+income, for pleasant rooms in a boarding-house, agreeably
+situated, before he set out from New-York.</p>
+
+<p>It is not our intention minutely to trace his course, to describe
+the "local habitation" which he acquired, or detail the
+difficulties which arose in his progress, the strength with which
+he combated, or the means by which he overcame them. For
+his course, suffice it that it was westward; for his habitation,
+that it was on the slope of a hill crowned with the gigantic
+trees of that fertile soil, and beside a lake, "a sheet of silver"
+well fitted to be&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"A mirror and a bath for beauty's youngest daughters;"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>and that the house, which he at length succeeded in raising
+and furnishing there, united somewhat the refinement of his
+past life to the simplicity of his present; for his difficulties, we<a class='page' name ='Page_59' id='Page_59' title='59'>&nbsp;</a>
+can only say, he met them and conquered them, and gained
+from each encounter knowledge and power. For two years,
+letters were the only medium of intercourse between his mother
+and himself, but those letters were a history&mdash;a history not
+only of his stirring, outer life, but of that inner life which yet
+more deeply interested her. Feeling proud herself of the daring
+spirit, the iron will, the ready invention which these letters
+displayed, yet prouder of the affectionate heart, the true and
+generous nature, it is not wonderful that Mrs. Oswald should
+have often read them, or at least parts of them, to her constant
+friend and very frequent visitor, Mary Grayson. Nor is it more
+strange that Mary, thus made to recognize in the most interesting
+man she had yet known, far more lofty claims to her admiration,
+should have enshrined him in her young and pure imagination
+as some "bright, particular star."</p>
+
+<p>Two years in the future! How almost interminable seems
+the prospect to our hopes or our affections!&mdash;but let Time
+turn his perspective glass&mdash;let us look at it in the past, and
+how it shrinks and becomes as a day in the history of our
+lives! So was it with Philip Oswald's two years of absence,
+when he found himself, in the earliest dawn of the spring of
+1838, once more in New-York. Yet that time had not passed
+without leaving traces of its passage&mdash;traces in the changes
+affecting those around him&mdash;yet deeper traces in himself.
+He arrived in the afternoon of an earlier day than that on
+which he had been expected. In the evening Mrs. Oswald
+persuaded him to assume, for the gratification of her curiosity,
+the picturesque costume worn by him in his western home.
+He had just re-entered her room, and she was yet engaged in
+animated observation of the hunting-shirt, strapped around the
+waist with a belt of buckskin, the open collar, and loosely
+knotted cravat, which, as the mother's heart whispered, so well
+became that tall and manly form, when there was a slight tap<a class='page' name ='Page_60' id='Page_60' title='60'>&nbsp;</a>
+at the door, and before she could speak, it opened, and Mary
+Grayson stood within it. She gazed in silence for a moment
+on the striking figure before her, and her mind rapidly
+scanned the changes which time and new modes of life had
+made in the Philip Oswald of her memory. As she did so,
+she acknowledged that the embrowned face and hands, the
+broader and more vigorous proportions, and even the easy
+freedom of his dress, were more in harmony with the bold and
+independent aspect which his character had assumed, than the
+delicacy and elegance by which he had formerly been distinguished.
+His outer man was now the true index of a noble,
+free, and energetic spirit&mdash;a spirit which, having conquered
+itself, was victor over all&mdash;and as such, it attracted from Mary
+a deeper and more reverent admiration, than she had felt for
+him when adorned with all the trappings of wealth and luxurious
+refinement. The very depth of this sentiment destroyed
+the ease of her manner towards him, and as Philip Oswald
+took the hand formerly so freely offered him, and heard from
+her lips the respectful Mr. Oswald, instead of the frank, sisterly
+Philip, he said to himself&mdash;"She looks down upon the backwoodsman,
+and would have him know his place." So much
+for man's boasted penetration!</p>
+
+<p>Notwithstanding the barrier of reserve thus erected between
+them, Philip Oswald could not but admire the rare loveliness
+into which Mary Grayson's girlish prettiness had expanded,
+and again, and yet again, while she was speaking to
+his mother, and could not therefore perceive him, he turned
+to gaze on her, fascinated not by the finely turned form or
+beautiful features, but by the countenance beaming with gentle
+and refined intelligence. Here was none of the brilliancy
+which had dazzled his senses in Caroline Danby, but an
+expression of mind and heart far more captivating to him
+who had entered into the inner mysteries of life.</p>
+
+<p><a class='page' name ='Page_61' id='Page_61' title='61'>&nbsp;</a>A fortnight was the limit of Philip Oswald's stay in the
+city. He had come not for his mother, but for the house in
+which she was to live, and he carried it back with him. We
+do not mean that his house, with all its conveniences of
+kitchen and pantry, its elegances of parlor and drawing-room,
+and its decorations of pillar and cornice fitly joined together,
+travelled off with him to the far West. We do not despair of
+seeing such a feat performed some day, but we believe it has
+not yet been done, and Philip Oswald, at least, did not attempt
+it; he took with him, however, all those useful and ornamental
+contrivances in their several parts, accompanied by
+workmen skilled in putting the whole together. Again in his
+western home, for another year, his head and his hands were
+fully occupied with building and planting. For the first two
+years of his forest life, he had thought only of the substantial
+produce of the field&mdash;the rye, the barley, the Indian corn,
+which were to be exchanged for the "omnipotent dollar"&mdash;but
+woman was coming, and beauty and grace must be the
+herald of her steps. For his mother, he planted fruits and
+flowers, opened views of the lake, made a gravelled walk to
+its shore bordered with flowering shrubs, and wreathed the
+woodbine, the honeysuckle, and the multiflora rose around
+the columns of his piazza. For his mother this was done, and
+yet, when the labors of the day were over, and he looked
+forth upon them in the cool, still evening hour, it was not his
+mother's face, but one younger and fairer which peered out
+upon him from the vine-leaves, or with tender smiles wooed
+him to the lake. Young, fair, and tender as it was, its wooings
+generally sent him in an opposite direction, with a sneer
+at his own folly, to stifle his fancies with a book, or to mark
+out the plan of the morrow's operations.</p>
+
+<p>More than a year had passed away and Philip Oswald was
+again in New-York, just as spring was gliding into the ardent<a class='page' name ='Page_62' id='Page_62' title='62'>&nbsp;</a>
+embraces of summer. This time he had come for his mother,
+and with all the force of his resolute will, he shut his ears to
+the flattering suggestions of fancy, that a dearer pleasure
+than even that mother's presence might be won. He had
+looked steadily upon his lot in life, and he accepted it, and determined
+to make the best of it and to be happy in it; yet
+he felt that it was after all a rugged lot. Without considering
+all women as mercenary as Caroline Danby, which his
+knowledge of his mother forbade him to do, even in his most
+woman-scorning mood, he yet doubted whether any of those
+who had been reared amidst the refinements of cultivated life,
+could be won to leave them all for love in the western wilds;
+and as the unrefined could have no charms for him, he deliberately
+embraced <i>bachelordom</i> as a part of his portion, and, not
+without a sigh, yielded himself to the conviction that all the
+wealth of woman's love within his power to attain, was locked
+within a mother's heart.</p>
+
+<p>A fortnight was again the allotted time of Philip Oswald's
+stay; but when that had expired, he was persuaded to delay
+his departure for yet another week. He had been drawn, by accompanying
+his mother in her farewell visits, once more within
+the vortex of society, and his manly independence and energy,
+his knowledge of what was to his companions a new world,
+and his spirit-stirring descriptions of its varied beauty and inexhaustible
+fertility, made him more the fashion than he had
+ever been. He had often met Caroline Danby&mdash;now Mrs.
+Randall&mdash;and Mary more than once delicately turned her eyes
+away from her cousin's face, lest she should read there somewhat
+of chagrin as Mr. Randall, with his meaningless face and
+dapper-looking form&mdash;insignificant in all save the reputation
+of being the wealthiest banker in Wall-street, and possessing
+the most elegant house and furniture, the best appointed<a class='page' name ='Page_63' id='Page_63' title='63'>&nbsp;</a>
+equipage, and the handsomest wife in the city&mdash;stood beside
+Philip Oswald with</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i7">"&mdash;&mdash;a form indeed<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where every god did seem to set his seal,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To give the world assurance of a man,"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>and a face radiant with intelligence, while circled by an
+attentive auditory of that which was noblest and best in their
+world, his eloquent enthusiasm made them hear the rushing
+waters, see the boundless prairies, and feel for a time all the
+wild freedom of the untamed West. Such enthusiasm was
+gladly welcomed as a breeze in the still air, a ruffle in the
+stagnant waters of fashionable life.</p>
+
+<p>Within two or three days of their intended departure, Mrs.
+Oswald proposed to Philip that they should visit a friend residing
+near Fort Lee, and invited Mary to accompany them.
+Among the acquaintances whom they found on board was an
+invalid lady, who could not bear the fresh air upon deck; and
+Mary, pitying her loneliness and seclusion, remained for awhile
+conversing with her in the cabin. Mrs. Oswald and Philip
+were on deck, and near them was a young and giddy girl, to
+whose care a mother had intrusted a bold, active, joyous infant,
+seemingly about eight months old.</p>
+
+<p>"That is a dangerous position for so lively a child," said
+Philip Oswald to the young nurse, as he saw her place him on
+the side of the boat; "he may spring from your arms overboard."</p>
+
+<p>With that foolish tempting of the danger pointed out by
+another, which we sometimes see even in women, the girl
+removed her arms from around the child, sustaining only a
+slight hold of its frock. At this moment the flag of the boat
+floated within view of the little fellow, and he sprang towards
+it. A splash in the water told the rest&mdash;but even before that<a class='page' name ='Page_64' id='Page_64' title='64'>&nbsp;</a>
+was heard, Philip Oswald had dashed off his boots and coat,
+and the poor child had scarcely touched the waves when he
+was beside it, and held it encircled in his arm.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, Mary! Mr. Oswald! Mr. Oswald!" cried one of
+Mary's young acquaintances, rushing into the cabin with a face
+blanched with terror.</p>
+
+<p>"What of him?" questioned Mary, starting eagerly forward.</p>
+
+<p>"He is in the water. Oh, Mary! he will be drowned."</p>
+
+<p>Mary did not utter a sound, yet she felt in that moment,
+for the first time, how important to her was Philip Oswald's
+life. Tottering towards the door, she leaned against it for a
+moment while all around grew dark, and strange sounds were
+buzzing in her ears. The next instant she sank into a chair and
+lost her terrors in unconsciousness. The same young lady who
+had played the alarmist to her, as she saw the paleness of death
+settle on Mary's face and her eyes close, ran again upon the
+deck, exclaiming, "Mary Grayson is fainting,&mdash;pray come to
+Mary Grayson."</p>
+
+<p>Philip Oswald was already on deck, dripping indeed, but
+unharmed and looking nobler than ever, as he held the
+recovered child in his arms. As that cry, "Mary Grayson is
+fainting," reached his ears, he threw the infant to a bystander,
+and hastened to the cabin followed by Mrs. Oswald.</p>
+
+<p>"What has caused this?" cried Mrs. Oswald, as she saw
+Mary still insensible, supported on the bosom of her invalid friend.</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Ladson's precipitation," said the invalid, looking not
+very pleasantly on that young lady; "she told her Mr. Oswald
+was drowning."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I am sure I thought he was drowning."</p>
+
+<p>"If he had been, it would have been a pity to give such
+information so abruptly," said Mrs. Oswald, as she took off
+Mary's bonnet, and loosened the scarf which was tied around
+her neck.</p>
+
+<p><a class='page' name ='Page_65' id='Page_65' title='65'>&nbsp;</a>"I am sure," exclaimed Miss Ladson, anxious only to secure
+herself from blame,&mdash;"I am sure I did not suppose Mary would
+faint; for when her uncle's horse threw him, and every body
+thought he was killed, instead of fainting she ran out in the
+street, and did for him more than any body else could do. I
+am sure I could not think she would care more for Mr. Oswald's
+danger than for her own uncle's."</p>
+
+<p>No one replied to this insinuation; but that Philip Oswald
+heard it, might have been surmised from the sudden flush that
+rose to his temples, and from his closer clasp of the unconscious
+form, which at his mother's desire he was bearing to a settee.
+Whether it were the water which oozed from his saturated
+garments over her face and neck, or some subtle magnetic fluid
+conveyed in that tender clasp, that aroused her, we cannot tell;
+but a faint tinge of color revisited her cheeks and lips, and as
+Philip laid her tenderly down, while his arms were still around
+her, and his face was bending over her, she opened her eyes.
+What there was in that first look which called such a sudden
+flash of joy into Philip Oswald's eyes, we know not; nor what
+were the whispered words which, as he bowed his head yet
+lower, sent a crimson glow into Mary's pale cheeks. This
+however we do know, that Mrs. Oswald and her son delayed
+their journey for yet another week; and that the day before
+their departure Philip Oswald stood with Mary Grayson at his
+side before God's holy altar, and there, in the presence of his
+mother, Mr. Danby, Mr. and Mrs. Randall, and a few friends,
+they took those vows which made them one for ever.</p>
+
+<p>Does some starched prude, or some lady interested in the
+bride's <i>trousseau</i>, exclaim against such unseemly haste? We
+have but one excuse for them. They were so unfashionable as
+to prefer the gratification of a true affection to the ceremonies
+so dear to vanity, and to think more of the earnest claims of
+life than of its gilded pomps.</p>
+
+<p><a class='page' name ='Page_66' id='Page_66' title='66'>&nbsp;</a>Mr. Danby had been unable to pay down the bride's small
+dower of 8000 dollars; and when he called on his son-in-law,
+Mr. Randall, to assist him, he could only offer to indorse his
+note to Mr. Oswald for the amount, acknowledging that it would
+be perilous at that time to abstract even half that amount from
+his business. It probably would have been perilous indeed, as
+in little more than a month after he failed for an enormous
+amount; but fear not, reader, for the gentle Caroline: she still
+retained her elegant house and furniture, her handsome equipage
+and splendid jewels. These were only a small part of what
+the indignant creditors found had been made over to her by
+her grateful husband.</p>
+
+<p>Six years have passed away since the occurrence of the
+events we have been recording. Caroline Randall, weary of
+the sameness of splendor in her home, has been abroad for
+two years, travelling with a party of friends. It is said&mdash;convenient
+phrase that&mdash;that her husband had declared she must
+and shall return, and that to enforce his will he has resolved to
+send her no more remittances, to honor no more of her drafts,
+as she has already almost beggared him by her extravagance
+abroad. Verily, she has her reward!</p>
+
+<p>One farewell glance at our favorite, Mary Grayson, and we
+have done.</p>
+
+<p>Beside a lovely lake, over whose margin light graceful
+shrubs are bending, and on whose transparent waters lie the
+dense forest shadows, though here and there the golden rays of
+the declining sun flash through the tangled boughs upon its
+dancing waves, a noble-looking boy of four years old is sailing
+his mimic fleet, while a lovely girl, two years younger, toddles
+about, picking "pitty flowers," and bringing them to "papa,
+mamma, or grandmamma," as her capricious fancy prompts.
+Near by, papa, mamma, grandmamma, and one pleased and
+honored guest, are grouped beneath the bending boughs of a<a class='page' name ='Page_67' id='Page_67' title='67'>&nbsp;</a>
+magnificent black walnut, and around a table on which strawberries
+and cream, butter sweet as the breath of the cows that
+yielded it, biscuits light and white, and bread as good as
+Humbert himself could make, are served in a style of elegant
+simplicity, while the silver urn in which the water hisses, and
+the small china cups into which the fragrant tea is poured, if
+they are somewhat antique in fashion, are none the less
+beautiful or the less valued by those who still prize the
+slightest object associated with the affections beyond the gratification
+of the vanity.</p>
+
+<p>The evening meal is over. The shadows grow darker on
+the lake. Agreeable conversation has given place to silent
+enjoyment, which Mrs. Oswald interrupts to say, "Philip, this
+is the hour for music; let us have some before Mary leaves us
+with the children."</p>
+
+<p>Full, deep-toned was the manly voice that swelled upon
+that evening air, and soft and clear its sweet accompaniment,
+while the words, full of adoring gratitude and love, seemed
+incense due to the heaven which had so blessed them.</p>
+
+<p>The last sweet notes had died away, and Mary, calling the
+children, leads them to their quiet repose, after they have bestowed
+their good-night kisses. Philip Oswald follows her
+with his eyes, as, with a child on each hand, she advances with
+gentle grace upon the easy slope, to the house on its summit.
+She enters the piazza, and is screened from his view by its lattice-work
+of vines, but he knows that soon his children will be
+lisping their evening prayer at her knee, and the thought calls
+a tender expression to his eyes as he turns them away from his
+"sweet home."</p>
+
+<p>Contrast this picture with that of Caroline Randall's heartless
+splendor, and say whether thou wilt choose for thy portion
+the gratification of the true and pure household affections
+which Heaven has planted in thy nature, or that of a selfish
+vanity?</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a class='page' name ='Page_68' id='Page_68' title='68'>&nbsp;</a><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a><a href="#CONTENTS">CHAPTER V.</a></h2>
+
+
+<p>This morning, as I sat in the library writing a letter, Annie
+came in and seated herself at a table on the opposite side of
+the room. Her unusual stillness caused me to look up after
+some minutes, and I found that Mr. Arlington's portfolio having
+been left upon the table, she had drawn from it one of his pencilings,
+and was gazing steadfastly upon it, as I could not but
+think, with something troubled in the expression of her usually
+open and cheerful face. While I was still observing her, the
+door behind her opened, and Mr. Arlington himself entered. A
+blush arose to Annie's cheeks as she saw him; a blush which
+had its origin, I thought, in some deeper feeling than a mere
+girlish shame at being found so engrossed by one of his productions.</p>
+
+<p>"What have you there?" he asked, as seating himself
+beside her, he took the paper from what seemed to me her somewhat
+reluctant hand. No sooner had he looked on it, than his
+own bright face became shadowed, as hers had been, and yet
+he smiled, too, as he said, "That portfolio is really an <i>omnium
+gatherum</i>. I had no idea this had found its way there. When
+I first read Mrs. Hemans' poem of 'The Bird's Release,' it reminded
+me of this scene of my boyhood, though if I have never
+spoken to you of my darling Grace, you will not be able to understand
+why."</p>
+
+<p><a class='page' name ='Page_69' id='Page_69' title='69'>&nbsp;</a>"You never have," said Annie, answering his looks rather
+than his words, while a slight increase of color was again perceptible in her fair cheek.</p>
+
+<p>"She was my sister, my only sister; we were but two, the
+petted darlings of a widowed mother. I told you, that few could
+sympathize as I could with K&ouml;rner's memory of Mother-love.
+I was but six years old, and just such a chubby, broad-shouldered
+little varlet, I fancy, as I have sketched here, when Grace,
+who was two years older, and the loveliest, merriest little creature
+in the world, died. My mother was already beginning to
+feel the influence of that disease, which, two years later, terminated
+her life, and, I have no doubt, the death of Grace, who
+was her idol, increased the rapidity of its progress."</p>
+
+<p>There was silence for some minutes, and then Annie said
+softly, "But what of the bird?"</p>
+
+<p>"It was a thrush which had been given to Grace some time
+before her death, and which she was trying to tame for me.
+My mother could not bear to see it after her death, and with
+some difficulty persuaded me to give it its liberty. You will
+now see why I should have dedicated this sketch to Grace,
+and why these lines should have brought the scene to my
+mind, and caused me indeed to make this drawing of it."</p>
+
+<p>"Will you read the lines for me?" asked Annie, "I had
+not finished them when you took the paper from me."</p>
+
+<p>To tell you a secret, reader, I do not believe she had seen
+any thing on the paper except the few words in German text
+written at its head, "To my darling Grace."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Arlington read in a tone of feeling and interest,&mdash;</p>
+
+
+<h3><a class='page' name ='Page_70' id='Page_70' title='70'>&nbsp;</a><a name="THE_BIRDS_RELEASE" id="THE_BIRDS_RELEASE"></a><a href="#CONTENTS">THE BIRD'S RELEASE.</a></h3>
+
+<h4>BY MRS. HEMANS.</h4>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table class='poem' border='0'><tr><td>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Go forth, for she is gone!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With the golden light of her wavy hair<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She is gone to the fields of the viewless air:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She hath left her dwelling lone!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Her voice hath pass'd away!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It hath passed away like a summer breeze,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When it leaves the hills for the for blue seas,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where we may not trace its way.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Go forth, and like her be free:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With thy radiant wing, and thy glancing eye,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thou hast all the range of the sunny sky,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And what is our grief to thee?<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Is it aught even to her we mourn?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Doth she look on the tears by her kindred shed?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Doth she rest with the flowers o'er her gentle head?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or float on the light wind borne?<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">We know not&mdash;but she is gone!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her step from the dance, her voice from the song,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the smile of her eye from the festal throng;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">She hath loft her dwelling lone!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">When the waves at sunset shine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We may hear thy voice amidst thousands more,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In the scented woods of our glowing shore;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But we shall not know 'tis thine!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Even so with the loved one flown!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her smile in the starlight may wander by,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her breath may be near in the wind's low sigh<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Around us&mdash;but all unknown.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0"><a class='page' name ='Page_71' id='Page_71' title='71'>&nbsp;</a>Go forth, we have loosed thy chains!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We may deck thy cage with the richest flowers<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which the bright day rears in our eastern bowers;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But thou wilt not be lured again.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Even thus may the summer pour<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All fragrant things on the land's green breast,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the glorious earth like a bride be dress'd;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But it wins <i>her</i> back no more!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+</td></tr></table></div>
+
+<p>I was doubtful whether either Mr. Arlington or Annie were
+aware of my presence, and was just debating with myself whether
+I should make them aware of it by addressing them, or
+quietly steal away, when Col. Donaldson decided the point by
+entering the library and speaking to me. He came to ask that
+I would come to the parlor and see a boy who had just been
+sent from one of our charitable institutions, to which he had
+applied for a lad to act as a helper to his old waiter, John, who
+was now old enough to require some indulgence, and had always
+been trustworthy enough to deserve some. The boy
+looked intelligent and honest&mdash;he was neat in his person and
+active in his movements.</p>
+
+<p>"He is an orphan," said Col. Donaldson, "and the managers
+of the institution have offered to bind him to me for seven
+years, or till he is of age. What do you think of it!"</p>
+
+<p>"If the boy himself be willing, I should be glad to know he
+was so well provided for," I replied; "though in general, no
+abolitionist can be more vehemently opposed to negro slavery
+than I am to this apprenticeship business. What is it but a
+slavery of the worst description? The master is endowed with
+irresponsible power, without the interest in the well-being of
+his slave, which the planter, the actual owner of slaves, ordinarily
+feels."</p>
+
+<p>"You speak strongly," said Col. Donaldson.</p>
+
+<p>"I feel strongly on this subject," I answered. "I knew<a class='page' name ='Page_72' id='Page_72' title='72'>&nbsp;</a>
+one instance of the effects of this system which I have often
+thought of publishing to the world, as speaking more powerfully
+against it than a thousand addresses could do."</p>
+
+<p>"Tell it to us, Aunt Nancy," said Robert Dudley.</p>
+
+<p>"It is too long to tell now," said I, as the dinner-bell
+sounded.</p>
+
+<p>"Then let us have it this evening," urged Col. Donaldson&mdash;"for
+it is a subject in which I am much interested."</p>
+
+<p>Accordingly, in the evening, I gave them the "o'er true
+tale" of</p>
+
+
+<h3><a name="THE_YOUNG_MISANTHROPE" id="THE_YOUNG_MISANTHROPE"></a><a href="#CONTENTS">THE YOUNG MISANTHROPE.</a></h3>
+
+<p>"In the blue summer ocean, far off and alone," lies a little
+island, known to mariners in the Pacific only for the fine
+water with which it supplies them, and for the bold shore which
+makes it possible for ships of considerable tonnage to lie in
+quiet near the land. Discovered at first by accident, it has
+been long, for these reasons, visited both by English and American
+whalers. A few years since, and no trace of man's presence
+could be found there beyond the belt of rocks, amidst
+which arose the springs that were the chief, and indeed only
+attraction the island presented to the rough, hardy men by
+whom it had been visited. But within that stony girdle lay a
+landscape soft and lovely as any that arose within the tropical
+seas. There the plantain waved its leafy crown, the orange
+shed its rich perfume, and bore its golden fruit aloft upon the
+desert air, and the light, feathery foliage of the tamarind moved
+gracefully to the touch of the dallying breeze. All was green,
+and soft, and fair, for there no winter chills the life of nature,
+but,</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"The bee banquets on through a whole year of flowers."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>It was a scene which might have seemed created for the<a class='page' name ='Page_73' id='Page_73' title='73'>&nbsp;</a>
+abode of some being too bright and good for the common
+earth of common men, or for some Hinda and Hafed, who,
+driven from a world all too harsh and evil for their nobler natures,
+might have found in it a refuge,</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Where the bright eyes of angels only<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Should come around them to behold<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A paradise so pure and lonely."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>Alas for the dream of the poet! This beautiful island became
+the refuge, not of pure and loving hearts, but of one from
+whose nature cruel tyranny seemed to have blotted out every
+feeling and every faculty save hatred and fear; and he who
+first introduced into its yet untainted solitudes the bitter sorrows
+and dark passions of humanity, was a child, who, but ten years
+before, had lain in all the loveliness of sinless infancy upon a
+mother's bosom. Of that mother's history he knew nothing&mdash;whether
+her sin or only her sorrows had thrown him fatherless
+upon the world, he was ignorant&mdash;he had only a dim memory
+of gentle eyes, which had looked on him as no others had ever
+looked, and of a low, sweet voice, speak to him such words as
+he had never heard from any other. He had been loved, and
+that love had made his life of penury in an humble hovel in
+England, bright and beautiful; but his mother had passed away
+from earth, and with her all the light of his existence. Child
+as he was, the succeeding darkness preserved long in brightness
+the memory of the last look from her fast glazing eyes, the last
+words from her dying lips, the last touch of her already death-cold
+hand. She died, and the same reluctant charity which
+consigned her to a pauper's grave, gave to her boy a dwelling
+in the parish poor-house. With the tender mercies of such institutions
+the author of Oliver Twist has made the world acquainted.
+They were such in the present case, that the poor
+little Edward Hallett welcomed as the first glad words that had<a class='page' name ='Page_74' id='Page_74' title='74'>&nbsp;</a>
+fallen on his ears for two long, weary years, the news that he
+was to be bound apprentice to a captain sailing from Portsmouth
+in a whaling ship. He learned rather from what was
+said <i>near</i> him, than <i>to</i> him, that this man wanted a cabin boy,
+but would not have one who was not bound to him, or to use
+the more expressive language in which it reached the ears of
+his destined victim, "one with whom he could not do as he
+pleased."</p>
+
+<p>He who had come within the poor-house walls at six years
+old, a glad, rosy-cheeked, chubby child, went from them at
+eight, thin, and pale, and grave, with a frame broken by want
+and labor, a mind clouded, and a heart repressed by unkindness.
+But, sad as was the history of those years, the succeeding two
+taught the poor boy to regard them as the vanished brightness
+of a dream. The man&mdash;we should more justly say, the fiend&mdash;to
+whom the next fourteen years of his life were by bond devoted,
+was a savage by nature, and had been rendered yet more
+brutal by habits of intoxication. In his drunken orgies, his favorite
+pastime was to torture the unfortunate being whom the
+"guardians of the poor" of an English parish had placed in his
+power. It would make the heart of the reader sick, were we
+to attempt a detail of the many horrible inventions by which this
+modern Caligula amused his leisure hours, and made life hideous
+to his victim. Nor was it only from this arch-fiend that
+the poor boy suffered. Mate, cook, and sailors, soon found in
+him a butt for their jokes, an object on which they might safely
+vent their ill-humor, and a convenient cover for their own delinquencies.</p>
+
+<p>He was beaten for and by them. The evil qualities which
+man had himself elicited from his nature, if not implanted there&mdash;the
+sullenness, and hardiness, and cunning he evinced, were
+made an excuse for further injury. During his first voyage of
+eighteen months, spite of all this, hope was not entirely dead in<a class='page' name ='Page_75' id='Page_75' title='75'>&nbsp;</a>
+his heart. The ship was to return to England, and he determined
+to run away from her, and find his way back to the
+poor-house. It was a miserable refuge, but it was his only one.
+He escaped&mdash;he found his way thither through many dangers&mdash;he
+told his story. It was heard with incredulity, and he was
+returned to his tormentors, to learn that there is even in hell "a
+deeper hell."</p>
+
+<p>Again he went on a whaling voyage. Day after day the
+fathomless, the seemingly illimitable sea, the image of the Infinite
+was around him&mdash;but his darkened mind saw in it only
+a prison, which shut him in with his persecutors. Night after
+night the stars beamed peacefully above him, luring his thoughts
+upward, but he saw in them only the signals of drunken revelry
+to others, and of deeper woe to himself. There was but one
+wish in his heart&mdash;it had almost ceased to be a hope&mdash;to escape
+from man; to live and die where he should never see his form,
+never hear his voice. The ship encountered a severe storm.
+She was driven from her course, her voyage lengthened, and
+some of her water-casks were stove in. They made for an island,
+not far distant, by the chart, to take in a fresh supply of
+water. Edward Hallett heard the sailors say to each other that
+this island was uninhabited, and his wish grew into a passionate
+desire&mdash;a hope. For the completion of this hope, he had
+but one resource&mdash;the sword and the shield of the feeble&mdash;cunning;
+and well he exercised his weapon.</p>
+
+<p>The ship lay within a quarter of a mile of the shore, and a
+boat was sent to procure water&mdash;one man remaining always to
+fill the empty vessels while the others returned to the ship with
+those already filled. The best means of accomplishing his purpose
+that occurred to the poor boy was to feign the utmost degree
+of terror at the lonely and unprotected situation of this
+man during the absence of his comrades. He spoke his terrors
+where he knew they would be heard by the prime author of
+his miseries. The result was what he had anticipated.</p>
+
+<p><a class='page' name ='Page_76' id='Page_76' title='76'>&nbsp;</a>"Ye're afraid, are ye, of being left there by yerself! Ye'd
+rather be whipped, or tied up by the thumbs, or be kept at the
+mast-head all night, would ye? Then, dam'me, that's just
+what I'll do to you. Here, hold on with that boat&mdash;take this
+youngster with you, and you can bring back Tom, and leave
+him to fill the casks for you."</p>
+
+<p>Well did the object of his tyranny act his part. He entreated,
+he adjured all around him to save him from so dreaded
+a fate&mdash;in vain, of course&mdash;for his affected agonies only riveted
+the determination of his tyrant. It was a new delight to see
+him writhe in agony, and strive to draw back from those who
+were urging him to the boat. He was forced in, borne to the
+island, and left to his task. But this was not enough. He could
+not escape in the broad light of day, from a spot directly under
+the eyes of his tormentors, while between him and the ship a
+boat was ever coming and going. Through the day he must
+persist in the part he had assumed. He did not fail to continue
+it, and when the day approached its close, he sent to the ship
+the most urgent entreaties that he might be allowed to return
+there before it was night. The sailors, rough and hard as they
+generally were to him, sympathized with his agony of fear, and
+asked that he might return; but his demon was now inflamed
+by drink, and every word in favor of his petition insured its rejection.
+He even made the unusual exertion of going up himself
+in the last boat, that he might see the victim of his malice,
+and feast his ears with the cries and objurgations which terror
+would wring from him.</p>
+
+<p>"If we should forget you in the morning, you can take the
+next homeward bound ship that stops here, but don't tell your
+friends at the poor-house too bad a tale of us," were the parting
+words of this wretch.</p>
+
+<p>Darkness and silence were around the desolate boy, but they
+brought no fear with them. Man, his enemy, was not there.<a class='page' name ='Page_77' id='Page_77' title='77'>&nbsp;</a>
+He saw not the beauty of the heavens, from which the stars
+looked down on him in their unchanged serenity, or of the
+earth, where flowers were springing at his feet, and graceful
+shrubs were waving over him. He heard not the deep-toned
+sea uttering its solemn music, or the breeze whispering its softer
+notes in his ear. He only saw the ship, the abode of men, fading
+into indistinctness, as the darkness threw its veil over it; he
+only heard the voice in his heart, proclaiming ever and
+again, "I am free." Before the morrow dawned, he had surmounted
+the rocks at the landing place, and wandered on with
+no aim, but to put as great a distance as possible between him
+and the ship. Two hours' walking brought him again to the
+sea, in an opposite direction to that by which he had approached
+the island. Here he crawled into a hiding-place among the
+rocks, and lay down to rest. The day was again declining
+before he ventured forth from his covert, and cautiously approached
+the distant shore, whence he might see the ship. He
+reached the spring by which he had stood yester eve, when his
+companions parted from him, with something like pity stirring
+in the hearts of all but one among them. Fearfully he looked
+around&mdash;before him&mdash;but no shadow on the earth, no sail upon
+the pathless sea, told of man's presence. He was alone&mdash;alone
+indeed, for the beauty of Nature aroused no emotion in his
+withered heart, and he held no communion with Nature's God.
+He was indeed an orphaned soul. Could he have loved, had it
+been but a simple flower, he would have felt something of the
+joy of life; but the very power of love seemed to have been
+crushed from his heart, by years of cold neglect and harsh unkindness.</p>
+
+<p>Weeks, months passed, without any event that might
+awaken the young solitary from his torpor. By day, he roved
+through the island, or lay listlessly under the shadow of a tree;
+by night, he slept beneath the rocks which had first sheltered<a class='page' name ='Page_78' id='Page_78' title='78'>&nbsp;</a>
+him; while the fruits, that grew and ripened without his care,
+gave him food. Thus he lived a merely animal life, his strongest
+sensation one of satisfaction for his relief from positive suffering,
+but with nothing that could be called joy in the present,
+and with no hope for the future; one to whom God had given
+an immortal spirit, capable of infinite elevation in the scale of
+intelligence and happiness, and whom man had pressed down
+to&mdash;ay, below&mdash;the level of the brutes, which sported away
+their brief existence at his side. Such tyranny as he had experienced,
+is rare; but its results may well give an impressive, a
+fearful lesson, to those to whom are committed the destinies of
+a being unconnected with them by any of those ties which
+awaken tenderness, and call forth indulgence in the sternest
+minds. Let them beware, lest the "iron rule" crush out the
+life of the young heart, and darken the intellect by extinguishing
+the light of hope.</p>
+
+<p>Terrible was the retribution which his crimes wrought out
+for the author of our young hero's miseries. When he received
+the intelligence from the men whom he had sent in the morning
+to bring him from the island, that he was nowhere to be found,
+he read in their countenance what his own heart was ready to
+repeat to him, that he was his murderer; for neither they nor
+he doubted that the terrified boy had rushed into the sea, and
+been drowned in the effort to escape the horrors raised by his
+wild and superstitious fancy. From that hour his persecutor
+suffered tortures as great as his bitterest enemies could have desired
+to inflict on him. The images which drove him with increased
+eagerness to the bottle, became more vivid and terrific
+under the influence of intoxication. He drank deeper and deeper,
+in the vain hope to banish them, and died ere many months
+had passed, shouting, in his last moments, alternate prayers and
+curses to the imagined form of him whom he supposed the hope
+of revenge had conjured from the ocean grave to which his
+cruelties had consigned him.</p>
+
+<p><a class='page' name ='Page_79' id='Page_79' title='79'>&nbsp;</a>Five months passed over Edward Hallett, in the dead calm
+of an existence agitated by neither hope nor fear. The calm
+was broken one evening by the sight of a seaman, drawing
+water from the spring which had brought his former companions
+to the island. As he came in sight, the man turned his head,
+and stood for an instant spell-bound by the unexpected vision
+of a human being on that island, whose matted locks and
+tattered garments spoke the extreme of misery. There was
+only one hope for the sad wild boy&mdash;it was in flight&mdash;and
+turning, he ran swiftly back; but the path was strewn with
+rocks, and, in his haste, he stumbled and fell. In a moment
+his pursuer stood beside him, acclaiming in a coarse, but kindly
+meant language:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"What the devil are you runnin' away from me for,
+youngster?&mdash;I'm sure I wouldn't hurt ye&mdash;but get up, and tell
+us what you're doing here, and where ye've come from."</p>
+
+<p>The speaker attempted, while addressing the boy, to raise
+him from the ground, but he resisted all his efforts, and met all
+his questioning with sullen silence.</p>
+
+<p>"By the powers, I'm thinking I've caught a wild man. I
+wonder if there's any more of 'em. If I can only get this one
+aboard, he'll make my fortune. I'll try for it, any how, and
+offer the capting to go shares with my bargain;" and he proceeded
+to lift the slight form of the pauper boy in his brawny
+arms, and bear him to the boat, which, during the scene, had
+approached the shore. One who had had less experience of the
+iron nature of man, would have endeavored, in Edward Hallett's
+circumstances, to move his captor by entreaties to leave him to
+his dearly prized freedom; but he had long believed, with the
+poet,</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"There is no pulse in man's obdurate heart&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It does not feel for man;"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>and after the first wild struggle, which had only served to show<a class='page' name ='Page_80' id='Page_80' title='80'>&nbsp;</a>
+that he was an infant in the hands of the strong seaman, he
+abandoned himself to his fate, in silent despair. With closed
+eyes and lips, he suffered himself, without a movement, to be
+borne to the boat, and deposited in it, amidst the many uncouth
+and characteristic exclamations of his captor and his companions,
+who would not be convinced that it was really a child of the
+human race, thus strangely found on this isolated spot. Hastily
+they bore him to the ship, which the providence of God had
+sent, under the guidance of a kind and noble spirit, for the
+salvation of this, his not forgotten, though long tried creature.</p>
+
+<p>Captain Durbin, of the barque Good Intent, was one who
+combined, in no usual degree, the qualities of boldness and
+energy with the kindest, the tenderest, and most generous
+feelings. These were wrought into beautiful harmony, by the
+Christian principles which had long governed his life, and from
+which he had learned to be, at the same time, "diligent in
+business" and "kindly affectioned"&mdash;to have no <i>fear</i> of man,
+and to love his brother, whom he had seen, as the best
+manifestation of devotion to God, whom he had not seen.
+Perhaps he had escaped the usual effect of his rough trade, in
+hardening the manners, at least, by the influence on him of his
+only child, a little girl, now six years old, who was his constant
+companion, even in his voyages. Little Emily Durbin had lost
+her mother when she was only two years old. The circumstances
+of her own childhood had wrought into the mind
+of the dying Mrs. Durbin, the conviction that only a parent is
+a fitting guardian for a child. To all argument on this subject
+she would reply, "It seems to me that God has put so much
+love into a parent's heart, only that he may bear with all a
+child's waywardness, which other people can't be expected to
+bear with."</p>
+
+<p>True to her principles, she had exacted a promise from her<a class='page' name ='Page_81' id='Page_81' title='81'>&nbsp;</a>
+husband, in her dying hour, that he would never part from their
+Emily. The promise had been sacredly kept.</p>
+
+<p>"I will retire from sea as soon as I have enough to buy a
+place on shore, for Emily's sake; but till then, her home must
+be in my cabin. She is under God's care there, as well as on
+shore, and perhaps it would be better for her, should I be lost at
+sea, to share my fate." Such were the remarks of Captain
+Durbin, in reply to the well-meant remonstrances of his friends.</p>
+
+<p>Emily had a little hammock slung beside his own&mdash;the
+books in which he taught her made a large part of his library;
+and he who had seen her kneel beside her father to lisp her
+childish prayer, or who had heard the simple, beautiful faith
+with which she commended herself to the care of her Father in
+Heaven, when the waves roared and the winds howled around
+her floating home, would have felt, perhaps, that the most important
+end of life, the cultivation of those affections that connect
+us with God and with our fellow-creatures, might be attained as
+perfectly there as elsewhere.</p>
+
+<p>The astonishment of Captain Durbin and the pity of his
+gentle child may be conceived, at the sight of the poor boy, who
+was brought up from the boat by his captor and owner, as he
+considered himself, and laid at their feet, while they sat together
+in their cabin&mdash;he writing in his log-book, and she conning her
+evening lesson. To the proposition that he should give the
+prize so strangely obtained a free passage, and share in the
+advantages to be gained by its exhibition in America, Captain
+Durbin replied by showing the disappointed seaman the impossibility
+of the object of these speculations being some product
+of Nature's freaks&mdash;some hitherto unknown animal, with the
+form, but without the faculties of man.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you not see that he has clothes&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Clothes do ye call them!" interrupted the blunt sailor,<a class='page' name ='Page_82' id='Page_82' title='82'>&nbsp;</a>
+touching the pieces of cloth that hung around, but no longer
+covered the thin limbs.</p>
+
+<p>"Rags, perhaps I had better say&mdash;but the rags have been
+clothes, woven and sewn by man's hands&mdash;so he must have
+lived among men&mdash;civilized men&mdash;and he has grown but little,
+as you may perceive, since those clothes were made&mdash;therefore,
+he cannot have been long on the island."</p>
+
+<p>"But how did he get there? Who'd leave a baby like this
+there by himself?"</p>
+
+<p>"That we may never know, for the boy must either be an
+idiot&mdash;which he does not look like, however&mdash;or insane, or
+dumb&mdash;but let that be as it will, we will do our duty by him,
+and I thank God for having sent us here in time to save him."</p>
+
+<p>The master of the ship usually gives the tone to those whom
+he commands, and Captain Durbin found no difficulty in
+obtaining the help of his men in his kind intentions to the boy
+so strangely brought amongst them. By kind, yet rough
+hands, he was washed, his hair was cut and combed, and a
+suit of clean, though coarse garments, hastily fitted to him by
+the best tailor among them&mdash;fitted, not with the precision of
+Stultz certainly, but sufficiently well to enable him to walk in
+them without danger of walking on them or of leaving them
+behind. But he showed no intention of availing himself of
+these capabilities. Wherever they carried him he went without
+resistance&mdash;wherever they placed him he remained&mdash;he ate the
+food that was offered him&mdash;but no word escaped his lips, no
+voluntary movement was made by him, no look marked his
+consciousness of aught that passed before him. He had again
+assumed his only shield from violence&mdash;cunning. He could
+account in no way for his being left unmolested, except from
+the belief, freely expressed before him, that nature, by depriving
+him of intelligence, or of speech, had unfitted him for labor, and
+he resolved to do nothing that should unsettle that belief. But<a class='page' name ='Page_83' id='Page_83' title='83'>&nbsp;</a>
+he found it more difficult than he had supposed it would be to
+preserve this resolution, for he was subjected to the action of a
+more potent influence than any he had yet encountered&mdash;kindness.
+All were ready to show him this in its common forms,
+but none so touchingly or so tenderly as the little Emily Durbin.
+It was a beautiful sight to see that gentle child, with eyes blue
+as the heavens, whose pure and lovely spirit they seemed to
+mirror, gazing up at the dark boy as though she hoped to catch
+some ray of the awakening spirit flitting over the handsome but
+stolid features. Sometimes she would sit beside him, take his
+hand in hers, or stroke gently the dark locks that began again
+to hang in neglected curls around his face, and speak to him in
+the tenderest accents, saying, "I love you very much, pretty
+boy, and my father loves you too, and we all love you&mdash;don't
+you love us?&mdash;but you can't tell me&mdash;I forgot that&mdash;never
+mind, I'll ask our Heavenly Father to make you talk. Don't
+you know Jesus made the dumb to speak when he was here on
+earth? Did you ever hear about it? Poor boy! you can't
+answer me&mdash;but I'll tell you all about it:" and then in her
+sweet words and pitying voice she would tell of the Saviour of
+men&mdash;how he had made the deaf to hear and the dumb to
+speak, and she would repeat his lessons of love, dwelling often
+on her favorite text, "This is my commandment, that ye love
+one another&mdash;even as I have loved you, that ye also love one
+another."</p>
+
+<p>Thus by this babe, God was in his love leading the chilled
+heart of that poor, desolate boy, back to himself&mdash;to hope&mdash;to
+heaven. It was impossible that the dew of mercy should thus,
+day by day and hour by hour, distil upon a spirit indurated by
+man's cruelties, without softening it. Edward Hallett began to
+love that sweet child, to listen to her step and voice, to gaze
+upon her fair face, to return her loving looks, and to long to
+tell her all his story. Emily became aware of the new<a class='page' name ='Page_84' id='Page_84' title='84'>&nbsp;</a>
+expression in his face, and redoubled her manifestations of
+interest. She entreated that he should be brought in when
+her father read the Bible and prayed with her, night and
+morning. "Who knows, it may be that our Heavenly Father
+will make him hear us," was her simple and pathetic response
+to Captain Durbin's assurance that it was useless, as he either
+could not or would not understand them. Never had Edward
+Hallett's resolution been more severely tried than when he saw
+her kneel, with clasped hands and uplifted face, at her father's
+knee, and heard her pray in her own simple words that "God
+would bless the poor little dumb boy whom he had sent to
+them, and that he would make him speak, and give him a
+good heart, that he might love them." Captain Durbin turned
+his eyes upon the object of her prayer at that moment, and he
+almost thought that his lips moved, and was quite certain that
+his eyes glistened with emotion. From this time he was as
+anxious as Emily herself for the attendance of the strange boy
+at their devotions.</p>
+
+<p>For many weeks the ship had sped across that southern
+sea with light and favoring breezes, but at length there came a
+storm. The heavens were black with clouds&mdash;the wind swept
+furiously over the ocean, and drove its wild waves in tremendous
+masses against the reeling ship. Captain Durbin was a bold
+sailor, as we have said, and he had weathered many a storm in
+his trim barque; but Emily knew by the way in which he pressed
+her to his heart this night, before he laid her, not in her
+hammock, but on the narrow floor of his state-room, and by
+the tone in which he ejaculated, "God bless you, and take care
+of you, my beloved child!"&mdash;that there was more danger tonight
+than they had ever before encountered together; and as
+he was leaving her she drew him back and said, "Father, I
+can't sleep, and I should like to talk to the little dumb boy;
+won't you bring him here, and let him sit on my mattress with
+me?"</p>
+
+<p><a class='page' name ='Page_85' id='Page_85' title='85'>&nbsp;</a>Captain Durbin brought Edward Hallett and placed him
+beside Emily, where, by bracing themselves against the wall of
+the state-room, they might prevent their being dashed about by
+the rolling of the vessel. Emily welcomed him with an affectionate
+smile, and taking his hand, which now sometimes answered
+the clasp of hers, told him that he must not be afraid,
+though there was a great storm, for their Father in Heaven
+could deliver them out of it if it were His will, and if it were
+not, He would take them to himself, if they loved Him, and
+loved one another as the blessed Saviour had commanded them.
+"And you know we must die some way," continued the sweet
+young preacher, "and father says it is just as easy to go to
+Heaven from the sea as from any other place." She paused a
+moment, and then added in a low tone, "But I think I had
+rather die on shore, and be buried by my mother in the green,
+shady church-yard&mdash;it is so quiet there."</p>
+
+<p>Emily crept nearer and nearer to her young companion as
+she spoke, with that clinging to human love and care which is
+felt by the hardest breast in moments of dread. His heart was
+beating high with the tenderest and the happiest emotions he
+had ever known, when a wave sweeping over the deck of the
+ship, and breaking through the skylight, came tumbling in
+upon them. It forced them asunder, and the falling of their
+lantern at the same moment left them in darkness amidst the
+tossing of the ship, the rolling of the furniture, and the noise of
+the many waters. Edward Hallett's first thought was for
+Emily;&mdash;he felt for her on every side, but she was not in the
+state-room; he groped his way into the cabin, but he could not
+find her, and he heard no sound that told of her existence. In
+terror for her, self was forgotten&mdash;love conquered fear, as it had
+already obtained the empire over hate, and he called her&mdash;"Emily&mdash;dear
+Emily!&mdash;hear me&mdash;answer me, Emily?"</p>
+
+<p>He listened in vain for the faint voice for which he thirsted.<a class='page' name ='Page_86' id='Page_86' title='86'>&nbsp;</a>
+Suddenly he bounded up the cabin steps and rushed to the post
+at which he knew Captain Durbin was most likely to be found
+in such a scene, crying as he went, "Emily! Emily! oh bring
+a light and look for Emily!"</p>
+
+<p>The shrill cry of a human heart in agony was heard above
+the bellowing of the winds and the rush of the waves, and without
+waiting for a question, without heeding even the miracle
+that the dumb had spoken, Captain Durbin hastened below,
+followed by his agitated summoner. As quickly as his trembling
+hands permitted, he struck a light and looked around for
+his child. She had been dashed against a chest, and lay pale
+and seemingly lifeless, with the red blood oozing slowly from a
+cut in the temple. Edward Hallett had lifted her before Captain
+Durbin could lay aside his light, and as he approached him,
+looking up with a face almost as pale as that which lay upon his
+arm, he exclaimed, "Oh, sir, surely she is not dead!"</p>
+
+<p>It was not till Emily had again opened her soft eyes and assured
+her father that she was not much hurt, that any notice
+was taken of the very unusual fact of Edward Hallett's speaking.</p>
+
+<p>"Father, how did you know I was hurt?"</p>
+
+<p>"He whom we have thought a dumb boy called me, and
+told me he could not find you," said Captain Durbin, looking
+earnestly, almost sternly at Edward, who colored as he felt
+that eyes he dared not meet were upon him. But the gentle,
+loving Emily took his hand, and said, "Did our good Heavenly
+Father make you speak?&mdash;I am so glad&mdash;please speak to
+me!"</p>
+
+<p>Edward could not raise his eyes to hers, but covering his
+face with his other hand, he fell on his knees, saying to her and
+Captain Durbin, "I am afraid it was very wicked, but indeed I
+couldn't help it. I could speak all the time, Emily, but I was
+afraid of being beaten as I used to be, if I seemed like other<a class='page' name ='Page_87' id='Page_87' title='87'>&nbsp;</a>
+people&mdash;now if they beat me I must bear it&mdash;better for me
+to be beaten than to have Emily lie there with no one to help
+her."</p>
+
+<p>"But who is going to beat you? Nobody will beat you&mdash;we
+all love you&mdash;don't we, father?" cried Emily, bending forward
+and putting her arm around the neck of her <i>prot&eacute;g&eacute;</i>.</p>
+
+<p>"We must hear first whether he is worthy of our love, my
+dear," said Captain Durbin, as he attempted to withdraw his
+daughter's arm, and to make her lie down again&mdash;but Edward
+had seized the little hand and held it around his neck, while he
+exclaimed in the most imploring tones, "Oh, sir I let Emily
+love me&mdash;nobody else except my poor mother ever loved me.
+Beat me as much as you please, and I will not say a word, but
+oh! pray, sir! don't tell Emily she must not love me."</p>
+
+<p>"And, father, if he were wicked, you know you told me
+once that we must love the wicked and try to do them good,
+because our Father in Heaven loved us while we were yet
+sinners," urged Emily.</p>
+
+<p>That gentle voice could not be unheeded, and as Captain
+Durbin kissed her, he laid his hand kindly on the boy's head,
+saying in more friendly tones, "I hope he has not been wicked,
+but we will hear more about it to-morrow&mdash;I cannot stay
+longer with you now, and you must lie still just where I have
+put you, or you may roll out and get hurt. We shall have a
+rough sea most of the night, though, thank God! no danger,
+for the wind had shifted and slackened a little before that great
+wave swept you away!"</p>
+
+<p>"May I not stay by Emily, sir, and tell her what made me
+not speak? I will not let her sit up again."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes! do, father, let him stay till you come down
+again."</p>
+
+<p>Captain Durbin consented, and when he came down again at
+midnight from the deck, the children had both fallen asleep, but<a class='page' name ='Page_88' id='Page_88' title='88'>&nbsp;</a>
+their hands were clasped in each other's, and the flushed cheeks
+and dewy lashes of both showed that they had been weeping.
+The next morning Captain Durbin heard the story of the orphan
+boy. Emily Durbin stood beside him while he told it,
+and he needed the courage which her presence gave him, for
+his cowed spirit could not yet rise to confidence in man. The
+mingled indignation and pity with which Captain Durbin heard
+the simple but touching narrative of his life&mdash;the earnest kindness
+with which, at the conclusion, he drew him to his side,
+and told him that he would be his father, and Emily his sister,
+adding, "God gave you to me, and as His gift I will love you
+and care for you," first taught him that his friend Emily was
+not the one only angel of mercy in our world. As time passed
+on, and Captain Durbin kept well the promise of those words,
+instructing him with care and guarding him with tenderness
+as well as with fidelity, his faith became firm, not only in his
+fellow-men, but in Him who had brought such great good for
+him out of the darkest evil. His long repressed affections
+sprang into vigorous growth, his intellect expanded rapidly in
+their glow, his eye grew bright, his step elastic, and his whole
+air redolent of a joy which none but those who have suffered
+as he had done can conceive. In the handsome youth who
+returned two years afterwards with Captain Durbin to Boston,
+and who walked so proudly at his side, leading Emily by the
+hand, few could have recognized the wild boy of that western
+Island.</p>
+
+<p>Such was the transformation which the spirit of love, breathing
+itself through the lips of a little child, had effected. "Verily,
+of such" children "is the kingdom of heaven."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a class='page' name ='Page_89' id='Page_89' title='89'>&nbsp;</a><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a><a href="#CONTENTS">CHAPTER VI.</a></h2>
+
+
+<p>The entertainment of the evening gave its character to our conversation
+on the following morning. It was a conversation too
+grave for introduction into a work intended only to aid in the
+entertainment of festive hours: it commenced with the English
+"poor-laws," and ended with a discussion of the tenure of property
+in that land, and the wisdom of our own republican fathers
+in abolishing entails&mdash;a subject affording a fair opportunity to
+us Americans, to indulge a little in that self-glorification which
+we are accused of loving so well.</p>
+
+<p>"What a curious book would a 'History of Entails' be!"
+exclaimed Mr. Arlington, "how full of the romance of life!"</p>
+
+<p>"Romance!" ejaculated Annie.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, romance; for under this system, the poor man, whose
+life seemed doomed to one unbroken struggle with fortune, for
+the necessaries of existence, finds himself, by some unexpected
+casualty, the possessor of rank, and of what seems to him boundless
+wealth."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, yes!" said I, "but you have given us only the bright
+side of the picture. To make room for this stranger, whose
+only connection with the house of which he has so unexpectedly
+become the head is probably that preserved in genealogical
+tables, the daughters of the house, or their children it may
+be, reared in luxury, must go forth to a life of comparative privation.
+I met, some years ago, in one of my visits to the Far<a class='page' name ='Page_90' id='Page_90' title='90'>&nbsp;</a>
+West, a young Englishman, who&mdash;but I will read you the
+story of his life, as I wrote it out soon after parting with him."</p>
+
+<p>"Have you a picture of him, Aunt Nancy?" asked Robert
+Dudley.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, Robert," I replied with a smile, "but you must have
+patience, for I shall neither show the picture nor tell the story
+till evening."</p>
+
+<p>When we were assembled in the evening, Annie, with much
+ceremony, led me to the high-backed arm-chair, which she called
+the Speaker's Chair, and placed before me the small travelling
+desk, in which she knew my manuscripts were kept. I
+unlocked it, and soon found the scroll of which I was in search.</p>
+
+<p>"But the picture, Aunt Nancy&mdash;where is the picture?"
+cried the eager Robert.</p>
+
+<p>"Here it is," I cried, as I loosened the ribbon with which
+the manuscript was bound together, and produced a small engraving;
+a fancy subject, however, rather than an actual portrait,
+and of no general interest. The print was eagerly caught
+by Robert, and handed around the circle, with exclamations of,
+"How handsome!" "What an exquisite picture!" Mr. Arlington
+looked at it a moment, then, with a smiling glance at
+me, handed it, without a word of comment, to Col. Donaldson.</p>
+
+<p>"The impertinent puppy!" ejaculated the Colonel, "engrossed
+with his hawk and his hound, and wearing such an
+insolent air of self-absorption in the presence of a lady" (for
+the artist had introduced a lovely young maiden in the scene).
+"Poor girl!" continued the Colonel; "if she were in any way
+connected with him, I am not surprised that she should look so
+sad and reproachful."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Arlington's smiling glance was again turned on me;
+and I met it with a hearty laugh.</p>
+
+<p>"Indeed, Aunt Nancy," said the Colonel, who seemed
+strangely annoyed at my laughter, "I think your friend does<a class='page' name ='Page_91' id='Page_91' title='91'>&nbsp;</a>
+you little credit, and I can only hope that he had some of
+these lordly airs drubbed out of him at the West."</p>
+
+<p>As Col. Donaldson spoke he threw down the engraving
+which he had held, and pushed his chair from the table.</p>
+
+<p>"I assure you, sir," I replied, "my friend has as few lordly
+airs as it is possible to conceive in one born to such lordly circumstances.
+It was not my intention to impose on you that
+picture as an actual likeness of him&mdash;though had you ever
+seen him I might easily have done so, as it really resembles
+him very much in his personal traits."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I am glad he did not sit for this picture," said Col.
+Donaldson; "now I can listen to your story with some
+pleasure."</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you; you must first take some reflections suggested
+to me by the incidents I have here narrated. Of the character
+of these reflections, you will form some conception from
+the title I have given to the tale into which I have interwoven
+them. I have called it</p>
+
+
+<h3><a name="LIFE_IN_AMERICA" id="LIFE_IN_AMERICA"></a><a href="#CONTENTS">"LIFE IN AMERICA."</a></h3>
+
+<p>"Men and Manners in America" was the comprehensive title
+of a book issued some fifteen or twenty years ago, by a gentleman
+from Scotland, to whom, we fear, Americans have never
+tendered the grateful acknowledgments he deserved for his disinterested
+efforts to teach them to eat eggs properly, and to
+give due time to the mastication of their food. This benevolently
+instructive work was the precursor of a host of others on
+the same topics, and others of a kindred character. America
+has been the standard subject for the trial essays of European
+tyros in philosophy, political economy, and book-making in
+general. Society in America has been presented, it would
+seem, in all its aspects&mdash;religious, educational, industrial, politi<a class='page' name ='Page_92' id='Page_92' title='92'>&nbsp;</a>cal,
+commercial, and fashionable. Our schools and our prisons,
+our churches and our theatres, have been in turn the subject of
+investigation, of unqualified censure, and of scarcely less unqualified
+laudation.</p>
+
+<p>The subject thus dissected, put together, and dissected
+again, has not been able to restrain some wincing and an occasional
+outcry, when the scalpel has been held by a more than
+usually unskilful hand&mdash;demonstrations of sensibility which
+have occasioned apparently as much disapprobation as surprise
+in the anatomists. We flatter ourselves that there is peculiar
+fitness in the metaphor just used, for the outer form only of
+American life has been touched by these various writers. Its
+spirit, that which gives to it its peculiar organization, has evaded
+them as completely as the soul of man evades the keenest investigations
+of the dissecting room. Even of the seat of the spirit&mdash;of
+the point whence it sends forth its subtle influences, giving
+activity and direction to every member&mdash;of the <span class="smcap">homes</span> of
+America, they have little real knowledge. The anatomist&mdash;the
+reader will pardon the continuation of a figure so illustrative
+of our meaning&mdash;the anatomist knows that not only can he
+never hope to lay his finger upon the principle of life, but that
+ere he can pry into those cells in which its mysterious processes
+are evolved, they must have been dismantled of all that could
+have guided him to any certain deductions respecting its nature
+and mode of action. And seldom is the eye of the stranger,
+never that of the professed bookmaker, suffered to rest upon
+our homes till they have undergone changes that will as completely
+baffle his penetration. Nor is this always designedly.
+It is from a delicate instinct which shrinks from subjecting its
+most sacred and touching emotions to the rude gaze and ruder
+comment of the world.</p>
+
+<p>We have been led to these observations by certain events
+of which we have lately become informed, and which we would<a class='page' name ='Page_93' id='Page_93' title='93'>&nbsp;</a>
+here record, as illustrative of some peculiarities of social life in
+America, and especially of the new development of character
+manifested by women under the influence of these peculiarities.</p>
+
+<p>The ringing of bells, the firing of cannon, the huzzaing of
+the assembling multitude on the announcement in London of
+the victory of Waterloo, must have seemed a bitter mockery to
+many a heart, mad with the first sharp agony of bereavement.
+"The few must suffer that the many may rejoice," say the
+statesman and the warrior while they plan new conquests. It
+may be so, but we have at present to do with the sufferings of
+the few.</p>
+
+<p>On the list of the killed in that battle appeared the name
+of Horace Danforth, Captain in the 41st Regiment of Infantry.
+It was a name of little note, but there was one to whom it was
+the synonyme of all that gave beauty or gladness to life; and
+ere the bells had ceased to sound, or the eager crowd to huzza,
+her heart was still. With her last quivering sigh had mingled
+the wail of a new-born infant.</p>
+
+<p>Thus was Horace Maitland Danforth ushered into life. He
+had been born at the house of his maternal uncle, Sir Thomas
+Maitland, and as his mother had been wholly dependent on
+this gentleman, and his father had been a soldier of fortune,
+leaving to his son no heritage but his name, he continued there,
+as carefully reared and tenderly regarded as though he had been
+the heir to Maitland Park and to all its dependencies. Though
+Sir Thomas had, for many years after the birth of his nephew
+intended to marry, it was an intention never executed, and when
+Horace attained his twenty-first birthday, his majority was celebrated
+as that of his uncle's heir, and as such he was presented
+by Sir Thomas Maitland to his assembled tenantry. Soon
+after this event, the Baronet obtained for his nephew a right to
+the name and arms of Maitland&mdash;a measure to which, knowing
+little of his father's family, Horace readily consented. Sir<a class='page' name ='Page_94' id='Page_94' title='94'>&nbsp;</a>
+Thomas Maitland died suddenly while yet in the prime of life,
+and was succeeded by Sir Horace, then twenty-four years of
+age. In the enjoyments of society, of travel, and of those
+thousand luxuries, mental and physical, which fortune secures,
+three years passed rapidly away with the young, handsome,
+and accomplished Baronet.</p>
+
+<p>One of the earliest convictions of Horace Maitland's life
+had been, that the refining presence of woman was necessary
+to the perfection of Maitland Park, and when Sir Thomas said
+to him, "Marry, Horace&mdash;do not be an old bachelor like your
+uncle"&mdash;though he answered nothing, he vowed in the inmost
+recesses of his heart that it should not be his fault if he did
+not obey the injunction. Yet to the world it seemed wholly
+his own fault that at twenty-seven he had not given to Maitland
+Park a mistress, and even he himself could not attribute
+his continued celibacy to the coldness or cruelty of woman;
+for, in truth, though he had "knelt at many a shrine," he had
+"laid his heart on none." If hardly pressed for his reason, he
+might have said with Ferdinand,&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i12">"For several virtues<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Have I liked several women; never any<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With so full soul, but some defect in her<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Did quarrel with the noblest grace she own'd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And put it to the foil."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>He who after the death of his uncle continued to urge Sir
+Horace most on the subject of matrimony, was the one of all
+the world who might have been supposed least desirous to see
+him enter into its bonds. This was Edward Maitland, a distant
+cousin, somewhat younger than himself, to whom he had
+been attached from his boyhood, and who had been saved by
+his generosity from many of those painful experiences to which
+a very narrow income would otherwise have subjected him. It
+had more than once been suggested to Edward Maitland, that<a class='page' name ='Page_95' id='Page_95' title='95'>&nbsp;</a>
+should his cousin die unmarried, he might not unreasonably
+hope to become his heir, as he was supposed to be uncontrolled
+by any entail in the disposal of his property, and had few
+nearer relations than himself, and none with whom he maintained
+such intimate and affectionate intercourse. Nor could
+Edward Maitland fail to perceive that his own value in society
+was in an inverse ratio to the chances of the Baronet's marrying,
+as a report of an actual proposal on the part of the latter
+had more than once occasioned a visible declension in the number
+and warmth of his invitations. These considerations appeared,
+however, only to stimulate the young man's activity in
+the search of a wife for his cousin. Had he been employed
+by a marriage broker with a prospect of a liberal commission,
+he could hardly have been more indefatigable.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Horace," exclaimed the younger Maitland, as the
+two sat loitering over a late London breakfast one morning,
+"how did you like the lady to whom I introduced you last
+evening?"</p>
+
+<p>A smile lighted the eyes of Sir Horace as he replied, "Very
+much, Ned&mdash;she is certainly intelligent, and has read and
+thought more than most ladies of her age."</p>
+
+<p>"She will make a capital manager, I am sure."</p>
+
+<p>"And an agreeable companion," added Sir Horace.</p>
+
+<p>"And a good wife&mdash;do you not think so, Horace?"</p>
+
+<p>"She doubtless would be to one who could fancy her,
+Ned; for me her style is a little too <i>prononc&eacute;</i>."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, really, Horace, I cannot imagine what you would
+have. One woman is too frivolous&mdash;another wants refinement&mdash;one
+is too indolent and exacting&mdash;and when you can make
+no other objection, why her style is a little too <i>prononc&eacute;</i>"&mdash;the
+last words were given with ludicrous imitation of his cousin's
+tone. "If an angel were to descend from heaven for you,
+I doubt if you would be suited."</p>
+
+<p><a class='page' name ='Page_96' id='Page_96' title='96'>&nbsp;</a>"So do I," replied Horace, with a gay laugh at his cousin's
+evident vexation.</p>
+
+<p>And thus did he meet all Edward's well-intended efforts.
+The power of choice had made him fastidious, and his life of
+luxury and freedom had brought him no experiences of the
+need of another and gentler self as a consoler. But that lesson
+was approaching.</p>
+
+<p>A call from his lawyer for some papers necessary to complete
+an arrangement in which he was much interested, had
+sent Sir Horace to Maitland Park, in the midst of the London
+season, to explore the yet unfathomed recesses of an old <i>escritoire</i>
+of Sir Thomas. He had been gone but two days when
+Edward received the following note from him, written, as it
+seemed, both in haste and agitation:&mdash;</p>
+
+
+<p>"Come to me immediately on the receipt of this, dear Edward.
+I have found here a paper of the utmost importance to
+you as well as to me. Come quickly&mdash;take the chariot and
+travel post.</p>
+
+<p>
+"Yours,        H.&nbsp;D. <span class="smcap">Maitland</span>."<br />
+</p>
+
+
+<p>In less than an hour after the reception of this note Edward
+Maitland was on the road: and travelling with the utmost expedition,
+he arrived at Maitland Park just as the day was fading
+into dusky eve.</p>
+
+<p>"How is Sir Horace?" he asked of the man who admitted
+him.</p>
+
+<p>"I do not think he seems very well, sir. You will find him
+in the library, Mr. Edward&mdash;shall I announce you, sir?"</p>
+
+<p>"No;" and with hurried steps and anxious heart Edward
+Maitland trod the well-known passages leading to the library.</p>
+
+<p>When he entered that room, Sir Horace was standing at
+one of its windows gazing upon the landscape without, and
+so absorbed was he that he did not move at the opening of the
+door. Edward spoke, and starting, he turned towards him a<a class='page' name ='Page_97' id='Page_97' title='97'>&nbsp;</a>
+face haggard with some yet untold suffering. He advanced to
+meet his cousin, and with an almost convulsive grasp of the
+hand, said, "I am glad you have come, Edward,"&mdash;then, without
+heeding the anxious inquiries addressed to him by Edward,
+he rang the bell, and ordered lights in a tone which caused them
+to be brought without a moment's delay. As soon as the servant
+who had brought them had left the room, Horace resumed:
+"Now, Edward, here is the paper of which I wrote to you;
+read it at once."</p>
+
+<p>Agitated by his cousin's manner, Edward took the old
+stained paper from him without a word, and seating himself
+near the lights, began to read, while Sir Horace stood just opposite
+him, eyeing him intently. In a very few minutes Edward
+looked up with a puzzled air and said, "I do not understand
+one word of it. What does it all mean, Horace?"</p>
+
+<p>"It means that you are Sir Edward Maitland&mdash;that you
+are master here&mdash;and that I am a beggar."</p>
+
+<p>"Horace, you are mad!" exclaimed the young man, starting
+from his chair, with quivering limbs and a face from which
+every trace of color had departed.</p>
+
+<p>Hitherto the tone in which Sir Horace had spoken, the
+alternate flush and pallor on his face, and the shiver that occasionally
+passed over his frame, had shown him to be fearfully
+excited; but as Edward became agitated, all these signs of
+emotion passed away, and with wonderful calmness taking the
+paper in his hand, he commenced reading that part of it which
+explained its purpose. This was to secure the descent of the
+baronetcy of Maitland and the property attached to it in the
+male line. Having made Edward Maitland comprehend this
+purpose, Sir Horace drew towards him a genealogical table of
+their family, and showed him that he was himself the only living
+descendant in a direct line through an unbroken succession
+of males from the period at which this entail was made.</p>
+
+<p><a class='page' name ='Page_98' id='Page_98' title='98'>&nbsp;</a>"And now, Edward," he said in conclusion, "I am prepared
+to give up every thing to you. That you have so long
+been defrauded of your rights has been through ignorance on
+my part, and equal ignorance, I am convinced, on the part of
+my uncle. You know he paid little attention to business, leaving
+it wholly to his agents. I have often heard him express a
+wish to examine the papers in the old <i>escritoire</i> in which I found
+this deed, saying that they had been sent home by old Harris
+when he gave up his business to his nephew&mdash;the old man
+writing to my uncle, that as they consisted of leases that had
+fallen in, or of antiquated deeds, they were no longer of any
+value except as family records. It was a just Providence that
+led me to that <i>escritoire</i>, to search for the missing title-deeds of
+the farm I was about to sell."</p>
+
+<p>Edward Maitland had sunk into his chair from sheer inability
+to stand, and for several minutes after his cousin had
+ceased speaking, he still sat, with his elbows resting on the table
+before him, and his face buried in his clasped hands. At length
+looking up, he said, "Horace, let us burn this paper and forget
+it."</p>
+
+<p>"Forget! that is impossible, Edward."</p>
+
+<p>"Why?&mdash;why not live as we have done? You speak of
+defrauding me, but what have I wanted that you had? Has
+not your purse been as my own? Your home&mdash;has it not been
+mine? It shall be so still. We shall share the fortune, and as
+to the title, you will wear it more gracefully than I."</p>
+
+<p>"Dear Edward! Such proof of your generous affection
+ought to console me for all changes, and it shall. I will confess
+to you that I have suffered, but it is past. My people&mdash;&mdash;"
+his voice faltered, his chest heaved, and turning away he walked
+more than once across the room before he resumed&mdash;"they
+are mine no longer&mdash;but you will be kind to them, Edward, I
+know."</p>
+
+<p><a class='page' name ='Page_99' id='Page_99' title='99'>&nbsp;</a>"Horace, you will drive me mad!" cried Edward Maitland.
+"Promise, I conjure you, promise me to say nothing
+more of this."</p>
+
+<p>He threw himself as he spoke into his cousin's arms with
+an agitation which Horace vainly sought to soothe, until he promised
+"to <i>speak</i>" no further on this subject at present to any
+one. Satisfied with this promise, and exhausted by the emotions
+of the last hour, Edward soon retired to his own room. It
+was long before he slept, and had he not been in a distant part
+of the house, he would have heard the hurried steps with
+which, for many an hour after he was left alone, Sir Horace
+Maitland continued to pace the floor of the dimly lighted
+library. The clock was on the stroke of three when he seated
+himself and began the following letter:</p>
+
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Dear Edward</span>:&mdash;I must go, and at once. I cannot without
+the loss of self-respect continue to play the master here another
+day, neither can I live as a dependent within these walls&mdash;no,
+not for an hour. Do not attempt to follow me, for I will
+not see you. I will write to you as soon as I arrive at my
+point of destination&mdash;I know not yet where that will be. Feel
+no anxiety about me. I shall take with me a thousand pounds,
+and will leave an order for Decker to receive from you and hold
+subject to my draft whatever sum may accrue from the sale, at
+a fair valuation, of Sir Thomas Maitland's personal property,
+which he had an undoubted right to will as he pleased, the
+amount of the mesne rents expended by me during the last three
+years having been deducted therefrom. Do not attempt to
+force favors upon me, Edward&mdash;I cannot bear them now.
+Such attempts would only compel me to cut myself loose from
+you and your affection&mdash;the one blessing that earth still holds
+for me.</p>
+
+<p>My trunks have been packed two days, for my first re<a class='page' name ='Page_100' id='Page_100' title='100'>&nbsp;</a>solve
+was to go from this place and from England. I shall take
+the chariot in which you came down and fresh horses, but I will
+send them back to you from London.</p>
+
+<p>God bless you, Edward. I dare not speak of my feelings to
+you now, lest I should lose the strength and self-command I
+need so much. God bless you.</p>
+
+<p>
+<span class="smcap">H.&nbsp;D. Maitland.</span><br />
+</p>
+
+
+<p>Stealthily did Sir Horace move through the wide halls and
+ascend the lofty stairs of this home of his life, feeling at every
+step the rushing tide of memory conflicting with the sad thought
+that he was treading them for the last time. Having reached
+his sleeping apartments, he rang a bell which he knew would
+summon his own man. Rapidly as the man moved, the time
+seemed long to him ere the summons was obeyed, and he had
+given the necessary orders to have the carriage prepared and
+the trunks brought down as soon as possible, "and as quietly,"
+he added, "as he did not wish to disturb Mr. Edward, who had
+retired to bed late."</p>
+
+<p>"Will you not take breakfast, sir, before you set out?" asked
+the man.</p>
+
+<p>"No, John. Let the carriage follow me. I shall walk on.
+Be quick, and make no noise."</p>
+
+<p>A faint streak of light was just beginning to appear in the
+east, when the heretofore master of that lordly mansion went
+out into a world which held for him no other home. <span class="smcap">Accident</span>,
+as short-sighted mortals name events controlled by no
+human will, decided whither he should direct his course from
+London. He had called at his lawyer's&mdash;the already mentioned
+"nephew of old Harris"&mdash;determined to communicate his
+discovery to him, perhaps with some faint hope of learning that
+the entail had been in some way set aside, before Sir Thomas
+had ventured to make his sister's son his heir. Mr. Decker was<a class='page' name ='Page_101' id='Page_101' title='101'>&nbsp;</a>
+not in his rooms, and sitting down to wait for him he took up
+mechanically the morning paper that lay on his table. The first
+thing on which his eye rested was the advertisement of a steam
+packet about to sail from Liverpool for America.</p>
+
+<p>"America; the very place for me. I shall meet no acquaintances
+there," was the thought which flashed through his
+mind. Another glance at the paper of the day and hour of the
+packet's sailing, an examination of his watch, an impatient look
+from the window up and down the street, and again he mused,
+"I have not a moment to spare, and if I wait for Decker I
+may be kept for hours, and so lose the packet; and why should
+I wait? Have I not seen the deed? This indecision is folly."</p>
+
+<p>The result of these reflections was a note rapidly written to
+Mr. Decker, stating his discovery of the deed of entail, his consequent
+surrender of all claim to the property to Edward Maitland,
+and his determination to quit England immediately. All
+arrangements respecting the settlement of his claims on the
+estate, and the claims of the present proprietor upon him, he
+left to Sir Edward and Mr. Decker, empowering the latter to
+receive and retain for his use and subject to his order, whatever,
+on such a settlement, should appertain to him.</p>
+
+<p>This note was left on Mr. Decker's table, and in one hour
+after leaving his office Horace Maitland was advancing to
+Liverpool with the rapidity of steam. The packet waited but
+the arrival of the train in which he was a passenger, to leave the
+shores of England. With what bitterness he watched those
+receding shores, while memory wrote upon his bare and bleeding
+heart the record of joys identified with them, and fading
+like them for ever from his life, let each imagine for himself, for
+to such emotions no language can do justice.</p>
+
+<p>A voyage across the Atlantic is now too common an event
+to stay, even for a moment, the pen of a narrator. From Boston,
+Horace&mdash;no longer Sir Horace&mdash;wrote to his cousin as
+follows&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<p><a class='page' name ='Page_102' id='Page_102' title='102'>&nbsp;</a><span class="smcap">Dear Edward</span>&mdash;Here I am among the republicans, with
+whom I may flatter myself I have lost nothing by sinking Sir
+Horace Maitland into plain Mr. Danforth. Such is now my
+address, assumed not from fear that in this distant quarter of
+the world I shall meet any to whom the name of Maitland
+is familiar but because much of which I do not desire to be reminded
+is associated with that came. I said to you when
+leaving my home, dear Edward, "Do not fear for me." I can
+now repeat this with better reason. The first stunning shock
+of the change to which I was so suddenly subjected has been
+borne. My past life already seems to me as a dream from
+which I have been rudely but effectually awakened. I am now
+first to begin life in reality.</p>
+
+<p>The accident which determined me to seek these shores was
+a happy one. I cannot well dream here where all around me
+is active, vigorous life. We are accustomed in England to
+think of the American shores as the Ultima Thule in a western
+direction, but when we reach these shores we find that the
+movement is still west. The daily papers are filled with
+accounts of persons migrating west, and thither am I going.
+"The world is all before me where to choose" the theatre of
+my new life&mdash;my life of work&mdash;-and I would have it far from
+the blue sea, out of hearing of the murmur of the waves that
+lave my island home. I will go where the wide prairies sweep
+away on every side of the horizon&mdash;where every link with other
+lands will be severed, and America below and Heaven above
+constitute my universe. "You will find no society at the
+West," has been said to me. This is another attraction to that
+region. I would work out my destiny in solitude. I desire to
+travel without company, and have made my arrangements accordingly.
+I have purchased three substantial horses for a little
+more than one hundred pounds, and have engaged a shrewd,
+active lad as groom, valet, and he seems to think, companion,<a class='page' name ='Page_103' id='Page_103' title='103'>&nbsp;</a>
+at about two pounds per month. A very light carriage, sometimes
+driven by my servant and sometimes by myself, will
+transport the moderate wardrobe which I shall deem it necessary
+to take with me to the outermost verge of civilization and good
+roads, where leaving carriage and wardrobe, or at least all of
+the latter which may not be borne by a led-horse, I shall penetrate
+still further into the old forests of this New World. I
+long to be alone with "Nature's full, free heart"&mdash;perchance,
+there, my own may beat as of yore.</p>
+
+<p>Farewell, dear Edward. You may hear of me next among
+the Sacs and Foxes;&mdash;at present address H. Danforth, care of
+G&mdash;&mdash; &amp; D&mdash;&mdash;, Merchants,&mdash;&mdash; &mdash;&mdash; street, Boston.</p>
+
+<p class='center'>Yours ever, H.</p>
+<p class='right-indent'><span class="smcap">Danforth</span>.</p>
+<p class='lettersig'>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<p>A new external life had indeed opened upon this child of
+luxury and conventional refinement. He whose movements
+had been chronicled as matter of interest to the public, for
+whose presence the "world" had postponed its f&ecirc;tes, might
+now travel hundreds of miles without observation or inquiry.
+He upon whose steps had waited a crowd of obsequious
+attendants, now found himself with one follower, whose tone of
+independence hardly permitted him to call him servant. In
+cities, where he would still have been surrounded by those conventional
+distinctions of which he had himself been deprived,
+the sense of a great loss would have been ever present with him,
+and the contrast with the past would have made the fairest
+present to which he could now attain, desolate. But there
+could be no comparison, and therefore no painful contrast,
+between the wild life of the prairies and the ultra-civilization of
+English aristocratic society. In the excitement and adventure
+of the one, he hoped to forget the other. He sought to forget&mdash;not
+to be resigned, to acquiesce. His inner life was unchanged.
+He had been a dreamer&mdash;a pleasure-seeker&mdash;and a
+dreamer and pleasure-seeker he continued, though the dreams<a class='page' name ='Page_104' id='Page_104' title='104'>&nbsp;</a>
+and the pleasures must be wrought from new materials. To
+sketch the progress of such a character through the shifting
+scenes of his new existence&mdash;to observe him in his association
+with the strong, daring, acute, but uncultivated denizens of our
+frontier States&mdash;to stand with sympathizing heart beside him as
+he first entered upon those unpeopled solitudes in whose silence
+God speaks to the soul, is not permitted us at present. This
+may be the work of another day; but now we must pass at
+once with him from Boston to a scene within the confines of
+Iowa. His carriage had been left behind, and for two days he
+had been riding over a rolling country, whose grassy knolls,
+dotted here and there with clumps of trees, brought occasionally
+to his mind the park scenery of his own land. Early in this
+day he had passed a farm with a comfortable house and substantial
+out-buildings, but no dwelling of man had since
+presented itself to him, though the sun was now low in the
+western sky. Under ordinary circumstances this would have
+been of little consequence, for he had already spent more than
+one night in the open air without discomfort; but his attendant
+had heard a distant muttering of thunder, and John Stacy was
+not the lad to encounter without murmuring a night of storm
+unsheltered. John's anxiety made him keen-sighted, and he
+was the first to perceive and announce the approach of a rider.
+We use the neutral term <i>rider</i> not without consideration, for he
+was one in whom a certain ease of manner, and even an air of
+command, contradicted the testimony of habiliments made and
+worn after a fashion recognized nowhere as characteristic of the
+<i>genus</i> gentleman. A courteous inquiry from Horace Danforth
+respecting the nearest place at which a night's shelter might be
+obtained, led to a cordial invitation to him to return with him
+to his own house. It was an invitation not to be disregarded
+under existing circumstances, and it was accepted with evident
+pleasure both by master and man.</p>
+
+<p><a class='page' name ='Page_105' id='Page_105' title='105'>&nbsp;</a>Mr. Grahame, for so the new-comer had announced himself,
+led the way back for a short distance over the route just
+pursued by our travellers, and then striking off to the left, rode
+briskly forward for several miles. The light gray clouds which
+had long been gathering in the western sky had deepened into
+blackness as they proceeded, and flashes of lightning were
+darting across their path, and large drops of rain were falling
+upon them when they neared a house constructed of logs, yet
+bearing some evidence of taste in the grounds around it, as well
+as in its position, which was on the side of a gently sloping
+hill, looking out upon a landscape through which wound a
+clear and rapid, though narrow stream.</p>
+
+<p>"Like good cavaliers, we will see our horses housed first,"
+said Mr. Grahame, riding past the main building to one of the
+out-houses, built also of logs, which served as a stable. Here
+Horace Danforth relinquished his tired steed to the care of
+John Stacy, and Mr. Grahame having himself rubbed down
+his own beautiful animal, and thrown a bundle of hay before
+him, with a slight apology to his visitor for the detention, led
+the way into the house. As they entered the vacant parlor a
+shade of something like dissatisfaction passed over the master's
+countenance, and having seen his guest seated by a huge fireplace,
+whose cheerful blaze of wood a chilly evening made by
+no means unwelcome, he left him alone. He soon returned,
+however, with a brighter expression, which was explained by
+his saying, "I feared, on finding this room empty, that my
+daughter had been sent for to a sick woman with whom she
+has lately spent several days and nights, and that I could offer
+you only the discomforts of a bachelor's establishment; but I
+find she is at home, and will soon give us supper."</p>
+
+<p>During the absence of his host, our Englishman had looked
+around with increasing surprise at the contents of the parlor.
+The furniture was of the most simple description, yet marked<a class='page' name ='Page_106' id='Page_106' title='106'>&nbsp;</a>
+by a certain neatness and gracefulness of arrangement, indicative,
+as he could not but think, of a cultivated taste. The same
+mingling of even rude simplicity of material and tasteful
+arrangement prevailed in the chamber to which his host now
+conducted him, and where the luxury, for such he had learned
+to regard it, of abundance of clear water and clean napkins
+awaited him. In a few minutes after his return to the parlor a
+door was opened, through which he obtained a view of an
+inner apartment, well lighted, and containing a table so spread
+as to present no slight temptation to a traveller who had not
+broken his fast since the morning meal. At the head of this
+table stood a young woman of graceful form, whom his host
+introduced to him as his daughter, Miss Grahame.</p>
+
+<p>Mary Grahame's clear complexion, glowing with the hue of
+health, her large and soft and dark gray eyes, her abundant
+glossy black hair, might have won from the most fastidious
+some of that admiration given to personal beauty; but in truth
+Horace Danforth had grown indifferent as well as fastidious,
+and it was not until in after days he had seen the complexion
+glow and the dark eyes kindle with feeling, that he said to himself,
+"She is beautiful!" To the fascination of a peculiarly
+graceful, gentle, yet earnest manner, he was, however, more
+quickly susceptible. During this first evening, the chief emotion
+excited in his mind was surprise at the style of conversation
+and manner, the acquaintance with books and with <i>les
+bien-s&eacute;ances</i> which marked these inhabitants of a log cabin in
+the western wilds&mdash;these denizens of a half-savage life.</p>
+
+<p>A day of hard riding had induced such fatigue, that even
+the rare and unexpected pleasure of communication with refined
+and cultivated minds, could not keep Horace Danforth long
+from his pillow. As he expected to set out in the morning
+very early, he would have made his adieus in parting for the
+night, mingling with them courteous expressions of the enjoy<a class='page' name ='Page_107' id='Page_107' title='107'>&nbsp;</a>ment
+which such society had afforded him after his long abstinence
+from all intellectual converse.</p>
+
+<p>"Believe me," said Mr. Graham, and the sentiment was
+corroborated by his daughter's eyes, "the pleasure has been
+mutual. Society is the great want of our western life. I have
+been wishing to ask whether your business were too urgent to
+permit you to afford us more of this coveted good?"</p>
+
+<p>"I am ashamed to confess," said Horace Danforth, with
+some embarrassment, "that I have no business at present&mdash;that
+I am an idler&mdash;I verily believe the only one in your
+country."</p>
+
+<p>"Then will you not give us the pleasure of your company
+for a longer time? A little rest will be no disadvantage either
+to your horses or yourself, and on us you will be conferring a
+favor which you cannot appreciate till you have lived five hundred
+miles away from civilization."</p>
+
+<p>The invitation was accepted as cordially as it was given,
+to the great satisfaction of John Stacy, who had been much
+pleased with the appearance of land in this neighborhood, and
+wanted time to look about him preparatory to purchasing.</p>
+
+<p>Horace Danforth awoke early next morning, and throwing
+open the shutters of the only window in his room, found that a
+stormy night had been succeeded by an unusually brilliant
+morning. "To brush the dews from off the upland lawn" had
+not been a habit of his past life; but the cool fresh air, the
+spicy perfumes which it wafted to him, and the brightness and
+verdure of the whole landscape, proved now more inviting than
+his pillow; and dressing himself hastily, he descended the clean
+but rude and uncarpeted stairs as gently as possible, lest he
+should arouse Miss Grahame from her slumbers. He found
+the front door open, showing that he was not the first of the
+household to go abroad that day. As he stepped out upon the
+lawn, he discovered that the parlor windows were also open,<a class='page' name ='Page_108' id='Page_108' title='108'>&nbsp;</a>
+and a familiar air, hummed in low, suppressed tones, caused
+him to look through them as he passed. Could he believe his
+eyes? Was that neatest and prettiest of all housemaids, who,
+moving with light and even graceful steps, was yet busied in
+the very homely task of dusting and arranging the furniture in
+the parlor&mdash;was she indeed the same Miss Grahame who had
+last evening charmed him by her lady-like deportment and intelligent
+conversation? Yes, the very same; for though the
+glossy black braids were covered by a gay colored handkerchief
+wound around her head <i>&agrave; la Turque</i>, there was the same wide
+forehead and well-defined brows; the same soft dark gray eyes;
+the same slightly aquiline nose and smiling mouth. Nor was
+the conversation of last evening more opposed, in his imagination,
+to her present employment, than the evident taste and
+feeling with which she was now singing that most beautiful
+hymn of the Irish poet:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"O God! Thou art the life and light<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of all this wondrous world I see."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>Listening and gazing, wondering and comparing, he had well
+nigh forgotten himself, when the lady of the mansion turning
+suddenly to the window, raised her head. Their eyes met!
+The color which rushed quickly to her very temples, recalled
+him to himself, and bowing with certainly not less embarrassment
+than she evinced, he walked rapidly on. He had not proceeded
+far, however, when he saw his host approaching from
+an opposite direction. As Mr. Grahame had already spent
+more than an hour in his fields, sharing as well as directing the
+labors of his men, he expressed no surprise at meeting his guest
+abroad. After a cordial greeting, and a few general observations
+on the weather and scenery had been exchanged, Mr.
+Grahame, glancing up at the sun, which had now risen considerably
+above a distant wood, said, "I am sorry to interrupt
+your walk, but my morning's work has made me by no means<a class='page' name ='Page_109' id='Page_109' title='109'>&nbsp;</a>
+indifferent to my breakfast, and I think that Mary's coffee and
+biscuits are about this time done to a turn."</p>
+
+<p>A few minutes brought them back to the house, and into
+the parlor from which Mary Grahame had disappeared, leaving
+behind her, in its neat and tasteful arrangement, and in the
+fresh flowers that adorned the table and mantelpiece, evidence
+of her early presence. The gentlemen were soon summoned to
+breakfast.</p>
+
+<p>It may have been that his early rising had given to Horace
+Danforth an unusual appetite; but certain it is that no breakfast
+of which he had ever partaken seemed to him half so inviting
+as this. And yet, in truth, it was simple enough; toast,
+crisp and brown, warm, light biscuits, fresh eggs, good butter,
+excellent coffee, and rich cream were all it offered. Mary Grahame
+presided, and speaking little herself, listened to her father
+and Horace, while they discussed the different characteristics of
+English or European and American society, with a pleased and
+intelligent countenance. Some observations from him drew
+from Mr. Grahame the following reply:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"There is one feature of American society upon which I
+think no foreigner has remarked, or if he have, it has been so
+cursorily as plainly to show that he was far from appreciating
+its importance: I mean the fact that here the thinker is also
+the worker. In England and the European States, the working
+class is distinct from the consumers, and there must be
+almost as great a contrast in the intellectual as in the physical
+condition of the two. All the refinement, the cultivation, must
+remain with those who have leisure and fortune&mdash;as a class, I
+mean, for individuals will of course be found, who, in spite of
+all disadvantages, will rise to the highest position. But here,
+in America, there are no idlers. Here, with few if any exceptions,
+all must be, in some way, workers, and all may be thinkers.
+We attain thus to a republic of mind."</p>
+
+<p><a class='page' name ='Page_110' id='Page_110' title='110'>&nbsp;</a>"Do you not fear that the result of this will be to check
+the development of individual greatness; that as you have
+no king in the State, so you will have no king in literature?"</p>
+
+<p>"Even were this so, it would remain a question whether the
+great increase of general intelligence would not more than compensate
+the evil."</p>
+
+<p>"Can many Polloks repay us for one Milton&mdash;many Drydens
+for one Shakspeare?"</p>
+
+<p>"You take extreme cases; besides, I only admitted your
+supposition to show that I could produce a set-off to the disadvantage.
+I do not believe that the necessity for labor of some
+sort will prevent a truly great mind from achieving for itself
+the highest distinction. I think the history of such minds
+proves that it will rather serve as a stimulus to their powers."</p>
+
+<p>Horace Danforth was silent, and after a moment's pause,
+Mr. Grahame resumed.</p>
+
+<p>"In this union of the working and the thinking classes, the
+refinements of life, those things which adorn, and beautify it,
+take their true place as consolers and soothers of the care-worn
+and toil-wearied mind. No Italian opera can give such delight
+to the sated man of pleasure as the tired laborer feels in
+listening to the evening song with which some loved one, in
+his home, sings him to repose.</p>
+
+<p>"You speak <i>con amore</i>" said Horace Danforth, smiling at
+his host's fervor.</p>
+
+<p>"I do. Had I been excluded from the refinements of social
+life, I should long since have fainted and grown weary of
+my toil here. I felt this when compelled to relinquish my
+daughter's society for two years, that she might have the advantage
+of instruction in those branches of a womanly education
+in which I could give her no aid."</p>
+
+<p>"And having spent two years in the more cultivated East, did
+Miss Grahame return willingly to her home in the wilderness?"</p>
+
+<p><a class='page' name ='Page_111' id='Page_111' title='111'>&nbsp;</a>This question was addressed to Mary Grahame herself, and
+she answered simply, "My father was here."</p>
+
+<p>"You acknowledge, then, that could your father have been
+with you, you would have preferred remaining at the East?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh no! I was fifteen when my father sent me from home,
+and they who have enjoyed the free life of the prairies so long,
+seldom love cities."</p>
+
+<p>"But the ease, the freedom from labor, which is enjoyed in
+a more advanced stage of society, the power to devote yourself
+to pursuits agreeable to your taste&mdash;did you not regret these?"</p>
+
+<p>"Permit me to put your question into plainer language,"
+interposed Mr. Grahame. "Mr. Danforth would ask, Mary,
+whether you would not prefer to live where you would not be
+compelled to degrade your mind&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"No, no, I protest against the degradation," exclaimed Mr.
+Danforth.</p>
+
+<p>"To degrade your mind," pursued Mr. Grahame, answering
+the interruption only by a smile, "by exercising it on such
+homely things as brewing coffee and baking cakes, or to soil
+your fair hands with brooms and dusters."</p>
+
+<p>"For the soil of the hands we have sparkling rills, and for
+the degradation of the mind, I, like Mr. Danforth, protest
+against it."</p>
+
+<p>"But how can you make your protest good?"</p>
+
+<p>"You have taught me that there is no degradation in labor,
+pursued for fair and right ends, and that where the end is noble,
+the labor becomes ennobling."</p>
+
+<p>"But what noble ends can be alleged for the drudgery of
+domestic life? I am translating your looks into language,"
+said Mr. Grahame, turning playfully to his guest; "correct me
+if I do not read them rightly."</p>
+
+<p>"If I say you do, I fear Miss Grahame will think them very
+impertinent looks."</p>
+
+<p><a class='page' name ='Page_112' id='Page_112' title='112'>&nbsp;</a>"I shall not complain of them while I can reply to them so
+easily," said Mary gayly. "He who knows how much a well-ordered
+household contributes to the cultivation of domestic
+virtues and family affections, will not think a woman degraded
+who sacrifices somewhat of her tastes and pleasures to the deeper
+happiness of procuring such advantages for those she loves."</p>
+
+<p>"But is not that state of society preferable, in which,
+without her personal interference, by the employment of those
+who have no higher tastes, she may accomplish the same
+object?"</p>
+
+<p>"That question proves that you do not, like my father,
+desire to see the working and the thinking classes united.
+You seem to propose that the first shall ever remain our hewers
+of wood and drawers of water."</p>
+
+<p>"Is it not a fact that there have been, are, and always will
+be those in the world who are fitted for no other position?"</p>
+
+<p>"That there are and always have been such persons, I
+acknowledge; but when labor ceases to be degrading, because
+it is partaken by all, may we not hope that new aspirations will
+be awakened in the laborer&mdash;that he will elevate himself in the
+scale of being when he feels elevation possible?"</p>
+
+<p>Mary Grahame spoke with generous enthusiasm, yet with
+a modest gentleness which made Horace Danforth desire to
+continue the argument.</p>
+
+<p>"Admitting all this," he said, "it does not answer my
+question, which was, whether you did not prefer that state of
+society in which you were able to avail yourself of the services
+of such a class?"</p>
+
+<p>"There are moments, doubtless, when indolence would
+plead for such self-indulgence; but I should be mortified,
+indeed, where this the prevailing temper of my mind."</p>
+
+<p>"Pardon me if I say that I do not see how it can be otherwise&mdash;how
+a lady of Miss Grahame's refinement and taste can<a class='page' name ='Page_113' id='Page_113' title='113'>&nbsp;</a>
+be pleased with the employments, for instance, to which Mr.
+Grahame just now referred."</p>
+
+<p>"Not pleased with them in themselves, but she may accept
+them, may she not, as a necessary part of a great object to
+which she has devoted herself?"</p>
+
+<p>"And this object?&mdash;but, forgive me. The interest you
+have awakened in the subject, and your kindness in answering
+my questions, make me an encroacher, I fear," he added, as he
+marked the heightened color with which Mary glanced at her
+father as he paused for her answer.</p>
+
+<p>"Not at all; but I speak in presence of my master, and will
+refer you to him," she replied, with another smiling glance at
+her father.</p>
+
+<p>"You see," said Mr. Grahame, "that even in these wilds,
+'the world's dread laugh' retains its power. Mary, I see, is
+afraid of being called a female Quixote, and even I find myself
+disposed to win you to some interest in my object, before I
+avow it. This I think I can best do by a sketch of the circumstances
+which led to its adoption. I will give you such a
+sketch, therefore, if you will promise to acquit me of egotism
+in doing so."</p>
+
+<p>"That I will readily do. I shall be delighted to hear it."</p>
+
+<p>"You shall have it, but not now; for I see, by certain
+cabalistic signs, known only to the initiated, that Mary is about
+to leave us for some of those same degrading employments, and
+if you will take a ride with me, I will relieve you from all danger
+of contact with them, and will, at the same time, show you
+something of our neighborhood."</p>
+
+<p>The proposal was of course accepted. The ride embraced a
+circuit of ten miles, in which they passed only two houses. The
+first of these was built with an apparent regard to convenience
+and comfort, and even some effort at adornment, as manifested
+in the climbing plants with which the windows were draperied,<a class='page' name ='Page_114' id='Page_114' title='114'>&nbsp;</a>
+and the flowers which adorned the little court in front. Mr.
+Grahame stopped before the gateway of this court, and a woman
+of coarse, rough exterior, though scrupulously clean, came out
+to speak to him, and to urge his alighting and entering the
+house with his friend. This Mr. Grahame declined; he had
+stopped only to inquire after a sick child, and to express a hope
+that her husband's hay had turned out well.</p>
+
+<p>"Dreadful fine," was her reply to the last. "I'm sure we
+be much obleeged to you for the seed, and for tellin' Jim how
+to plant it He never had sich hay before."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm glad to hear it. Where is Lucy?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, she's off to school. Tell Miss Mary she's gittin' to be
+'most as grand a reader as she be. And yet the child's willin'
+enough to work, for all."</p>
+
+<p>As the gentlemen rode on, after this interview, Mr. Grahame
+said, "That last speech expressed one of the greatest difficulties
+against which we had to contend in our efforts to induce our
+neighbors to give to their children some of the advantages of
+education. They were afraid 'larnin' would make them lazy.'
+They were of your opinion, that the thinker and the worker
+must remain of different classes."</p>
+
+<p>"I was much surprised to hear that woman speak of a
+school. I should not think the teacher could find his situation
+very profitable."</p>
+
+<p>"He is one who has regard to a higher reward than any
+earthly one. He is a self-denying Christian missionary, whom
+I induced to settle in our neighborhood. He preaches on the
+Sabbath, in a little church about two miles from my house, to
+a congregation of about twenty adults, and twice that number
+of children; and during the week, he keeps a school which is
+well attended in the summer. Some of his earlier pupils are
+already showing, by their more useful and more happy lives,
+the importance of the schoolmaster's work in the elevation of a
+people."</p>
+
+<p><a class='page' name ='Page_115' id='Page_115' title='115'>&nbsp;</a>The next dwelling they approached was very small and
+mean-looking. It seemed to Horace Danforth to contain only
+one apartment, warmed by an ill-constructed clay chimney, and
+lighted by one small, square window. That window, however,
+was not only sashed and glazed, but shaded by a plain muslin
+curtain.</p>
+
+<p>"Here," said Mr. Grahame, "lives one of those pupils of
+whom I spoke just now. He has commenced life with nothing
+but the plot of ground you see, and having a wife to support,
+he must work hard, yet already he is aiming at something
+more than the supply of merely physical wants; and I doubt
+not he will, should he live long enough, become the intelligent
+and wealthy father of a well-educated family."</p>
+
+<p>They were approaching the house as Mr. Grahame spoke.
+Near it was a small field, in which a man was hoeing.</p>
+
+<p>"How is your wife, Martin?" asked Mr. Grahame.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, thank you, sir, she is quite smart. She's been getting
+better ever since the night Miss Mary sat up with her last.
+We say she always brings good luck."</p>
+
+<p>"And how are your potatoes?"</p>
+
+<p>"How could they help but be good, sir, with such grand
+seed as you gave me? Tell Miss Mary, if you please, sir, that
+the rose-tree is growing finely, and that as soon as I can get
+time to put up the fence, Sally is to have the flower-garden she
+talked about."</p>
+
+<p>"I am glad to hear it, Martin; if you are brisk you may
+have some flowers yet before frost. I will bring you some
+seeds the next time I come."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you procure your seeds from the East, or is it the
+result of your superior cultivation, that you are able thus to
+supply your neighbors?" asked Horace Danforth of Mr.
+Grahame, as they rode on.</p>
+
+<p>"The potatoes were from my own field, raised from the<a class='page' name ='Page_116' id='Page_116' title='116'>&nbsp;</a>
+seed two years ago. The grass and flower seeds were from my
+agent at the East. These little favors win for my daughter
+and myself considerable influence over our neighbors, and thus
+facilitate our attainment of the object for which we have pitched
+our tent in the wilderness, and accepted those labors which you
+justly regard as distasteful in themselves."</p>
+
+<p>The return home of Mr. Grahame and his visitor, their
+dinner and afternoon engagements, offer nothing worthy of our
+notice. It was not till the labors of the day had been concluded,
+and the little party were gathered again before a
+cheerful fire in the parlor, that the subject of the morning's
+conversation was resumed. As Mary entered from the supper-room,
+bringing with her a little basket of needle-work, Horace
+Danforth asked if he might not now hope to receive the
+promised sketch.</p>
+
+<p>"I will give it you with pleasure when I have had my
+evening song from Mary," said Mr. Grahame.</p>
+
+<p>Opening the piano for his young hostess, Horace Danforth
+stood beside her as she sang, but he forgot to turn the leaves
+of the music before her as he listened once again to a rich and
+cultivated voice, accompanied by a fine instrument, touched by
+a skilful hand. As the sweet and well-remembered strains fell
+on his ear, he closed his eyes and gave the reins to fancy. The
+loved and lost gathered around him, and it was with a strange,
+dream-like feeling that, as the sweet sound ceased, and Mary
+arose from the piano, he opened his eyes and looked upon the
+rough walls and simple furniture of his present abode.</p>
+
+<p>"It is now nearly nineteen years," began Mr. Grahame,
+when his daughter and guest had resumed their seats near him,
+"since, crushed in spirit, I turned from the grave in which I
+had laid my chief earthly blessing, to wander 'any where, any
+where out of that world' which had a few weeks before been
+bright and joyous to me, but which I was now ready to<a class='page' name ='Page_117' id='Page_117' title='117'>&nbsp;</a>
+pronounce a desolate waste. The desire to avoid society made
+me turn westward, and nearly one hundred miles east of our
+present residence I found myself in the midst of a people
+without churches, without schools, rude in appearance and in
+manners. Absorbed in the destruction of my own selfish
+happiness, I might have passed from among them without
+knowing that disease was adding its pangs to those inflicted by
+want, ignorance, and superstition, had not a mother in the agony
+of parting from her first-born, looking hither and thither for
+help, turned her eyes entreatingly upon the stranger. I had
+once studied medicine, though regarding the profession, as our
+young men too often do, merely as a means of personal aggrandizement,
+and having received just at the completion of my
+studies an accession of fortune, which removed all pecuniary
+necessity to exertion on my part, I had never practised it, nor
+indeed obtained the diploma necessary to its practice. Now,
+however, I endeavored to make myself master of the peculiar
+features of the epidemic under which the child was suffering,
+and with the aid of a small store of medicines which my
+good sister had insisted on my taking with me, and a rigid
+enforcement of some of the simplest rules of diet and regimen, I
+had the happiness of seeing the child in a few days out of danger,
+and of receiving the mother's rapturous thanks. That moment,
+gave me the first gleam of happiness I had known for months,
+and disposed me to listen to the entreaties of the poor creatures
+who came from far and near to entreat the aid of the Doctor,
+as they persisted in calling me, notwithstanding my repeated
+assurances that I had no right to the title. I spent weeks in
+that neighborhood, and there I was born to a new life. Till
+that time I had lived to myself, and when that in which I had
+centered my earthly joy was snatched from me by death, I
+had felt that life had nothing left for me; but now I saw that
+while there were sentient beings in the universe to serve, and a<a class='page' name ='Page_118' id='Page_118' title='118'>&nbsp;</a>
+glorious and ever blessed Father presiding over that universe
+and smiling on such service, life could not be divested of joy.
+Under the influence of such views my plans for the future were
+formed, nor have I ever seen reason to change or to regret them.
+Every where the Christian religion teaches the same precepts,
+but not every where is it equally easy to see the way in which
+those precepts may be obeyed; every where it is true, as a distinguished
+writer of your own land has said, 'Blessed is the
+man who has found his work&mdash;let him seek no other blessedness;'
+but not every where is it equally easy to see where our
+work lies. Here, in America, the partition-walls which stand
+elsewhere as a remnant of the old feudalism, have been broken
+down; every man is irresistibly pressed into contact with his
+neighbors&mdash;he cannot shut his eyes to their wants&mdash;he cannot
+stop his ears against their cries. In America, too, every man,
+as I have already said, must be a worker&mdash;or, if he live an idler,
+it must be on that which his father gained by the sweat of his
+brow, and he leaves his children to enslaving toil, or more enslaving
+dependence. Here the man of pleasure, the idler of
+either sex, is a foreign exotic which finds no nourishment in
+our soil, no shelter from our institutions&mdash;which is out of
+harmony with our social life, and must ever be marked by the
+innate vulgarity of unsustained pretension. Therefore it is
+comparatively easy for us to hold out the hand of love to our
+brethren, sinking and suffering at our very side, and to teach
+them that there is no natural inalienable connection between
+labor and coarseness, ignorance and servility; that man, though
+compelled to win his bread by the sweat of his brow, may still
+enjoy all those graceful amenities of which woman was the type
+in Paradise and is the promoter here; that the light of knowledge
+and the divine light of faith may still cheer him in his
+pursuits and guide him to his rest. It seems to me that to bring
+out these principles fairly to the world's perception, is the mission<a class='page' name ='Page_119' id='Page_119' title='119'>&nbsp;</a>
+to which America has been especially appointed&mdash;is that for
+which Americans should live; and to this I have accordingly
+devoted myself. For this I purchased my present property&mdash;for
+this I determined, while allowing myself and my daughter
+all the comforts of life, to dispense with many of those luxuries
+to which my fortune might have seemed to entitle us, lest I
+should separate myself too far from those I would aid. Here I
+have spent seventeen years of life, happy in my work, and
+happier in the conviction that it has not been in vain."</p>
+
+<p>As Mr. Grahame paused, Horace Danforth turned to Mary
+Grahame. Her eyes were fixed upon him. They seemed to
+challenge his admiration for her father, in whose hand her own
+was clasped, as though she would thus intimate the perfect accordance
+of her feelings with his.</p>
+
+<p>"And this, then," he said to her, "is your object?"</p>
+
+<p>"It is."</p>
+
+<p>"An object to which you were devoted by your father in
+your infancy?"</p>
+
+<p>"And which I have since adopted on my own intelligent
+conviction," said Mary, earnestly, losing all timidity in a glow
+of that generous enthusiasm which sits so gracefully on a gentle
+woman.</p>
+
+<p>There was silence in the little circle&mdash;silence with all; with
+one, thought was rapidly passing down the long vista of the
+past, and pointing the awakened mind to the fact that elsewhere
+than in America was there ignorance to be enlightened
+and want to be relieved&mdash;that not here only did Christianity
+teach that man should live not unto himself alone, and that he
+should love his neighbor as himself.</p>
+
+<p>The thoughts and feelings aroused on that evening colored
+the whole future destiny of Horace Danforth. Ere another day
+had passed, he had confided to his host so much of his history
+as proved him to be an aimless and almost unconnected wan<a class='page' name ='Page_120' id='Page_120' title='120'>&nbsp;</a>derer
+on the earth, with a prospect of a fortune which, unequal
+to the demands of a man of fashion in England, would give to
+a <i>worker</i> in America great influence for good or for evil&mdash;as the
+personal property of Sir Thomas Maitland could not, as Horace
+Danforth was well aware, be valued at less than 50,000 dollars.
+With that rapid decision which had ever marked his movements,
+the young Englishman determined to purchase land in
+the neighborhood of Mr. Grahame, there to rear his future hope,
+and to devote his life to the like noble purposes. The land
+was purchased, the site for the house was selected and marked
+out&mdash;but the house was never built&mdash;for ere that had been
+accomplished Horace Danforth discovered that the companionship
+of a cultivated woman was essential to his views of "Life
+in America," and that Mary Grahame was exactly the embodiment
+of that youthful vision which he had sought in vain elsewhere;
+for she united the delicacy and refined grace, with the
+intelligent mind, the active affections and energetic will, which
+were necessary at once to please his fancy and satisfy his heart
+Mary Grahame could not consent to leave her father to a lonely
+home, but yet she could not deny that it would be a sad home
+to her if deprived of the society of him whose intelligent and
+varied converse and manly tenderness had lately formed the
+chief charm of her existence. There was only one way of
+reconciling these conflicting claims. Horace Danforth must
+live with Mr. Grahame; and so he did, having first obtained
+that gentleman's permission to enlarge his house, and to furnish
+it with some of those inventions by which art has so greatly
+lightened domestic occupation, and which had been made familiar
+to him by his life abroad.</p>
+
+<p>Six months had been spent in this abode&mdash;six months of
+an existence of joy and love, untroubled as it could be to those
+who were yet dwellers upon earth&mdash;six months in which the
+fastidious and world-wearied man learned the secret of true<a class='page' name ='Page_121' id='Page_121' title='121'>&nbsp;</a>
+peace in a life devoted to useful and benevolent objects&mdash;when
+a most unexpected visitor arrived in the person of Sir Edward
+Maitland&mdash;no, not Sir Edward. He came to announce that to
+this title he had no right. That he had remained himself, and
+suffered his cousin to remain so long in ignorance on this point,
+had been the result of no want of effort to arrive at the truth,
+still less of any lingering love of the honors forced upon him.
+He had never assumed the title, nor suffered the secret of his
+supposed change of circumstances to be known beyond himself
+and the lawyer to whom his cousin Horace had revealed it.
+This lawyer, it may be remembered, had lately succeeded in
+the care of the Maitland estate to an uncle, who had been
+compelled by the infirmities of advancing age to retire from
+business. The old man was absent from England when Horace
+Danforth left it, and it was not till his return that full satisfaction
+on the subject had been obtained, as it was judged unwise
+by Mr. Decker to awaken public attention by investigations
+which his uncle's return would probably render unnecessary.
+When he did return, and the subject was cautiously unfolded
+to him, he spent many minutes in <i>pishing</i> and <i>pshawing</i> at the
+folly and impetuosity of young Baronets, who, knowing nothing
+of the tenure on which they hold their estates, cannot at
+least wait till they consult wiser people before they throw them
+away. The entail of nearly two centuries ago had, it seems,
+been set aside in little more than one, by an improvident father
+and son, who had in fact greatly diminished the very fine property
+so entailed, though most of it had been since recovered by
+the care of their successors. The intelligence thus conveyed to
+him who was now once more Sir Horace Danforth Maitland,
+was of mingled sweet and bitter. He could not be insensible
+to the joy of returning to the home of his childhood and the
+people among whom he had grown to manhood, yet neither
+could he leave, without tender regrets, that in which he had<a class='page' name ='Page_122' id='Page_122' title='122'>&nbsp;</a>
+first learned to love, and to live a true, a noble, and a happy
+life.</p>
+
+<p>When Mary was first saluted as Lady Maitland by Edward,
+she turned a glance of inquiry upon her husband, and then
+upon her father, for both were present by previous arrangement;
+and as she read a confirmation of the fact in their smiling faces,
+the color faded from hers, and after a moment's vain effort to
+contend against her painful emotion, she burst into tears.</p>
+
+<p>"Your father has promised to spend his life with us, dearest,"
+said Sir Horace Maitland, as he threw his arm around
+her and drew her to his side.</p>
+
+<p>"But this dear home," sobbed Mary; "this people, for whom
+and with whom we have lived so happily."</p>
+
+<p>"All that made this home dear, my daughter, you will take
+with you to another home."</p>
+
+<p>"And there, too," interposed Sir Horace, "my Mary will
+find a people to enlighten and to bless, over whom her influence
+will be unbounded, and to whom she will prove an angel of
+consolation."</p>
+
+<p>"And can you carry your American life to your English
+home?" she asked of her husband, smiling through her tears.</p>
+
+<p>"As much of it as is independent of outward circumstances,
+Mary&mdash;its spirit, its aims; for they belong to a Christian life,
+and that I hope, by God's blessing, to live henceforth, wherever
+I may be."</p>
+
+<p>"And what will become of all our projected improvements
+here?" she inquired of her father.</p>
+
+<p>"I shall not leave this place myself, Mary, till I can find
+some one like-minded, who will take our place and do our
+work. To such a man I will sell the property on such terms as
+he can afford, or if he cannot buy, he shall farm it for me."</p>
+
+<p>This last was the arrangement made with one whom Mr.
+Grahame had known in early life, and who had always been<a class='page' name ='Page_123' id='Page_123' title='123'>&nbsp;</a>
+distinguished by true Christian uprightness and benevolence
+The terms offered by Mr. Grahame to this gentleman were such,
+that the conscientious and excellent agent became in a few
+years the proprietor and under his fostering care, all those
+plans for the intellectual and moral improvement of the neighborhood
+which had been so happily commenced, were matured
+and perfected.</p>
+
+<p>It was nearly a year after the departure of his children before
+Mr. Grahame was able to join them at Maitland Park.
+With his arrival Mary felt that her cup of joy was full. It had
+been with a trembling heart that she assumed the brilliant position
+to which Providence had conducted her; not that she
+feared the judgment of man: her fear had been lest in the midst
+of abundance she should forget the hand that fed her&mdash;lest
+amidst the fascinations of an intellectual and polished society,
+she should forget the thick darkness which covered so many
+immortal minds around her. But already she had cast aside
+this unworthy fear, unworthy of Him in whom is the Christian's
+strength.</p>
+
+<p>The early dream of the Proprietor of Maitland Park is fulfilled.
+The softening and refining presence of woman diffuses
+a new charm over its social life, and while his Mary is to his
+tenantry what he himself predicted, an angel of consolation,
+she is to him a faithful co-worker in all that may advance the
+reign of peace and righteousness, of intelligence and joy,
+throughout the world.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a class='page' name ='Page_124' id='Page_124' title='124'>&nbsp;</a><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a><a href="#CONTENTS">CHAPTER VII.</a></h2>
+
+
+<p>A Sabbath in the country, with a Sabbath quiet in the air,
+and a cheerful sunlight beaming like the smile of Heaven on
+the earth&mdash;how beautiful it is! Donaldson Manor is only a
+short walk from the church whose white spire gleams up amidst
+the dark grove of pines on our left; at least, it is only a short
+walk in summer, when we can approach it through the flowery
+lanes which separate Col. Donaldson's fields from those of his
+next neighbor, Mr. Manly. Now, however, the walk is impracticable,
+and all the sleighs were yesterday morning in requisition,
+to transport the family and their visitors to their place of
+worship. I was a little afraid that the merry music of the sleigh-bells
+and the rapid drive through the clear air might make our
+young people's blood dance too briskly&mdash;that they would be
+unable to preserve that sobriety of manner becoming those who
+are about professedly to engage in the worship of Him who
+inhabiteth Eternity. I was gratified, however, to perceive that
+they all had good feeling or good taste enough to preserve,
+throughout their drive and the services which followed it, a
+quiet and reverent demeanor. It may seem strange to some,
+that I should characterize this as a possible effect of "good
+taste;" but in my opinion, he who does not pay the tribute at
+least of outward respect to this holy day, is incapable not only
+of that high, spiritual communion which brings man near to
+his Creator, but of that tender sympathy which binds him to<a class='page' name ='Page_125' id='Page_125' title='125'>&nbsp;</a>
+his fellow-creatures, or even of that poetic taste which would
+place his soul in harmony with external nature. Let it not be
+thought that I would have this day of blessing to the world regarded
+with a cynical severity, or that the quietness and the
+reverence of which I speak are at all akin to sadness. Were
+not cheerfulness, in my opinion, a part of godliness, I should
+say of it as some one has said of cleanliness, that it is next to
+godliness. Like my favorite, Mrs. Elizabeth Barrett Browning,</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"I think we are too ready with complaint<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In this fair world of God's;"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>and like her, I would utter to all the exhortation,</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">"Let us leave the shame and sin<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of taking vainly, in a plaintive mood,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The holy name of Grief!&mdash;holy herein,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That, by the grief of One, came all our good."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>But cheerfulness, so far from being incompatible with, seems to
+me inseparable from that true worship which is the best source
+of the Sabbath seriousness I am advocating.</p>
+
+<p>The remarks of the preacher were quite in unison with
+these thoughts, and pleased me so much that, were it admissible,
+I should be delighted to dignify my pages with them. By a
+few vivid touches, in language simple, yet beautiful, he sketched
+for us the first Sabbath amidst the living springs and fadeless
+bloom and verdant shades of Paradise, when sinless man communed
+with his Maker and his Father, not through the poor
+symbols of a ceremonial worship, but face to face, as a man
+talketh with his friend. But all I would say of the Sabbath
+has been said a thousand times better than I could say it, by
+good George Herbert, whose words I am sure I need not apologize
+for introducing here.</p>
+
+
+<h3><a class='page' name ='Page_126' id='Page_126' title='126'>&nbsp;</a><a name="SUNDAY" id="SUNDAY"></a><a href="#CONTENTS">SUNDAY.</a></h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table class='poem' border='0'><tr><td>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">O day most calm, most bright!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The fruit of this, the next world's bud;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Th' indorsement of supreme delight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Writ by a Friend, and with His blood;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The couch of time; care's balm and bay:&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The week were dark, but for thy light;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thy torch doth show the way.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The other days and thou<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Make up one man; whose face <i>thou</i> art,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Knocking at heaven with thy brow;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The worky days are the back-part;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The burden of the week lies there,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Making the whole to stoop and bow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till thy release appear.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Man hath straight forward gone<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To endless death. But thou dost pull<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And turn us round, to look on One,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whom, if we were not very dull,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We could not choose but look on still;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Since there is no place so alone,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The which He doth not fill.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Sundays the pillars are<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On which heaven's palace arched lies:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The other days fill up the spare<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And hollow room with vanities.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They are the fruitful bed and borders,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In God's rich garden; that is bare,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which parts their ranks and orders.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The Sundays of man's life,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Threaded together on time's string,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Make bracelets to adorn the wife<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of the eternal, glorious King.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On Sunday, heaven's gate stands ope;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Blessings are plentiful and rife!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">More plentiful than hope.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0"><a class='page' name ='Page_127' id='Page_127' title='127'>&nbsp;</a>This day my Saviour rose,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And did inclose this light for His:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That, as each beast his manger knows,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Man might not of his fodder miss.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Christ hath took in this piece of ground,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And made a garden there, for those<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who want herbs for their wound.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The Rest of our creation,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Our great Redeemer did remove,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With the same shake which, at his passion,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Did th' earth, and all things with it, move.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As Samson bore the doors away,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Christ's hand's, though nailed, wrought our salvation,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And did unhinge that day.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The brightness of that day<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We sullied, by our foul offence;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Wherefore that robe we cast away,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Having a new at His expense,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whose drops of blood paid the full price<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That was required, to make us gay,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And fit for paradise.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Thou art a day of mirth:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And, where the week-days trail on ground,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thy flight is higher, as thy birth.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Oh, let me take thee at the bound,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Leaping with thee from seven to seven;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till that we both, being toss'd from earth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fly hand in hand to Heaven!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+</td></tr></table></div>
+
+<p>It is the custom at Donaldson Manor to close the Sabbath
+evening with sacred music. Annie, at her father's request,
+played while we all sang his favorite evening hymn, which I
+here transcribe.</p>
+
+
+<h3><a class='page' name ='Page_128' id='Page_128' title='128'>&nbsp;</a><a name="EVENING_HYMN" id="EVENING_HYMN"></a><a href="#CONTENTS">EVENING HYMN.</a></h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table class='poem' border='0'><tr><td>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Father! by Thy love and power,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Comes again the evening hour;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Light hath vanish'd, labors cease,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Weary creatures rest, in peace.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Those, whose genial dews distil<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On the lowliest weed that grows<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Father! guard our couch from ill,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lull thy creatures to repose.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We to Thee ourselves resign,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Let our latest thoughts be Thine.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Saviour! to thy Father bear<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">This our feeble evening prayer;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thou hast seen how oft to-day<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We, like sheep, have gone astray;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Worldly thoughts and thoughts of pride,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Wishes to Thy cross untrue,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Secret faults and undescried<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Meet Thy spirit-piercing view.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Blessed Saviour! yet, through Thee,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Pray that these may pardon'd be.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Holy Spirit! Breath of Balm!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Breathe on us in evening's calm.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet awhile before we sleep,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We with Thee will vigils keep.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lead us on our sins to muse,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Give us truest penitence,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then the love of God infuse,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Kindling humblest confidence.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Melt our spirits, mould our will,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Soften, strengthen, comfort, still.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Blessed Trinity! be near<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Through the hours of darkness drear.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When the help of man is far<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ye more clearly present are.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><a class='page' name ='Page_129' id='Page_129' title='129'>&nbsp;</a>Father, Son, and Holy Ghost!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Watch o'er our defenceless heads,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Let your angels' guardian host<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Keep all evil from our beds,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till the flood of morning rays<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Wake as to a song of praise.<a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+</td></tr></table></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a class='page' name ='Page_130' id='Page_130' title='130'>&nbsp;</a><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a><a href="#CONTENTS">CHAPTER VIII.</a></h2>
+
+
+<p>Mr. Arlington is a gem of the first water. He reveals every
+day some new trait of interest or agreeableness. I saw immediately
+that he was a man of fine taste; I have since learned
+to respect him as a man of enlarged intellect and earnest feeling;
+and now I am just beginning to discover that he is master
+of all those <i>agr&eacute;mens</i> which constitute the charm of general
+society, and that he might become the "glass of fashion," if he
+had not a mind elevated too far above such a petty ambition.
+This last observation has been called forth by mere trifles,
+yet trifles so prettily shown, with such ease and grace, as to
+justify the conclusion. He is apt at illustration and application,
+and has a fine memory, stored brimfull of entertaining anecdotes,
+snatches of poetry, and those thousand nothings which
+tell for so much in society, and which it is so pleasant to find
+combined with much else that is valuable. A few evenings
+since, he kept Annie and me in the library, with his agreeable
+chat, till so late an hour, that Col. Donaldson, who is the least
+bit of a martinet in his own family, gave some very intelligible
+hints to us the next morning, at breakfast, on the value of early
+hours. With a readiness and grace which I never saw surpassed,
+Mr. Arlington turned to us with the exquisite apology of the
+poet for a like fault,</p>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table class='poem' border='0'><tr><td>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0"><a class='page' name ='Page_131' id='Page_131' title='131'>&nbsp;</a>"I stay'd too late; forgive the crime;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Unheeded flew the hours.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Unnoted falls the foot of time,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which only treads on flowers."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+</td></tr></table></div>
+
+<p>This evening again, as he placed a candle-screen before
+Annie, who, having a headache, found the light oppressive, he
+said with a graceful mixture of play and earnest, impossible to
+describe,</p>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table class='poem' border='0'><tr><td>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Ah, lady! if that taper's blaze<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Requires a screen to blunt its rays,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What screen, not form'd by art divine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shall shield us from those orbs of thine?<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"But oh! let nothing intervene<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Our hearts and those bright suns between;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">'Tis bliss, like the bewilder'd fly<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To flutter round, though sure to die."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+</td></tr></table></div>
+
+<p>As the others were engaged in very earnest conversation at
+the time, and I was reading, he probably expected to be heard
+only by her to whom he addressed himself; but a little romance,
+such as that of Annie and Mr. Arlington, acted before
+me, interests me far more than any book, and I brought a
+bright blush to Annie's cheek and a conscious smile to his lip,
+by asking, "Where did you find those very apposite lines? I
+do not remember to have seen them."</p>
+
+<p>"Probably not, as they have never been published. They
+were addressed by Anthony Bleecker, of New-York, to a belle
+of his day, and the lady for whose sake, it is whispered, he
+lived and died a bachelor."</p>
+
+<p>Our colloquy was here interrupted by Robert Dudley, who
+wanted to know if we were to have no story this evening.
+Robert was a great lover of stories. "Ask Mr. Arlington,
+Robert," said I, "I have given three stories to his one already."</p>
+
+<p><a class='page' name ='Page_132' id='Page_132' title='132'>&nbsp;</a>"Aunt Nancy," said Mr. Arlington, who had already begun
+to give me the affectionate cognomen by which I was always
+addressed at Donaldson Manor, "Aunt Nancy has stories without
+number, written and ready for demand, but my portfolio
+furnishes only rude pencilings, or at best a crayon sketch."</p>
+
+<p>"Will you show them to us, Mr. Arlington?" asked the persevering
+Robert, who stood beside him, portfolio in hand.
+"May I draw one out, as Aunt Annie did the other evening;
+and will you tell us about it?"</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Arlington, with good-humored playfulness, consented,
+and Robert drew from the portfolio one of his drawings, representing
+a fisherman's family.</p>
+
+<p>"That man," said I, as I looked at the honest face of the rude,
+weather-beaten fisherman, "looks as though he had passed
+through adventurous scenes, and might have many a history
+to tell."</p>
+
+<p>"He did not tell his histories to me," said Mr. Arlington.
+"I know nothing more of them than that paper reveals. It
+seemed to me that the woman and child were visiting, for the
+first time, the ocean, whose booming sound was to the fisherman
+as the voice of home. He was probably introducing them
+to its wonders&mdash;revealing to them the mysteries which awaken
+the superstition of the vulgar and the poetry of the cultivated
+imagination. He has given her, you may observe, a sea-shell,
+and she is listening for the first time to its low, strange music."</p>
+
+<p>"And is that all?" asked Robert, when Mr. Arlington
+ceased speaking.</p>
+
+<p>"All I know, Robert," he answered, with a smile at the
+boy's earnestness.</p>
+
+<p>"But did you never go fishing yourself, Mr. Arlington?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not often, Robert; I like more active sports better&mdash;hunting&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Ah! do tell us about your hunting, Mr. Arlington; you<a class='page' name ='Page_133' id='Page_133' title='133'>&nbsp;</a>
+must have had some adventures in hunting in those great
+Western forests I have heard you speak of."</p>
+
+<p>"The greatest adventure I ever had, Robert," said Mr.
+Arlington, "was in an <i>Eastern</i> forest, and when I was the
+<i>hunted</i>, not the <i>hunter</i>."</p>
+
+<p>"Indians, Mr. Arlington&mdash;were they Indians that hunted
+you?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, Robert; my hunters were wolves."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! pray tell us about it, Mr. Arlington, will you not?"</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly, with the ladies' permission."</p>
+
+<p>The ladies' permission was soon obtained, and our little
+party listened with the deepest interest to the thrilling recital
+which I have called</p>
+
+
+<h3><a name="THE_WOLF_CHASE" id="THE_WOLF_CHASE"></a><a href="#CONTENTS">THE WOLF CHASE.</a><a name="FNanchor_2_2" id="FNanchor_2_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a></h3>
+
+<p>During the winter of 1844, being engaged in the northern
+part of Maine, I had much leisure to devote to the wild sports
+of a new country. To none of these was I more passionately
+addicted than to skating. The deep and sequestered lakes of
+this State, frozen by the intense cold of a northern winter, present
+a wide field to the lovers of this pastime. Often would I
+bind on my skates, and glide away up the glittering river, and
+wind each mazy streamlet that flowed beneath its fetters on towards
+the parent ocean, forgetting all the while time and distance
+in the luxurious sense of the gliding motion&mdash;thinking of
+nothing in the easy flight, but rather dreaming, as I looked
+through the transparent ice at the long weeds and cresses that
+nodded in the current beneath, and seemed wrestling with the
+waves to let them go; or I would follow on the track of some<a class='page' name ='Page_134' id='Page_134' title='134'>&nbsp;</a>
+fox or otter, and run my skate along the mark he had left with his
+dragging tail until the trail would enter the woods. Sometimes
+these excursions were made by moonlight, and it was on one of
+these occasions that I had a rencontre, which even now, with
+kind faces around me, I cannot recall without a nervous looking-over-my-shoulder
+feeling.</p>
+
+<p>I had left my friend's house one evening just before dusk,
+with the intention of skating a short distance up the noble Kennebec,
+which glided directly before the door. The night was
+beautifully clear. A peerless moon rode through an occasional
+fleecy cloud, and stars twinkled from the sky and from every
+frost-covered tree in millions. Your mind would wonder at the
+light that came glinting from ice, and snow-wreath, and incrusted
+branches, as the eye followed for miles the broad gleam
+of the Kennebec, that like a jewelled zone swept between the
+mighty forests on its banks. And yet all was still. The cold
+seemed to have frozen tree, and air, and water, and every living
+thing that moved. Even the ringing of my skates on the ice
+echoed back from the Moccason Hill with a startling clearness,
+and the crackle of the ice as I passed over it in my course
+seemed to follow the tide of the river with lightning speed.</p>
+
+<p>I had gone up the river nearly two miles when, coming to
+a little stream which empties into the larger, I turned in to explore
+its course. Fir and hemlock of a century's growth met
+overhead, and formed an archway radiant with frost-work. All
+was dark within, but I was young and fearless, and as I peered
+into an unbroken forest that reared itself on the borders of the
+stream, I laughed with very joyousness: my wild hurrah rang
+through the silent woods, and I stood listening to the echo that
+reverberated again and again, until all was hushed. I thought
+how often the Indian hunter had concealed himself behind these
+very trees&mdash;how often his arrow had pierced the deer by this
+very stream, and his wild halloo had here rung for his victory.<a class='page' name ='Page_135' id='Page_135' title='135'>&nbsp;</a>
+And then, turning from fancy to reality, I watched a couple of
+white owls, that sat in their hooded state, with ruffled pantalettes
+and long ear-tabs, debating in silent conclave the affairs
+of their frozen realm, and was wondering if they, "for all their
+feathers, were a-cold," when suddenly a sound arose&mdash;it seemed
+to me to come from beneath the ice; it sounded low and tremulous
+at first, until it ended in one wild yell. I was appalled.
+Never before had such a noise met my ears. I thought it more
+than mortal&mdash;so fierce, and amidst such an unbroken solitude,
+it seemed as though a fiend had blown a blast from an infernal
+trumpet. Presently I heard the twigs on shore snap, as though
+from the tread of some brute animal, and the blood rushed
+back to my forehead with a bound that made my skin burn,
+and I felt relieved that I had to contend with things earthly,
+and not of spiritual nature&mdash;my energies returned, and I looked
+around me for some means of escape. The moon shone through
+the opening at the mouth of the creek by which I had entered
+the forest, and considering this the best channel of escape, I
+darted towards it like an arrow. 'Twas scarcely a hundred
+yards distant, and the swallow could hardly excel my desperate
+flight; yet, as I turned my head to the shore, I could see two
+dark objects dashing through the underbrush at a pace nearly
+double in speed to my own. By this rapidity, and the short
+yells which they occasionally gave, I knew at once that these
+were the much dreaded gray wolf.</p>
+
+<p>I had never met with these animals, but from the description
+given of them I had very little pleasure in making their
+acquaintance. Their untameable fierceness, and the untiring
+strength which seems part of their nature, render them objects
+of dread to every benighted traveller.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"With their long gallop, which can tire<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The deer-hound's haste, the hunter's fire,"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p><a class='page' name ='Page_136' id='Page_136' title='136'>&nbsp;</a>they pursue their prey&mdash;never straying from the track of their
+victim&mdash;and as the wearied hunter thinks he has at last outstripped
+them, he finds that they but waited for the evening to
+seize their prey, and falls a prize to the tireless pursuers.</p>
+
+<p>The bushes that skirted the shore flew past with the velocity
+of lightning as I dashed on in my flight to pass the narrow
+opening. The outlet was nearly gained; one second more and
+I should be comparatively safe, when the fierce brutes appeared
+on the bank directly above me, which here rose to the height of
+ten feet. There was no time for thought, so I bent my head
+and dashed madly forward. The wolves sprang, but miscalculating
+my speed, sprang behind, while their intended prey
+glided out upon the river.</p>
+
+<p>Nature turned me towards home. The light flakes of snow
+spun from the iron of my skates, and I was some distance from
+my pursuers, when their fierce howl told me I was still their
+fugitive. I did not look back, I did not feel afraid, or sorry, or
+glad; one thought of home, of the bright faces awaiting my
+return, of their tears if they never should see me, and then every
+energy of body and mind was exerted for escape. I was perfectly
+at home on the ice. Many were the days that I had
+spent on my good skates, never thinking that at one time they
+would be my only means of safety. Every half minute an alternate
+yelp from my ferocious followers made me only too
+certain that they were in close pursuit. Nearer and nearer they
+came; I heard their feet pattering on the ice nearer still, until
+I could feel their breath and hear their snuffing scent. Every
+nerve and muscle in my frame were stretched to the utmost
+tension.</p>
+
+<p>The trees along the shore seemed to dance in the uncertain
+light, and my brain turned with my own breathless speed, yet
+still they seemed to hiss forth their breath with a sound truly
+horrible, when an involuntary motion on my part turned me out<a class='page' name ='Page_137' id='Page_137' title='137'>&nbsp;</a>
+of my course. The wolves close behind, unable to stop, and
+as unable to turn on the smooth ice, slipped and fell, still going
+on far ahead; their tongues were lolling out, their white tusks
+glaring from their bloody mouths, their dark, shaggy breasts
+were fleeced with foam, and as they passed me their eyes
+glared, and they howled with fury. The thought flashed on
+my mind, that by this means I could avoid them, viz., by turning
+aside whenever they came too near; for they, by the formation
+of their feet, are unable to run on ice except on a straight
+line.</p>
+
+<p>I immediately acted upon this plan. The wolves, having
+regained their feet, sprang directly towards me. The race was
+renewed for twenty yards up the stream; they were already
+close on my back, when I glided round and dashed directly
+past my pursuers. A wild yell greeted my evolution, and the
+wolves, slipping upon their haunches, sailed onward, presenting
+a perfect picture of helplessness and baffled rage. Thus I gained
+nearly a hundred yards at each turning. This was repeated
+two or three times, every moment the animals getting more
+excited and baffled.</p>
+
+<p>At one time, by delaying my turning too long, my sanguinary
+antagonists came so near, that they threw the white
+foam over my dress as they sprang to seize me, and their teeth
+clashed together, like the spring of a fox-trap. Had my skates
+failed for one instant, had I tripped on a stick, or caught my
+foot in a fissure in the ice, the story I am now telling would
+never have been told. I thought all the chances over; I knew
+where they would first take hold of me if I fell; I thought how
+long it would be before I died, and then there would be a
+search for the body that would already have its tomb;&mdash;for
+oh! how fast man's mind traces out all the dread colors of
+Death's picture, only those who have been near the grim original
+can tell.</p>
+
+<p><a class='page' name ='Page_138' id='Page_138' title='138'>&nbsp;</a>But soon I came opposite the house, and my hounds&mdash;I
+knew their deep voices&mdash;roused by the noise, bayed furiously
+from the kennels. I heard their chains rattle; how I wished
+they would break them! and then I should have protectors
+that would be peers to the fiercest denizens of the forest. The
+wolves, taking the hint conveyed by the dogs, stopped in their
+mad career, and after a moment's consideration, turned and fled.
+I watched them until their dusky forms disappeared over a
+neighboring hill. Then, taking off my skates, wended my way
+to the house, with feelings which may be better imagined than
+described.</p>
+
+<p>But even yet, I never see a broad sheet of ice in the moonshine,
+without thinking of that snuffling breath and those fearful
+things that followed me so closely down the frozen Kennebec.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a class='page' name ='Page_139' id='Page_139' title='139'>&nbsp;</a><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a><a href="#CONTENTS">CHAPTER IX.</a></h2>
+
+
+<p>"What a noble forest!" cried Annie, as she gazed with rapturous
+admiration on a noble specimen of the engraver's art&mdash;so
+noble, indeed, that the absence of color seemed hardly to be
+felt. It was a richly-wooded scene, with interesting figures
+forming a procession in the centre and foreground of the landscape.
+The original might have been painted by Ruysda&euml;l.
+"Those old oaks," she exclaimed, "with their gnarled and
+crooked branches, look as though they might have formed part
+of the Druidical groves whose solemn mysteries inspired even
+the arrogant Roman with awe. This picture, however, belongs
+to a later period&mdash;that of the Crusades, perhaps, for here is a
+procession in which appear figures in the long robe of the monk,
+and I think I can discern a cross on that banner borne at their
+head. But what, dear Aunt Nancy, could you possibly find in
+our land of yesterday, to associate with such a scene?"</p>
+
+<p>"Our people may be of yesterday, Annie, but our land bears
+no marks of recent origin. The most arrogant boaster of the
+Old World may feel himself humbled as he stands within the
+shadow of our forests, and looks up to trees which we might
+almost fancy to have waved over the heads of 'the patriarchs of
+an infant world?'"</p>
+
+<p>"And you have seen some such forests, and on the branches
+of these old trees 'hangs a tale' which you will tell us. Is it
+not so, Aunt Nancy?"</p>
+
+<p><a class='page' name ='Page_140' id='Page_140' title='140'>&nbsp;</a>"I have seen such a forest, and I have a sketch of certain
+events occurring within its circle. The narrative was given
+me by my friend, Mrs. H., who was acquainted with the parties.
+You will find it in her handwriting in the compartment of my
+desk from which you took the engraving."</p>
+
+<p>Annie found the paper, and I saw a quiet smile pass around
+as she read aloud its title. Mr. Arlington, at my request, took
+the reader's place, and we spent our evening in listening to</p>
+
+
+<h3><a name="THE_HISTORY_OF_AN_OLD_MAID" id="THE_HISTORY_OF_AN_OLD_MAID"></a><a href="#CONTENTS">THE HISTORY OF AN OLD MAID.</a></h3>
+
+<p>It is an almost universal belief among those who have faith in
+man's immortality, that when his spiritual nature has been
+divested of its present veil&mdash;the bodily organization by which
+it at pleasure reveals or conceals itself&mdash;it shall be manifested
+to all at a glance in the unsullied beauty of holiness, or the
+dark deformity of vice. Shall our vision extend further? Shall
+we read the soul's past history? Shall we know the struggles
+which have given strength to its powers? The fears which
+have shadowed, and the hopes which have lighted, its earthly
+path? Shall we learn the unspoken sacrifices which have been
+laid on the altar of its affections or its duty? Shall we see
+how a single generous impulse has shaped the whole course of
+its being, and been as a heavenly flame, to which every selfish
+desire and feeling have been committed in noiseless devotion?
+If this be so, how many such records shall be furnished by the
+life of woman? How often shall it be found, that from such a
+flame has risen the light with which she has brightened the
+existence of others!</p>
+
+<p>Meeta Werner was the daughter of industrious, honest Germans,
+who had emigrated to the western part of Pennsylvania
+when she was a child of only seven years old. Only a quarter
+of a mile from the spot on which Carl Werner had fixed his<a class='page' name ='Page_141' id='Page_141' title='141'>&nbsp;</a>
+residence lived a brother German, Franz Rainer. Franz was a
+widower, with one child, a son, named Ernest. He was a hard,
+stern man, and the first smiles which had lighted the existence
+of the young Ernest were caught from the sprightly Meeta and
+her kind-hearted mother. The children became playfellows
+and friends. It was a wild country in which they lived. A
+very short walk from their own doors brought them into a forest
+which seemed to their young imaginations endless; where
+gigantic trees interlaced their branches, and with their green
+foliage shut out the sun in summer, or in winter reflected it in
+dazzling brightness, and a thousand gorgeous colors, from the
+icicles which cased their leafless branches and pendent twigs.
+There was not a footpath, a sunny hill or flowery dell, for miles
+around their homes, which had not been trodden together by
+Meeta Werner and Ernest Rainer before their acquaintance was
+a year old. Now they would come home laden with wood-flowers,
+and now they might be seen treading wearily back
+from some distant spot, with baskets filled with blackberries,
+or with the dark-blue whortleberries. There were no schools
+in the neighborhood, but they had been taught by their
+fathers to read and write their own language, and Ernest
+afterwards acquired some knowledge of English from the
+good pastor who had accompanied the emigrants from Germany,
+and who acted as their interpreter when they required one.
+Having access to few books, they seemed likely to grow up with
+little more learning than might be gathered from their own observation
+of the world around them; but when Ernest was
+eighteen and Meeta fifteen years of age, circumstances occurred
+which gave an entirely new coloring to their lives.</p>
+
+<p>Franz Rainer had not always been so stern and hard as he
+now seemed. He had married imprudently, in the world's acceptation
+of that term; that is, he had made a portionless but
+lovely girl his wife, and in doing so had incurred his father's
+lasting displeasure. He had been banished from a home of<a class='page' name ='Page_142' id='Page_142' title='142'>&nbsp;</a>
+plenty with a small sum, "to keep him from starving," he was
+told. With that sum and a young delicate wife he sailed for
+America, and found a home for himself and his boy, and a
+grave for his wife, in the forests of Pennsylvania. Too proud
+to seek a reconciliation with those who had cast him off, he had
+held no communication with his own family after leaving Germany;
+and it was not till Ernest was, as we have said, eighteen,
+that the silence of his home was broken by what seemed
+a voice from the past. After many hindrances and delays, and
+passing through many hands for which it had not been intended,
+a letter reached him from a merchant in Philadelphia, who
+had been requested to institute a search for Franz by his only
+brother. The old Rainer was dead, and the family estate had
+descended to this brother, a scholar and a man of solitary habits.
+Finding himself growing old in a lonely home, and retaining
+some kindly memory of the brother in whose companionship
+his childhood had been passed, he wished him to return to Germany,
+and again dwell with them in the house of their fathers.
+To this Franz would by no means consent. His nature was
+cast in too stern a mould to re-knit at a word the ties which
+had been so violently sundered. He consented, however, after
+some correspondence with his brother, to send Ernest to Germany,
+to be educated there; at least, to receive such an education
+as could be gained in four years; for he insisted that at the
+end of that time he should return to America, and remain there
+while his father lived. "After my death, if he choose to return
+to the home from which his father was banished, he may,"
+wrote the still resentful Franz.</p>
+
+<p>And how was this change in all the prospects of his life received
+by the young Ernest and his companion Meeta? By him
+with mingled feelings; regret, joy, fear, hope, by turns ruled
+his soul. The regret was all for Meeta and her mother; they
+were the sources of all his pleasant memories; and as he gazed<a class='page' name ='Page_143' id='Page_143' title='143'>&nbsp;</a>
+upon Meeta's hitherto bright face, now clouded with sorrow,
+and kissed from her cheek the first tears he had ever known
+her to shed for herself, he was ready to give up all his fair prospects
+abroad and live with her for ever. Meeta herself, however,
+gave a new direction to his thoughts, by generously turning
+from the subject of her grief in parting, to dwell on the idea
+of the delight with which they would meet again, and especially
+on her peculiar pleasure in seeing Ernest come back "riding
+in a grand coach, with servants following him on horseback,
+as she remembered to have seen in Germany, and knowing
+enough to teach Parson Schmidt himself!" After listening to
+such prophecies, Ernest no longer expressed any desire to remain
+with Meeta; he contented himself, instead, with promising
+to return as soon as he could, and with winning from her a
+promise that, come when he might, she would be his wife.
+This was not a new thought or a new word to either. They
+could scarcely tell themselves when the idea had first arisen in
+their minds that they would one day live together, and be what
+Carl Werner and his wife were to each other. They had even
+chosen a site for their house; and Ernest had more than once
+of late expressed the opinion that they were old enough to inform
+their parents of their intentions; but the more timid
+Meeta objected. Now, however, she could refuse Ernest nothing,
+and before the day of parting came they had made a <i>confidante</i>
+of Meeta's mother, and from her the two fathers had learned the
+desires of their children. Carl Werner heard the story with a
+smile; but a denser shadow gathered on the dark brow of Franz.
+For a moment something of his father's pride was in his heart;
+but his own blighted life arose before him, and he said, "The boy
+may do as he pleases. No man has a right to control another
+on such a subject."</p>
+
+<p>The sun had not yet risen, though its rays were gilding the
+few light clouds that flecked the eastern sky, when Meeta and<a class='page' name ='Page_144' id='Page_144' title='144'>&nbsp;</a>
+Ernest stood together beneath an old oak which had long been
+their favorite "trysting-tree," to say those words and give and
+receive those last looks which are among life's most sacred treasures.
+Smiles and blushes mingled with tears on Meeta's cheek
+as Ernest pressed her to his bosom, kissed her again and again,
+and promised that his first letter from Germany should be addressed
+to her, and that in exactly four years from that date he
+would be again beneath that tree, to claim her promise to be
+his for ever. The voice of Carl Werner, who was to accompany
+Ernest the first stage of his journey, startled them in the
+midst of their adieus; and bursting from the arms of her companion,
+Meeta plunged deeper into the woods to escape her
+father's eye. When Carl returned in the evening he handed
+her a small parcel, saying, "There's some foolery that Ernest
+bought for you, Meeta. Silly boy! I hope they'll teach him in
+Germany to take better care of his money!"</p>
+
+<p>The parcel contained a very plain locket, with one of
+Ernest's dark curls inclosed in it. Plain as it was, it seemed to
+Meeta, as it probably had seemed to Ernest, a magnificent present;
+yet she valued more the few simple words written on the
+paper which enveloped it: "For Meeta, my promised wife."
+Four months passed away before Meeta heard again of her lover.
+Then there came a letter to her, which was full of the great
+cities through which Ernest had passed, the home to which he
+had come, and the new life which was opening to him there.
+In his descriptions his uncle seemed a very grand gentleman,
+and his uncle's housekeeper almost as grand a lady. He told
+of the new wardrobe which had been provided for him, the acquaintances
+to whom he had been introduced, and the studies
+he had commenced. And in all this Meeta saw but the first
+step towards that grandeur which she had predicted for him,
+and she rejoiced.</p>
+
+<p>Four or five such letters were received by Meeta, each full<a class='page' name ='Page_145' id='Page_145' title='145'>&nbsp;</a>
+of her lover himself; but they came at lengthening intervals,
+and during the third year she received from him only messages
+sent through his father, though every message still conveyed a
+promise to write soon. The letters of Ernest showed that he
+had made great advances in scholarship during his residence in
+Germany, and to all but Meeta herself, and perhaps her mother,
+they gave equal evidence that his heart was not with the home
+or the friends he had left in America. But no shadow ever
+passed over the transparent face of Meeta. Ernest was to her
+still the frank, ardent, simple-hearted boy whom she had loved so
+long and so truly. She was still his promised wife. Her quick
+sensibility to all which touched him made her feel that there
+was a change in the tone with which her father named him,
+and an expression, half of anger, half of pity, on his face
+when she alluded to him. It was an expression which gave her
+pain, though she did not understand its meaning; and she
+ceased to speak of Ernest, lest she should call it up; but his
+locket lay next her heart, his letters were well-nigh worn away
+with frequent reading, and no day passed in which she
+did not visit the oak beneath which they had parted, and
+beneath which she fondly believed they were to meet again.</p>
+
+<p>During the fourth year of Ernest's absence his letters to his
+father became more frequent, and sometimes inclosed a few lines
+to Meeta. To both he expressed a strong desire to stay one
+more year abroad, alleging that to interrupt his studies now
+would be to render all his past labors unavailing. There was
+hardly a struggle in Meeta's mind in yielding her almost
+matured hopes to what seemed so reasonable a wish of Ernest;
+but the elder Rainer was not so easily won to compliance.
+Urgent representations from his brother as well as Ernest, did
+at length, however, induce him to consent to the absence of his
+son for another year.</p>
+
+<p>This was an important year to Meeta. It brought her an<a class='page' name ='Page_146' id='Page_146' title='146'>&nbsp;</a>
+acquaintance through whom her dormant intellect was aroused,
+and her manners fitted for something more than the rude life
+by which she had been hitherto surrounded. This was Mrs.
+Schwartz, the wife of a young pastor, who had come to assist Mr.
+Schmidt in those duties to which his advancing years rendered
+him unequal. Mrs. Schwartz was a woman of no ordinary stamp.
+Highly educated, with an intense enjoyment of every form of
+beauty and grace, she saw something of them embellishing the
+homeliest employments and most common life with which a
+sentiment of duty was connected. Severe illness had confined
+her to her bed for many weeks soon after her arrival, and
+before she had been able to establish that perfect domestic economy,
+which renders the daily and hourly inspection and
+interference of the mistress of a mansion needless to the comfort
+of its inmates. During this period, Meeta, whose sympathies
+had been deeply interested in the stranger, nursed her, and
+planned for her, and worked for her, until she made herself a
+place in her heart among her life-friends. As Mrs. Schwartz
+saw her moving around her with such busy kindness, the
+thought often arose in her mind, "What can I do for her?"
+This is a question we seldom ask ourselves of any one sincerely
+without finding an answer to it.</p>
+
+<p>We have said that Meeta had access to few books in early
+life; we might have added that she had little opportunity of
+hearing the conversation of persons more cultivated than herself.
+Thus were the two great sources of intellectual development
+sealed to her. She had a thoughtful, earnest mind. She loved
+the beautiful world around her, and the <span class="smcap">Great Being</span> who
+made and sustained that world. But if the contemplation of
+these things awakened thoughts of a higher character than the
+daily baking and brewing, milking and scrubbing in her father's
+house, she had no language in which to clothe them, and vague
+and undefined, they fleeted away like the morning mists, leaving<a class='page' name ='Page_147' id='Page_147' title='147'>&nbsp;</a>
+no impress of their presence. Her acquaintance with Mrs.
+Schwartz, and the conversation she sometimes heard between
+her and her husband, gave to these shadows substance and
+form, and awakened a new want in Meeta's soul&mdash;the want of
+knowledge. As in all else, Ernest was present in this. He
+would doubtless be intelligent, wise, like Mr. Schwartz, and how
+could she be his companion? Something of these new experiences
+in Meeta was divined by Mrs. Schwartz, and with a
+true womanly tact she became her teacher without wounding
+her self-love. The road to knowledge once opened to Meeta,
+her advance on it was rapid. How could it be otherwise, when
+every step was bringing her nearer to Earnest! The elevation
+and refinement of mind which Meeta thus acquired impressed
+themselves on her agreeable features. Her dark eyes became
+bright with the soul's light, and her whole aspect so attractive,
+that her old friends exclaimed, as they looked upon her, "How
+handsome Meeta Werner grows, she who used to be so plain!"</p>
+
+<p>After a time these superficial observers thought they had
+found the cause of this change in Meeta's change of costume,
+for a new sense of beauty had been awakened in her, under
+whose guidance her dark hair was brought in soft silken braids
+upon her cheeks, wound gracefully around her well-shaped head,
+and sometimes ornamented with a ribbon or a cluster of wild
+flowers: while her dresses where remodelled so as to resemble
+less the fashion which her mother and her sister emigrants had
+imported thirteen years before from Germany, and to give a
+more natural air to her really fine figure.</p>
+
+<p>"How wonderfully Meeta has improved," said Mr. Schwartz,
+one evening to his wife, as he looked after the retreating form
+of her friend.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, and I am truly rejoiced that she has so improved
+before her lover returns to claim her."</p>
+
+<p>"I wish he could have taken away with him such an im<a class='page' name ='Page_148' id='Page_148' title='148'>&nbsp;</a>pression
+as our handsome and intelligent Meeta would now
+make. He would have been much more likely to remain
+constant to her. There must be a painful contrast between the
+cultivated and graceful women he has known in Germany, and
+his memory of his early love."</p>
+
+<p>"Love is a great embellisher," said Mrs. Schwartz, with a
+gay smile, and the conversation passed to more general topics.</p>
+
+<p>The fifth year of Ernest's absence was gone, and still he
+came not; but he was coming soon, at least so his father said,
+though he did not show Meeta the letters on which he founded
+his assertion. It was the first time he had withheld them; a
+circumstance the more remarkable, because of late he seemed
+to regard Meeta with greater affection and confidence than he
+had ever done before. He now sought her society, and seemed
+pleased and even proud of the connection to which he had at
+first consented with some reluctance. It was very soon after
+the reception of the letter from Ernest to which we have alluded,
+that Franz Rainer's health began to fail, and that so rapidly,
+that Meeta feared Ernest could not arrive in time to see him.
+She was to the old man an angel of consolation, and he clung
+to her as to his last hope. In pity to his lonely condition, her
+own parents were willing to spare her for a time, and Meeta,
+that she might take care of him by night as well as by day, had
+removed to his house a week before Ernest's arrival. He came
+not wholly unwarned of the sorrow that awaited him, for he had
+found a letter from Meeta at the house of the merchant in
+Philadelphia through whom he had corresponded with his
+father, tenderly yet plainly revealing her fears, and urging him
+to hurry homeward without delay. He travelled with little rest
+or refreshment for two days and nights, and arrived late on the
+third day at his father's house. It was a still summer evening,
+and while the old man slept, Meeta sat near him in the only
+parlor the house afforded, reading by a shaded night lamp.<a class='page' name ='Page_149' id='Page_149' title='149'>&nbsp;</a>
+She heard the sound of carriage wheels, and paused to listen;
+the sound ceased; a shadow darkened the moonlight which
+had been streaming through an open window, and then Ernest,
+the playfellow of her childhood, the lover of her youth, stood
+before her; but how changed, how gloriously changed thought
+Meeta, even in that hour of hurry and agitation. They gazed
+on each other in silence for a moment, and then Meeta with a
+bright smile, yet in a whisper, for even then she forgot not the
+dying man, asked:</p>
+
+<p>"Do you not know me, Ernest?"</p>
+
+<p>"Meeta!" he ejaculated, as he took the hand she extended
+to him, but dropping it almost immediately, he said anxiously:
+"My father! he lives, Meeta?"</p>
+
+<p>"He does, Ernest, and may live, I think <i>will</i> live, for many
+days yet."</p>
+
+<p>"Thank <span class="smcap">God</span>! then I shall see him again!"</p>
+
+<p>The conversation had till now been in whispers, but Ernest
+uttered his ejaculation of thankfulness aloud. There was a
+movement in the old man's room, a sound, and Meeta glided
+to his side.</p>
+
+<p>"Who were you talking with, my daughter?" he murmured
+feebly. For many days Franz Rainer had called Meeta
+daughter, as though he found pleasure in recalling the tie between
+them.</p>
+
+<p>"With one who tells me Ernest has arrived, and will see
+you soon," said Meeta.</p>
+
+<p>"It is Ernest himself. I knew his voice: Ernest, my
+son!" And the old man's tones were loud and strong, as
+Meeta had heard them for days. In another moment, Ernest
+was bending over his father, and they were gazing on each
+other with a tenderness whose very existence they had not before
+suspected. Tears were rolling down the face of the once
+stern old man, as he pressed his son's hand again and again,<a class='page' name ='Page_150' id='Page_150' title='150'>&nbsp;</a>
+and murmured blessings on him, and thanks to <span class="smcap">God</span> for his
+safe return; and Ernest, as he marked the death-shadow on
+his father's brow, felt that a tie was tearing away which had
+been woven more intimately than he had supposed with his
+heart's fibres. The weeping Meeta composed herself that she
+might soothe them.</p>
+
+<p>"Ernest, I cannot let you stay longer here; I am your
+father's nurse."</p>
+
+<p>"My nurse, my daughter, my all, Ernest; your gift to me,
+my son, which, thank <span class="smcap">God</span>! you have come in time to receive
+again from my hands. Take her to you, Ernest."</p>
+
+<p>The old man held Meeta's hand clasped in his own towards
+his son, and Ernest touched it, but so slightly and with a hand
+so cold, that Meeta looked up in alarm. There was a beseeching
+expression in the eyes that met hers; a look which she did
+not understand, and yet on which she acted.</p>
+
+<p>"Ernest," she said, "you are fatigued to death, and your
+father has been too much agitated already. Go, I pray you,
+for the present; I cannot leave your father, but you will
+find coffee and biscuits by the kitchen fire, and there is a bed
+prepared in your own room. Good-night; we shall meet
+again to-morrow," she added with a smile to the old man.</p>
+
+<p>Ernest gave her a more cordial glance and pressure of the
+hand than she had yet received from him; told his father that
+he would only snatch an hour's sleep and be with him again,
+and left the room.</p>
+
+<p>"Go with him, Meeta; you must have much to say."</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing that we cannot say as well to-morrow. And
+now you must take another sleeping draught, for I see Ernest
+has carried off all the effect of your last."</p>
+
+<p>Meeta spoke cheerfully, yet her heart was sad, she scarcely
+knew why. She would not think Ernest unkind, yet how different
+had been their meeting from that which fancy had so
+often sketched for her!</p>
+
+<p><a class='page' name ='Page_151' id='Page_151' title='151'>&nbsp;</a>Franz Rainer fell asleep, and again Meeta returned to the
+parlor. A lamp was still burning there, and by its dim light
+she saw the form of Ernest extended on a settee with his cloak
+and valise for his bed and pillow. At first she drew timidly
+back into the chamber, but as the slight noise she had made
+before perceiving him, had failed to disturb him, she felt assured
+that he slept soundly, and an irresistible desire arose in
+her heart to draw near him, and look at him more closely than
+she had yet ventured to do. She stood beside him; her heart
+bounded against the locket, his gift, which lay in its accustomed
+place, as she marked with a quick eye how the handsome
+but uncouth stripling had expanded into the man of
+noble proportions, whose features had, like her own, acquired
+a new character under the refining touch of intellect. Meeta
+looked on him till her eyes grew dim with tears pressed from a
+heart full of emotion, compounded of happy memories and
+glad hopes, shadowed by disappointment and saddened by
+doubt. Above all other feelings, however, rose the undying
+love which had "grown with her growth, and strengthened
+with her strength." Suddenly, by an irrepressible impulse, she
+laid her hand softly on the dark locks of waving hair which
+clustered over his broad brow, and breathed in low, tender accents,
+"My Ernest!"</p>
+
+<p>On leaving his father's room, Ernest had thrown himself
+on his hard couch, not to sleep, but to rest; and when slumber
+overpowered him, he had yielded to it unwillingly, and with
+the determination to be on the alert and ready to arise on the
+first summons. Sleep that comes thus, howsoever it may continue
+through other disturbing causes, rarely resists a touch, or
+the sound of our own name, and light as was Meeta's touch,
+and low as were her tones, Ernest was partially aroused by
+them. He stirred, and she would have retreated noiselessly
+from his side, but as his eyes unclosed, they fell upon her with<a class='page' name ='Page_152' id='Page_152' title='152'>&nbsp;</a>
+an expression of such rapturous love as she had never seen in
+them before, and in an instant he had encircled her form with
+his arm, and drawn her to his bosom. In glad surprise she
+rested there a moment; it was but a moment.</p>
+
+<p>"Sophie&mdash;my Sophie!" were the murmured words that
+met her ear, and gave her strength to burst from his embraces
+and glide rapidly, noiselessly back into the darkened chamber.
+There, sheltered by the darkness, she could see Ernest raise
+himself slowly up from his couch, look almost wildly around
+him, and then seemingly satisfied that he had only dreamed,
+sink back again to rest.</p>
+
+<p>A dream it had indeed been to him; a shadow of the
+night; to Meeta a dark cloud, in whose gloom she was henceforth
+to walk for ever. Hours of conversation could not so
+fully have revealed the truth to Meeta as those simple words:
+"Sophie&mdash;my Sophie!" uttered by Ernest in such a tone of
+heart-worship. Ernest loved with all the fond idolatry which
+she had thought of late belonged not to man's affections; but
+he loved another. Jealousy; the bitter consciousness of her
+own slighted love; the memory of his vows; the crushing
+thought that she was nothing to him now; that while he had
+been the life of her life, another had filled his thoughts and
+ruled his being, created a wild tempest in her soul. All was
+still around her. The sick man, the tired Ernest slept; and
+without, not even the rustling of a leaf disturbed the repose of
+Nature. She seemed to herself the only living thing in the
+universe; and to her, life was torture. An hour passed in this
+still concentrated agony, and she could endure it no longer;
+she must be up and doing; she would wake Ernest; she
+would tell him the revelation she had made; upbraid him with
+her blighted life, and leave him. Let him send for his Sophie;
+what did she, the outcast, the rejected, there in his house?&mdash;why
+should she nurse his father? She arose and approached<a class='page' name ='Page_153' id='Page_153' title='153'>&nbsp;</a>
+again the couch of Ernest; she was about to call to him, but
+she was arrested by the expression of agony in his face.
+His brow was contracted, and as she continued to gaze, low
+moans issued from his quivering lips. Ernest too was a
+sufferer; how that thought softened the hard, cold, icy crust
+that had been gathering around her heart! The bitterness of
+pride and jealousy gave place to tenderer emotions. Tears
+gathered in her eyes, and stealing softly back to her sheltered
+seat, she wept long and silently.</p>
+
+<p>"In sorrow the angels are near;" and Meeta's heart was
+now full of sorrow, not of anger. Sad must her life ever be,
+but what of that, if Ernest could be happy? Perhaps he suffered
+for her; the good, true Ernest. It might be that only in
+dreams he had told his love to Sophie, bound to silence, painful
+silence, by his vows to her. She then could make him happy,
+and was not that her first desire? If it were not, her love was a
+low, selfish, unworthy love, and she would pray that it might be
+purified. She did pray, not as she would have done an hour
+before, to be taken out of the world, but that she might be
+made meet to do the will of her <span class="smcap">Father</span> while in the world.
+She prayed for herself, for Ernest; and sweet peace stole into her
+heart, and before the morning light came, she had resolved not
+to leave the old man who loved her, during his few remaining
+days, yet not to keep Ernest in doubt of his own freedom.
+She was impatient that he should awake, and fell asleep imagining
+various modes of making her communication to him.
+Exhausted by mental agitation even more than by watching,
+she slept long and heavily. When she awoke, Ernest was
+shading the window at her side, through which the sun was
+shining brightly into the room. As she moved he looked at
+her kindly, and said:</p>
+
+<p>"I am afraid I awoke you, Meeta, when I meant only to
+prolong your sleep by shutting out this light."</p>
+
+<p><a class='page' name ='Page_154' id='Page_154' title='154'>&nbsp;</a>"I have slept long enough," was all that Meeta could say.
+The old Rainer was awake, and dreading above all things some
+allusions from him to the supposed relations of Ernest and
+herself, she hastened from the room and busied herself in the
+preparation of breakfast. Having seen that meal placed upon
+the table, she returned to the sick room and begged that Ernest
+would pour out his own coffee, while she did some things that
+were essential to his father's comfort. She lingered till Ernest
+came to see whether he could take her place, and then, as the
+old man slept peacefully, and she could make no further excuse,
+she accompanied him back to the table. The breakfast, a mere
+form to Meeta at least, proceeded in silence, or with only a
+casual remark from Ernest, scarcely heard by her, on the
+weather, the rapidity with which he had travelled, or his father's
+condition. Suddenly Meeta seemed to arouse herself as from a
+deep reverie:</p>
+
+<p>"Why do you not talk to me of Sophie?" she said,
+attempting to speak gayly, though one less embarrassed than
+Ernest could not have failed to note the tremulousness of her
+voice, and the quivering of the pallid lip which vainly strove to
+smile.</p>
+
+<p>But Meeta's agitation was as nothing to that of Ernest.
+For a moment he gazed upon her as though spell-bound, then
+dropping his face into his clasped hands, sat actually shivering
+before her. It was plain that Ernest had not lightly estimated
+his obligations to her. If he had sinned against them he had
+not despised them, and this conviction gave new strength to
+Meeta. She rose for the hour superior to every selfish emotion.
+Laying her hand upon his arm, she said, gently:</p>
+
+<p>"Be not so agitated, Ernest; can you not regard me as
+your friend, and talk to me as you did in old days of all that
+disturbs you; and why should you be disturbed at my speaking
+of&mdash;of your Sophie? You do not suppose that&mdash;you know that<a class='page' name ='Page_155' id='Page_155' title='155'>&nbsp;</a>&mdash;in
+short, Ernest, we cannot be expected to feel now as we
+did five years ago; but surely that need not prevent our being
+friends."</p>
+
+<p>Meeta had been herself too much confused of late, to remark
+her companion. When she now ventured with great effort to
+meet his eyes, she found them fixed upon her with an expression
+of lively admiration and grateful joy.</p>
+
+<p>"Meeta, dear Meeta!" he exclaimed, seizing her hand and
+kissing it. "You give me new life. I have been a miserable
+man for weeks past, torn by conflicting claims upon my heart
+and my honor. You had claims on both, Meeta; sacred claims,
+which I could never have asked you to forego; and so had
+Sophie, for though I resisted long, there came a moment of
+mad passion, of madder forgetfulness, in which, abandoning
+myself to the present, I sought and obtained an avowal of her
+love. It was scarcely over ere I felt the wrong I had done. I
+revealed that wrong to her; pity me, Meeta! I told her all&mdash;your
+claims, your worth. To you I resolved to be equally
+frank, and my only hope was in your generosity. But my
+father had never suffered me to doubt that your heart was still
+mine, and though I was assured that you would enable me to
+fulfil my obligations to Sophie, I feared, I mean, I could not
+hope, that it would be without any sacrifice; I mean without
+any regrets on your part."</p>
+
+<p>Ernest paused in some embarrassment; but Meeta could
+not speak, and he resumed:</p>
+
+<p>"You have made me perfectly happy, Meeta, which even
+Sophie could not have done, had I been compelled in devoting
+myself to her to relinquish the friend and sister of my childhood."</p>
+
+<p>"Always regard me thus, Ernest, as your friend and sister,
+and I shall be satisfied."</p>
+
+<p>Meeta had risen to return to the sick room, but Ernest
+caught her hand and held her back, while he said:</p>
+
+<p><a class='page' name ='Page_156' id='Page_156' title='156'>&nbsp;</a>"But you must see my Sophie, Meeta; you must know her
+and then you will love her too. She will be here soon with
+her sister, Mrs. Schwartz."</p>
+
+<p>"Mrs. Schwartz her sister? Then my last doubt is removed
+Ernest. She is worthy of you."</p>
+
+<p>"Worthy of me!" And Ernest would have run into all a
+lover's rhapsodies on this text, but Meeta had escaped from him.</p>
+
+<p>Hitherto Meeta's life had been one of quietness, of inaction,
+and now in a few short weeks ages of active existence seemed
+crowded. One object she had set before her as the great aim
+of her life; it was to secure Ernest's happiness and preserve his
+honor. She understood now the coldness with which her
+father had of late named him. It was essential to her peace
+that this coldness should not deepen into anger. Not even in
+her own family then must she have rest from the strife between
+her inner and her outer life. Sympathy she must not have,
+since sympathy with her was almost inseparably connected with
+reproach of Ernest. Time had another lesson to teach, and
+Meeta soon learned it; that in a combat such as she had to
+sustain, no half-way measures would suffice, that she must not
+drive her griefs down to the depths of her heart, shutting them
+there from every human eye, but she must drive them out of
+her heart. We talk of feigning cheerfulness, of wearing a mask
+for the world and throwing it off in solitude, and we may do
+this for a week, a month, a year, but those who have a life-grief
+to sustain, from whose hearts hope has died out, know that
+there are only two paths open to them in the universe; to lie
+down in their despair and breathe out their souls in murmurs
+against their <span class="smcap">God</span>, and lamentations over their destiny; or,
+humbly kissing the rod which has smitten them, to go forth
+out of themselves, where all is darkness and woe, and find a
+new and happier life in living for and in others. And thus did
+Meeta.</p>
+
+<p><a class='page' name ='Page_157' id='Page_157' title='157'>&nbsp;</a>We may not linger over the details of the next few weeks
+of her existence. The old Rainer died; died blessing his
+children, Ernest and Meeta, and praying for their happiness.
+Often would Ernest have told him all; but Meeta kept back a
+disclosure which would have given him pain. "Do not disturb
+him now, Ernest," she said; "he will know all soon, and bless
+your Sophie from heaven, where there is no sorrow."</p>
+
+<p>Meeta returned home, and exhaustion won for her a few
+days rest; rest even from her mental struggles; but when the
+funeral was over, and things returned to their usual routine, she
+felt that she must prepare her father and mother to receive
+Ernest in the character in which they were henceforth to regard
+him. She found strength for this in her lofty purpose and her
+simple dependence upon Heaven, and her voice did not falter
+nor her color change as she said to her mother:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Do you not think Ernest is much altered?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, he is greatly improved."</p>
+
+<p>"Improved! Well, he may be so to the eyes of others,
+but&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Is he not as tender to you, my daughter?" asked the sensitive
+mother.</p>
+
+<p>"That is not it," said Meeta, coloring for the first time:
+"we neither of us feel as we once did; it was a childish folly
+to suppose that we should. I have told Ernest that I could not
+fulfil our engagement, and he is satisfied."</p>
+
+<p>Madame Werner looked long at her daughter, but Meeta
+met the glance firmly.</p>
+
+<p>"And is this all, Meeta?"</p>
+
+<p>"All! What more would you have, dear mother?"</p>
+
+<p>"And are you happy, Meeta?"</p>
+
+<p>"Happier than I should be in marrying Ernest now, dear
+mother."</p>
+
+<p>Madame Werner explained all this to her husband, at her<a class='page' name ='Page_158' id='Page_158' title='158'>&nbsp;</a>
+daughter's request. He was not grieved at it. "Ernest," he
+said, "had never valued Meeta as she deserved. He was glad
+she had shown so much spirit."</p>
+
+<p>Meeta had a more difficult task to perform. Mrs. Schwartz's
+sister has come at last. She came from Germany at the same
+time with Ernest, but stopped to make a visit to another sister
+in Philadelphia, and arrived here only last night. "I will go
+and see her," said Meeta one morning to Madame Werner.
+She went. As she approached the house, there came through
+the open windows the sound of an organ, accompanied by a
+rich and highly cultivated voice. Meeta would not pause for a
+moment, lest she should grow nervous. It was essential to
+Ernest's happiness that Sophie should be friendly with her;
+and the difficulties were of a nature which, if not overcome at
+once, would not be overcome at all. Meeta entered the small
+parlor without knocking, and found herself <i>t&ecirc;te-&agrave;-t&ecirc;te</i> with the
+musician; a young, fair girl, delicately formed, with beautiful
+hands and arms, and pleasing, pretty face. As she saw the
+visitor, her song ceased. Meeta smiled on her, and extending
+her hand, said: "You are Sophie&mdash;Ernest's Sophie?"</p>
+
+<p>"And you," said the fair girl, with wondering eyes, "are&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Meeta."</p>
+
+<p>This was an introduction which admitted no formality, and
+when Mrs. Schwartz entered half an hour later, she was surprised
+to find those so lately strangers conversing in the low
+and earnest tones which betoken confidence, while the lofty expression
+on the countenance of the one, and the moist eyes and
+flushed cheeks of the other, showed that their topic was one of
+no ordinary interest.</p>
+
+<p>Six months passed rapidly away, and then Ernest felt that
+he might, without disrespect to his father's memory, bring
+home his bride. Their engagement had been known for some
+time, and had excited no little surprise; though perhaps less<a class='page' name ='Page_159' id='Page_159' title='159'>&nbsp;</a>
+than the continued and close friendship between them and
+Meeta. Many improvements in Sophie's future home had been
+suggested by Meeta's taste, and Ernest had acquired such a
+habit of consulting her, that no day passed without an interview
+between them. At length the evening preceding the
+bridal-day had arrived, and Ernest and Sophie had gone to secure
+Meeta's promise to officiate as bridesmaid in the simple
+ceremony of the morrow. They were to be married at the
+parsonage, in the presence of a few witnesses only, and were
+immediately to set out on an excursion which would occupy
+several weeks. They had urged Meeta to accompany them,
+but she had declined. "But she cannot refuse to stand up with
+me&mdash;do you think she can?" said Sophie to her sister, as she
+prepared to accompany Ernest to Carl Werner's.</p>
+
+<p>"I do not think she <i>will</i> refuse," Mrs. Schwartz replied.</p>
+
+<p>"You do not think she will!" repeated Mr. Schwartz, in
+an accent of surprise, to his wife, when Ernest and Sophie had
+left them. "How does that consist with your idea of Meeta's
+love for Ernest?"</p>
+
+<p>"It perfectly consists with a love like Meeta's; a love without
+any alloy of selfishness. Dear Meeta! how little is her
+nobleness appreciated! Even I dare not let her see that she is
+understood by me, lest I should wound her delicate and generous
+nature."</p>
+
+<p>There was a pause, and then Mr. Schwartz said, hesitatingly,
+"If it be as you think, Meeta is a noble being; but&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"If it be!" interrupted Mrs. Schwartz, with warmth. "Can
+you doubt it? Have you not seen the loftier character which
+her generous purpose has impressed upon her whole aspect?
+the elevation&mdash;I had almost said the inspiration, which beams
+from her face when Ernest and Sophia are present? Sophie is
+my sister, and I love her truly; yet I declare to you, at such
+times I have looked from her to Meeta, and wondered at what
+seemed to me Ernest's infatuation."</p>
+
+<p><a class='page' name ='Page_160' id='Page_160' title='160'>&nbsp;</a>"Sophie is fair, and delicate, and accomplished, the very
+personification of refinement, natural and acquired, and the antipodes
+of all which Ernest, ere he saw her, had begun to dread
+in the untaught Meeta of his memory. I am not surprised at
+all at his loving Sophie, but I cannot at all understand how the
+simple and single-hearted Meeta can feign so long and so well,
+as on your supposition she has done."</p>
+
+<p>"Feign! Meeta feign! I never said or thought such a
+thing. A course of action lofty as Meeta's must have its
+foundation deep in the heart, in principles enduring as life
+itself. Had Meeta's been the commonplace feigned satisfaction
+with Ernest's conduct to which pride might have given birth,
+she would have been fitful in her moods; alternately gay or
+gloomy; generous and kind, or petulant and exacting. The
+serenity, the composure of countenance and manner which distinguish
+our Meeta, spring from a higher, purer source. It
+is the sweet submission of a chastened, loving spirit, which
+can say to its <span class="smcap">Father</span> in Heaven:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table class='poem' border='0'><tr><td>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">'<span class="smcap">Because</span> my portion was assign'd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Wholesome and bitter, <span class="smcap">Thou</span> art kind,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And I am blessed to my mind.'"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+</td></tr></table></div>
+
+<p>"A state of feeling to be preferred certainly to the gratification
+of any earthly affection; but I scarcely see how it can
+accord with Meeta's continued love of Ernest."</p>
+
+<p>"That is because you do not separate love from the selfish
+desires with which it is too generally accompanied. Meeta
+loves Ernest so truly, so entirely, that she cannot be said to
+yield her happiness to his, but rather to find it in his; his joy,
+his honor, are hers."</p>
+
+<p>"And can woman feel thus?" asked Mr. Schwartz, as he
+looked with admiration upon his wife, her cheeks glowing<a class='page' name ='Page_161' id='Page_161' title='161'>&nbsp;</a>
+and her eyes lighted with the enthusiasm of a spirit akin
+to Meeta's.</p>
+
+<p>"There are many mysteries in woman which you have yet
+to fathom," said Mrs. Schwartz, with a smile.</p>
+
+<p>To the good pastor and his wife, the next day, even Sophie
+was a less interesting object of contemplation than Meeta, who
+stood at her side. She was pale, very pale, and dressed with
+even more than usual simplicity; yet there was in her face so
+much of the soul's light, that she seemed to them beautiful.
+Her congratulations were offered in speechless emotion. The
+brotherly kiss which Ernest pressed upon her cheek called up
+no color there, nor disturbed the graceful stillness of her manner;
+and when Sophie, who had really become sincerely attached
+to her, threw herself into her arms, she returned her
+embrace with tenderness, whispering as she did so, "Make
+Ernest happy, Sophie, and I will love you always!"</p>
+
+<p>And now what have we more to tell of Meeta? It cannot
+be denied that there were hours of darkness, in which the
+joyous hopes and memories of her youth rose up vividly before
+her, making her present life seem sad and lonely in contrast.
+But these visitors from the realm of shadows were neither
+evoked nor welcomed by Meeta. Resolutely she turned from
+the dead past, to the active, living present, determined that no
+shadow from her should darken the declining days of her
+father and mother. She is the light of their home, and often
+they bless the Providence which has left her with them.
+What would they have done without her cheerful voice to inspire
+them in bearing the burdens of advancing life?</p>
+
+<p>But not only in her home was Meeta a consolation and a
+blessing. The poor, the sick, the sorrowing, knew ever where
+to find true sympathy and ready aid. She was the "Lady
+Bountiful" of her neighborhood. But there was one house
+where more especially her presence was welcomed; where no<a class='page' name ='Page_162' id='Page_162' title='162'>&nbsp;</a>
+important step was taken without her advice; where sorrow
+was best soothed by her, and joy but half complete till she had
+shared it. This house was Ernest Rainer's. To him and Sophie
+she was a cherished sister, to whose upright and self-forgetting
+nature they looked up with a species of reverence; and to their
+children she was "Dear Aunt Meeta! the kindest and best
+friend, except mamma, in the world!"</p>
+
+<p>How many more useful, more noble, or happier persons
+than our old maid can married life present? Is she not more
+worthy of imitation than the "Celias" and "Daphnes" whose
+delicate distresses have formed the staple of circulating
+libraries, or than those feeble spirits in real life, who, mistaking
+selfishness for sensibility, turn thanklessly from the blessings and
+coldly from the duties of life, because they have been denied
+the gratification of some cherished desire?</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a class='page' name ='Page_163' id='Page_163' title='163'>&nbsp;</a><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a><a href="#CONTENTS">CHAPTER X.</a></h2>
+
+
+<p>It is Christmas, merry Christmas, as we have been duly informed
+this morning by every inhabitant of Donaldson Manor,
+from Col. Donaldson to the pet and baby Sophy Dudley, who
+was taught the words but yesterday, for the occasion. Last
+evening our readings were interrupted, for all were busy in
+preparing for this important day. Miss Donaldson was superintending
+jellies and blanc-manges, custards and Charlottes des
+Russes; Col. and Mrs. Donaldson were preparing gifts for their
+servants, not one of whom was forgotten, and Annie and I, and,
+by his own special request, Mr. Arlington, were arranging in
+proper order the gifts of that most considerate, mirthful and
+generous of spirits, Santa Claus. This morning the sun rose as
+clear and bright as though it, too, rejoiced in the joy of humanity;
+but long before the sun had showed himself, little feet
+were pattering from room to room, and childish voices shouting
+in the unchecked exuberance of delight. I sometimes doubt
+whether the children are so happy as I am, on such occasions.
+One incident that occurred this morning would have been
+enough, in my opinion, to repay all the time, the trouble, and
+the gold, which Santa Claus, or his agents, had expended on
+their preparations. Aroused by the voices of the children, I
+threw on a dressing-gown and hastened to the room appropriated
+to their patron saint, which I entered at one door just
+as little Eva Dudley appeared at another. Without being in<a class='page' name ='Page_164' id='Page_164' title='164'>&nbsp;</a>
+the least a beauty, Eva has the most charming face I know;
+merry and bright as Puck's, or as her own life, which from its
+earliest dawn has been joyous as a bird's carol. She gazed
+now with eager delight on the toys exhibited by her brothers
+and sisters, without, apparently, one thought of herself, till
+Robert said, "But see here, Eva, look at your own."</p>
+
+<p>As her eyes rested on the large baby-house, with its folding-doors
+open to display the furniture of the parlors, and the two
+dolls, mother and daughter, seated at a table on which stood a
+neat china breakfasting set, she clasped her dimpled hands in
+silent ecstasy for half a minute, then rising to her utmost
+height on her rosy little toes, she exclaimed, "Oh, isn't I a
+happy little woman!"</p>
+
+<p>Dear Eva! a little <i>girl's</i> heart would not have seemed to
+her large enough to contain such a rapture.</p>
+
+<p>Our party has been augmented since breakfast by the
+arrival of several families of Donaldsons&mdash;some of whom live
+at too great a distance for visits at any other time than Christmas,
+when all who stand in any conceivable, or I was about to
+say inconceivable, degree of relationship to the Donaldsons of
+Donaldson Manor, are expected to be here. Among this host
+of uncles and aunts and cousins, I was really grateful for my
+own prefix of aunt, and I heard Mr. Arlington whisper a
+request to Robert to call him uncle&mdash;a title to which I have no
+doubt he would willingly make good his claim.</p>
+
+<p>In the midst of this general hilarity, the religious character
+of the day was not forgotten, and all the family and some of
+the visitors attended the morning services in the church. We
+know that there are those who, doubting the testimony on
+which the Christian world has agreed to observe the 25th of
+December as the birthday into our mortal life of the world's
+Saviour, and the era from which man may date his hopes of a
+happy immortality, consider the religious observances of this day<a class='page' name ='Page_165' id='Page_165' title='165'>&nbsp;</a>
+a sheer superstition. On such a controversy I could say but little,
+and I should be very unwilling so say that little here; but I would
+ask if it can be wrong in the opinion of any&mdash;nay, if it be not
+right, very right, in the opinion of all&mdash;to celebrate once in the
+year an event so solemn and so joyous to our race; and whether
+any day can be better for such a purpose, than that which has
+been for centuries associated with it wherever the Angel's song
+of "Peace on earth and good will to man" has been heard?
+Another class of objectors there are who complain that a day so
+sacred should be desecrated, as they express it, by revelry and
+mirth. To their objection I should not have a word of reply,
+if it were limited to a condemnation of that wild uproar and
+senseless jollity by which men sometimes make fools or brutes
+of themselves; but when they condemn the cheerfulness that
+has its home and its birthplace in a grateful heart, when they
+frown upon the happy family gathering once more within the
+old walls that had echoed to their childish gambols, calling up
+by the spells of association, from the dim recesses of the past,
+the very tones and looks of the mother that watched their
+cradled sleep, and the father that guided their first tottering
+steps in the pursuit of truth; tones and looks by which, if by
+any thing, the cold, selfish spirit of the world to whose dominion
+they have yielded, may be exorcised, and the loving and
+generous spirit of their earlier life may again enter within them;
+when they declare these things inconsistent with the Christian's
+joyful commemoration of that event to which he owes his
+earthly blessings as well as his heavenly hopes. I can only
+pity them for their want of harmony with the Great Spirit of
+the Universe, the spirit of Love and Joy.</p>
+
+<p>Our Christmas was continued and concluded in the same
+spirit in which it was commenced&mdash;the spirit of kindly affection
+to Man and devout gratitude to Heaven. Those guests whose
+homes were distant remained for the night, and in the evening,<a class='page' name ='Page_166' id='Page_166' title='166'>&nbsp;</a>
+before any of our party had left us, Col. Donaldson called on
+Robert Dudley to repeat a poem winch he had learned at his
+request for the occasion. Robert was a little abashed at first
+at being brought forward so conspicuously; but he is a manly,
+intelligent boy, and his voice soon gathered strength and
+firmness, and his eyes lost their downward tendency, and
+kindled with earnest feeling, as he recited those beautiful lines
+of Charles Sprague, entitled&mdash;</p>
+
+
+<h3><a name="THE_FAMILY_MEETING" id="THE_FAMILY_MEETING"></a><a href="#CONTENTS">THE FAMILY MEETING.</a></h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table class='poem' border='0'><tr><td>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">We are all here!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Father, mother,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Sister, brother,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All who hold each other dear.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Each chair is fill'd, we're all at home,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To-night let no cold stranger come;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It is not often thus around<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Our own familiar hearth we're found.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Bless, then, the meeting and the spot;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For once be every care forgot;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Let gentle Peace assert her power,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And kind affection rule the hour;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">We're all&mdash;all here.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">We're <span class="smcap">not</span> all here!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Some are away&mdash;the dead ones dear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who throng'd with us this ancient hearth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And gave the hour to guiltless mirth.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fate, with a stern, relentless hand,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Look'd in and thinn'd our little band:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Some like a night-flash pass'd away,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And some sank, lingering, day by day;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The quiet grave-yard&mdash;some lie there&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And cruel Ocean has his share&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">We're <i>not</i> all here.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2"><a class='page' name ='Page_167' id='Page_167' title='167'>&nbsp;</a>We <i>are</i> all here!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Even they&mdash;the dead&mdash;though dead so dear.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fond Memory, to her duty true,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Brings back their faded forms to view.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">How life-like, through the mist of years,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Each well-remember'd face appears!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We see them as in times long past,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From each to each kind looks are cast,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We hear their words, their smiles behold,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">They're round us as they were of old&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">We <i>are</i> all here.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i2">We are all here!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Father, mother,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Sister, brother,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">You that I love with love so dear.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">This may not long of us be said,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Soon must we join the gather'd dead,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And by the hearth we now sit round<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Some other circle will be found.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Oh, then, that wisdom may we know,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which yields a life of peace below!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">So, in the world to follow this,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">May each repeat, in words of bliss.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">We're all&mdash;all <i>here</i>!<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+</td></tr></table></div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a class='page' name ='Page_168' id='Page_168' title='168'>&nbsp;</a><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a><a href="#CONTENTS">CHAPTER XI.</a></h2>
+
+
+<p>Yesterday we were more than usually still after the enjoyment
+of Christmas, and a little quiet chit-chat seemed all of
+which we were capable, but to-day every thing about us and
+within us began to settle into its usual form, and this evening
+there was a general call for our accustomed entertainment. I
+was inexorable to all entreaties, and Mr. Arlington was compelled
+to open his portfolio for our gratification.</p>
+
+<p>"Select your subject," he said with a smile, as he drew forth
+sketch after sketch and spread them on the table before us. "I
+have no story to tell of any of them."</p>
+
+<p>"I select this," said Annie, as she held up a drawing, entitled,
+"The Exiled Hebrews."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah!" said Mr. Arlington, as he glanced at it, "you have
+chosen well; the subject is interesting."</p>
+
+<p>"But can you really tell us nothing of these figures, so noble
+yet so touching in their aspect?"</p>
+
+<p>"No; nothing of <i>them</i>. I could tell you indeed of a <i>dying</i>
+Hebrew, whose portrait you may imagine you have before you
+in that turbaned old gentleman."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, let us hear it."</p>
+
+
+<h3><a class='page' name ='Page_169' id='Page_169' title='169'>&nbsp;</a><a name="THE_DYING_HEBREW" id="THE_DYING_HEBREW"></a><a href="#CONTENTS">THE DYING HEBREW.</a></h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table class='poem' border='0'><tr><td>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">A <span class="smcap">Hebrew</span> knelt in the dying light,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His eye was dim and cold,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The hair on his brow was silver white,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And his blood was thin and old.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He lifted his eye to his latest sun,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For he felt that his pilgrimage was done,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And as he saw God's shadow<a name="FNanchor_3_3" id="FNanchor_3_3"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</a> there,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His spirit pour'd itself in prayer.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"I come unto Death's second birth<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Beneath a stranger air,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A pilgrim on a chill, cold earth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As all my fathers were;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And <i>men</i> have stamp'd me with a <i>curse</i>,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I feel it is not <i>Thine</i>.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thy mercy, like yon sun, was made<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On me, as all to shine;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And therefore dare I lift mine eye<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Through that to Thee, before I die.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In this great temple, built by Thee,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whose altars are divine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Beneath yon lamp that ceaselessly<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lights up Thine own true shrine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Take this my latest sacrifice,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Look down and make this sod<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Holy as that where long ago<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Hebrew met his God.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I have not caused the widow's tears,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor dimm'd the orphan's eye,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I have not stain'd the virgin's years,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nor mock'd the mourner's cry.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The songs of Zion in my ear<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Have ever been most sweet,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And always when I felt Thee near,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My shoes were 'off my feet.'<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0"><a class='page' name ='Page_170' id='Page_170' title='170'>&nbsp;</a>I have known Thee in the whirlwind,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I have known Thee on the hill,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I have known Thee in the voice of birds,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In the music of the rill.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I dreamt Thee in the shadow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I saw Thee in the light,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I heard Thee in the thunder-peal,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And worshipp'd in the night.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All beauty, while it spoke of Thee,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Still made my heart rejoice,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And my spirit bow'd within itself<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To hear 'Thy still, small voice.'<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I have not felt myself a thing<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Far from Thy presence driven,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">By flaming sword or waving wing<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Cut off from Thee and heaven.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Must I the whirlwind reap, because,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My fathers sow'd the storm?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or shrink because another sinn'd,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Beneath Thy red, right arm?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Oh! much of this we dimly scan,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And much is all unknown,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I will not take my <i>curse</i> from <i>man</i>,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I turn to <span class="smcap">Thee</span> alone.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Oh! bid my fainting spirit live,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And what is dark, reveal,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And what is evil&mdash;oh, forgive!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And what is broken&mdash;heal.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And cleanse my spirit from above,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In the deep Jordan of Thy love!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I know not if the Christian's heaven<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shall be the same as mine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I only ask to be forgiven,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And taken home to <span class="smcap">Thine</span>.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I weary on a far, dim strand,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Whose mansions are as tombs,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And long to find the Father-land,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where there are many homes.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Oh! grant of all yon shining throngs<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Some dim and distant star,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where Judah's lost and scatter'd sons<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">May worship from afar!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0"><a class='page' name ='Page_171' id='Page_171' title='171'>&nbsp;</a>When all earth's myriad harps shall meet<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In choral praise and prayer,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shall Zion's harp, of old so sweet,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Alone be wanting there?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet place me in the lowest seat,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Though I, as now, lie there,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Christian's jest&mdash;the Christian's scorn,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Still let me see and hear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From some bright mansion in the sky,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thy loved ones and their melody."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The sun goes down with sudden gleam,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And beautiful as a lovely dream,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And silently as air,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The vision of a dark-eyed girl<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With long and raven hair,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Glides in as guardian spirits glide,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And lo! is standing by his side,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As if her sudden presence there<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Was sent in answer to his prayer.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Oh! say they not that angels tread<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Around the good man's dying bed?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His child&mdash;his sweet and sinless child,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And as he gazed on her,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He knew his God was reconciled,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And this the messenger.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As sure as God had hung on high<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His promise-bow before his eye,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Earth's purest hopes were o'er him flung,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To point his heaven-ward faith,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And life's most holy feelings strung<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To sing him into death.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And on his daughter's stainless breast,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The dying Hebrew sought his rest.<a name="FNanchor_4_4" id="FNanchor_4_4"></a><a href="#Footnote_4_4" class="fnanchor">[4]</a><br /></span>
+</div></div>
+</td></tr></table></div>
+
+<p>"Have I fulfilled my task?" asked Mr. Arlington, as he
+touched the picture on which Annie's eyes were still fixed.</p>
+
+<p><a class='page' name ='Page_172' id='Page_172' title='172'>&nbsp;</a>"By no means," she answered; "the poem is beautiful; but
+is the drawing from your own pencil?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, no! It is a copy of a copy. The original is by
+Biederrmanns, and may be seen, I believe, in the Dresden Gallery.
+This sketch was made from a copy in the possession of
+my friend, Mr. Michael Grahame. He had it done while he
+was in Russia. By-the-by&mdash;if I had Aunt Nancy's powers as
+a <i>raconteur</i>, I think I could interest you in the history of Mr.
+and Mrs. Grahame."</p>
+
+<p>"Let us have it," exclaimed Col. Donaldson; "we will be
+lenient in our criticisms; and should we ever call on you to
+give it to severer critics, Aunt Nancy will dress it up for you."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Arlington in vain sought to excuse himself.</p>
+
+<p>"It is of no use," cried Col. Donaldson; "I am a thoroughbred
+story hunter, and now you have shown me the game, I
+must have it."</p>
+
+<p>To Mr. Arlington, therefore, the reader is indebted for the
+following incidents, though I have fulfilled the promise made
+for me by the Colonel, and dressed it up a little for its present
+appearance. I have called the narrative thus prepared,</p>
+
+
+<h3><a name="ONLY_A_MECHANIC" id="ONLY_A_MECHANIC"></a><a href="#CONTENTS">"ONLY A MECHANIC."</a></h3>
+
+<p>With beauty, wealth, an accomplished education, and a home
+around which clustered all the warm affections and graceful
+amenities of life, Lilian Devoe was considered by her acquaintances
+as one of fortune's most favored children. Yet in Lilian's
+bright sky there was a cloud, though it was perceptible to none
+but herself. She was the daughter of an Englishman, who, on
+his arrival in America with a sickly wife and infant child, had
+esteemed himself fortunate in obtaining the situation of farm-steward,
+or bailiff, at Mr. Trevanion's country-seat, near New-York.</p>
+
+<p><a class='page' name ='Page_173' id='Page_173' title='173'>&nbsp;</a>"This is a pleasant home, Gerald," said Mrs. Devoe, on the
+day she took possession of her small but neat cottage, as she
+stood with him beneath a porch embowered with honey-suckle,
+and looked out upon a scene to which hill and dale and river
+combined to give enchantment.</p>
+
+<p>"If you can be well and happy in it, love, I will try and forget
+that I had a right to a better," said Gerald Devoe, with a grave
+yet tender smile, as he drew his invalid wife close to his side.</p>
+
+<p>Grave, Gerald Devoe always was; and none wondered at it
+who knew his early history. His family belonged to the gentry
+of England, and he had been born to an inheritance sufficient
+to support him respectably in that class. His mother, from
+whom he derived a sound judgment, and a firm and vigorous
+mind, died while he was yet a child, leaving his weak and self-indulgent
+father to the management of a roguish attorney, by
+whose aid he made the future maintain the present, till, at his
+death, little was left to Gerald beyond the bare walls of his
+paternal home and the small park by which it was surrounded.
+He had been, for two years before this time, married to one
+who had brought him little wealth, and whose delicate health
+seemed to demand the luxuries which he could no longer
+afford. For her sake, far more than for his own&mdash;even more
+than for that of his cherished child&mdash;he shrank from the new
+condition under which life was presenting itself to him. When
+at length his resources utterly failed, and he could no longer
+veil the truth from his wife, her gentle tender smile, her confiding
+caress, and above all, her ready inquiry into his plans for
+the future, and her earnest effort to aid him in bringing the
+chaos of his mind into order, taught him that there lies in
+woman's affections a source of strength equal to all the requirements
+of those who have won their way to that hidden fountain.
+It was by her advice that, instead of wasting his energies
+in the vain struggle to maintain his present position, he deter<a class='page' name ='Page_174' id='Page_174' title='174'>&nbsp;</a>mined
+to carve out for himself a new life in another land. The
+first step towards the fulfilment of this resolution was also the
+most painful. It was the sacrifice of his home, the home of his
+childhood, his youth, his manhood, with which all that was
+dear in the present or tender in the past was associated. And
+yet higher claims it had. It had been the home of his fathers.
+For three hundred years those walls had owned a Devoe for
+their master, and now they must pass into a stranger's hands,
+and he and his must go forth with no right even to a grave in
+that soil which had seemed ever an inalienable part of himself.
+It was a stern lesson, but life teaches well, and it was learned.
+He could not turn to the liberal professions for support, because
+he had no means of maintaining himself and his family during
+the preparatory studies. Of farming he knew already something,
+and spent some months in acquiring yet further information
+respecting it, before he sailed from England. The determination
+and energy with which Gerald Devoe had entered on
+his new career, had won for him friends among practical men,
+and when he left England it was with recommendations that
+insured his success.</p>
+
+<p>It was a fortunate circumstance for Mr. and Mrs. Devoe that
+Mr. Trevanion required a farm-steward on their arrival, for in
+him and his wife they found liberal employers, and persons of
+true Christian benevolence, who, having discovered the superiority
+of their minds and manners to their present station, hesitated
+not to receive them into their circle of friends, when a
+knowledge of their past history had acquainted them with their
+claims on their sympathy. Howsoever valuable the friendship
+of persons at once so accomplished and so excellent was to Mr.
+and Mrs. Devoe, for their own sakes, they prized it yet more
+for their Lilian's. She was their only child, and their poverty
+lost its last sting when they saw her linked arm in arm with
+young Anna Trevanion, the companion of her lessons and her<a class='page' name ='Page_175' id='Page_175' title='175'>&nbsp;</a>
+sports. They could not have borne to see her, so lovely in
+outward form, and with a mind so full of intelligence, condemned
+either to the dreariness of a life without companionship,
+or to the degradation of association with the rude and
+uncultivated. That this feeling was wholly unconnected with
+any false views of their own position, or vain estimation of the
+claims derived from their birth and former condition, was evident
+from their readiness to receive into their friendly regards
+those in their present sphere in whose moral qualities they
+could confide, and who did not repel their courtesies by a rude
+and coarse manner. There was one of this latter class who
+held a place in their esteem not less exalted than that occupied
+by Mr. Trevanion himself. This was a Scotchman, living within
+two miles of Mr. Trevanion's seat, who found at once an agreeable
+occupation and a respectable support in a garden, from
+which he supplied the markets of New-York with some of their
+choicest vegetables, and its drawing-rooms with some of their
+choicest bouquets. Mr. Grahame was one who, in those early
+ages when physical endowments constituted the chief distinction
+between men, might have been chosen king of the tribe
+with which he had chanced to be associated. Even now, in
+this self-styled enlightened age, his tall and stalwart frame, his
+erect carriage, his firm and vigorous step, his broad, commanding
+brow, his bright, keen eye, and the firm, frank expression
+of his whole face, won from every beholder an involuntary
+feeling of respect, which further acquaintance only served to
+deepen. With little of the education of schools, he was a man
+of reading, and, what schools can never make, he was a man
+of thought, and of that sober, practical good sense, and those
+firm, religious principles which are the surest, the only true and
+safe guides in life. Mrs. Grahame was a gentle and lovely
+woman, with an eye to see and a heart to feel her husband's
+excellences. And a worthy son of such a father was Michael<a class='page' name ='Page_176' id='Page_176' title='176'>&nbsp;</a>
+Grahame, the only child of this excellent pair. He was six
+years older than Lilian Devoe, and having no sister of his own,
+had been her playfellow and protector from her cradle. Even
+Anna Trevanion could not rival Michael in Lilian's heart, nor
+all the luxuries of Trevanion Hall compete with the delight of
+wandering with him through the gardens of Mossgiel, listening
+to his history of the various plants&mdash;for Michael had learned
+from his father where most of them had first been found, and
+how and by whom they had been introduced to their present
+abodes&mdash;and learning from him the chief points of distinction
+between the different tribes of the vegetable world, and many
+other things of which older people are often ignorant. But
+acquainted as Michael was with the inhabitants of the garden,
+they did not afford him his most vivid enjoyment. Mechanical
+pursuits were his passion.</p>
+
+<p>Before Lilian was four years old, she had ridden in a carriage
+of his construction, which he boasted the most unskilful
+hand on the most unequal road could not, except from <i>malice
+prepense</i>, upset. To see Michael a clergyman, or, if that might
+not be, a lawyer, was Mrs. Grahame's dream of life; but when
+she whispered it to her husband, he shook his head, with a
+grave smile, and pointed to the boy, who stood near, putting
+the finishing touch to what he called his "magical glass."
+This was the case of an old spy-glass, in which he had so disposed
+several mirrors, made of a toilet-glass long since broken,
+as to enable the person using the instrument to see objects in a
+very different direction from that to which it appeared to be
+directed. The fond parents watched his movements in silence
+for a few minutes: suddenly he called in a glad voice, "Here,
+father, come and look through my magical glass."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Grahame obeyed the summons, saying to his wife,
+"He'll make a good mechanic&mdash;better not spoil that, for a poor
+clergyman or lawyer."</p>
+
+<p><a class='page' name ='Page_177' id='Page_177' title='177'>&nbsp;</a>Michael had the advantage of the best schools to which his
+father could gain access; and his teachers joined in declaring
+that his father might make what he would of him, but his own
+inclination for mechanics continued as fixed as ever, and Mr.
+Grahame was equally fixed in his determination to let his inclination
+decide his career.</p>
+
+<p>"Let him be what he will, he must be something above the
+ordinary, or your high people will remember against him that
+his father was a gardener," said Mr. Grahame to his wife; "and
+you may be sure he'll rise highest in what he loves."</p>
+
+<p>At sixteen Michael Grahame commenced his apprenticeship
+to the trade of a mathematical instrument maker, to the perfect
+satisfaction of himself and his father, the secret annoyance of
+his mother, and the openly expressed chagrin of Lilian Devoe,
+who had shared all Mrs. Grahame's ambitious hopes for her
+friend. From this period Lilian became the inseparable companion
+of the young Trevanions, their only rival in her heart
+being removed from her circle. She still considered Michael as
+greatly superior to them, and indeed to all others, in personal
+attributes, but she could seldom enjoy his society, since he
+resided in the city; and as she approached to womanhood, and
+he exchanged the vivacity of the boy for the man's thoughtful
+brow and more controlled expression of feeling, their manner in
+their occasional interviews assumed a formality which made it
+a poor interpreter of her heart's true emotions.</p>
+
+<p>At seventeen Lilian Devoe was an orphan, left to the guardianship
+of Mr. Trevanion and Mr. Grahame, with a fortune
+which secured to her a prospect of all the comforts, and many
+of the elegancies of life. This fortune was the result of a successful
+speculation made by Mr. Devoe about a year before his
+death, with the little sum, which, by judicious management,
+he had saved from his salary during many years. It was a
+sum too small to secure to his daughter a maintenance in case<a class='page' name ='Page_178' id='Page_178' title='178'>&nbsp;</a>
+of his death, and with a trembling and almost despairing heart
+he had thrown it on the troubled sea of speculation. From
+that hour he knew no peace. His life was probably shortened
+by his anxieties, and when he received the assurance of the
+successful issue of his experiment, he had but a few days to
+live. Before his death, Mr. Trevanion had spoken very kindly
+to him, and both he and Mrs. Trevanion had expressed the most
+friendly interest in Lilian, and had offered to receive her as a
+member of their own family, when her "home should be left
+unto her desolate." Mr. Grahame and his kind-hearted wife
+had already made the same offer, and Mr. Devoe, with the
+warmest expression of gratitude, commended his daughter to
+the guardianship of both his friends. It was winter when Mr.
+Devoe died&mdash;the Trevanions were in the city, and, by her own
+wish, Lilian passed the first few months of her orphanage at the
+cottage of Mr. Grahame. Never was an orphan more tenderly
+received, more dearly cherished.</p>
+
+<p>Michael Grahame had now acquired his trade, and had entered
+into an already established and profitable business with
+his former master, who predicted that with his application, and
+his unusual talent and his delight both in the theory of mechanics
+and the actual development of that theory in practice,
+he must one day acquire a high reputation. Perhaps this
+opinion might have been in some degree shaken by the long
+and frequent holidays of his young partner during this winter.
+Michael had never been so much at home since he left it, a boy
+of sixteen, and before the winter had passed, all formality between
+him and Lilian had vanished. Again they wandered
+together, as in childhood, through the garden walks; again
+Lilian learned to regard him, not only as a loved friend, but
+as a guide and protector.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Grahame saw the growth of these feelings with delight.
+She loved Lilian, and gave the highest proof of her<a class='page' name ='Page_179' id='Page_179' title='179'>&nbsp;</a>
+esteem for her, in believing her worthy of her son. Mr.
+Grahame was less satisfied. He, too, loved Lilian, and would
+have welcomed her to his heart as a daughter, but her lately
+acquired fortune, and her connection with the Trevanion family,
+gave her a right to higher expectations in marriage, than to
+become the wife of a mechanic of very moderate fortunes, howsoever
+great was his ability, or howsoever distinguished his
+personal qualities. No&mdash;Mr. Grahame was not satisfied, and
+nothing but his confidence in Michael kept him silent. The
+confidence was not misplaced.</p>
+
+<p>The news of Lilian's fortune, and of Mr. and Mrs. Trevanion's
+offer to receive her into their family, had sent a sharp
+pang through the heart of Michael Grahame, which had taught
+him the true character of his attachment to her.</p>
+
+<p>"She is removed from my world&mdash;she can be nothing to
+me now," was the first stern whisper of his heart, which was
+modified after two or three interviews into&mdash;"She can only be
+a dear friend and sister. I must never think of her in any
+other light." And, devoted as he had been to her through
+the winter, no word, no look had told of love less calm or more
+exacting than this. But there came a time when the quick
+blush on Lilian's cheek at his approach, the tremor of her little
+hand as he clasped it, told that she shared his feeling, without
+his power of self-control. Then came the hour of trial to
+Michael Grahame's nature. Self-immolation were easy in comparison
+with the infliction of one pang on her. And wherefore
+should either suffer? Was it not a false sentiment that denied
+to her the right to decide for herself, between those shows and
+fashions which the world most prizes, and the indulgence of
+the purest and sweetest affections of our nature? Was he
+not in truth sacrificing her happiness to his own pride? It
+was a question which he dared not answer for himself, and he
+applied to his father, in whose high principles and clear judg<a class='page' name ='Page_180' id='Page_180' title='180'>&nbsp;</a>ment
+he placed implicit confidence. Mr. Grahame was too
+shrewd, and in this case too interested an observer to be unprepared
+for his son's avowal of his past feelings and present
+perplexities.</p>
+
+<p>"You are right, my son," he replied to his appeal; "It is
+Lilian's right to decide for herself on that which will constitute
+her own happiness."</p>
+
+<p>"Then I may speak to her&mdash;I may tell her&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"All you desire that she should know," said Mr. Grahame,
+gently, "when Lilian has had an opportunity of knowing what
+she must sacrifice in accepting you."</p>
+
+<p>"True&mdash;true&mdash;I will ask no promise from her&mdash;nay&mdash;I will
+accept none&mdash;I will only assure her that should the world fail
+to fill her heart, the truest and most devoted love awaits her
+here."</p>
+
+<p>"And in listening to that assurance, without rebuking it, a
+delicate woman would feel that she had pledged herself."</p>
+
+<p>Michael Grahame's brow contracted, and his voice faltered
+slightly as, after a moment's thoughtful pause, he asked, "What
+then would you have me do?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing at present&mdash;Lilian will soon leave us, and at Mr.
+Trevanion's she will see quite another kind of life&mdash;a life which,
+with her fortune and their friendship, may be hers, but which
+she must give up should she become the wife of a mechanic
+and the daughter-in-law of a gardener. Let her see this life,
+my boy, and then let her choose between you and it."</p>
+
+<p>"And how can I hope that she will continue to regard me
+with kindness if I suffer her to depart without any expression
+of interest in her?"</p>
+
+<p>"Any expression of interest! I do not wish you to be colder
+to her than you have hitherto been, and I am much mistaken
+if Lilian would exchange your <i>brotherly</i> affection for all the
+gewgaws in life."</p>
+
+<p><a class='page' name ='Page_181' id='Page_181' title='181'>&nbsp;</a>"I will endeavor to take your advice, but I hope I shall not
+be tried too long," were the concluding words of Michael
+Grahame, as he turned from his father to seek composure in a
+solitary walk. When he had returned, he found that his
+father had gone to the city&mdash;an unusual circumstance at that
+season, and one which he could not afterwards avoid connecting
+with a letter which Lilian received the next day from Anna
+Trevanion, before she had risen from the breakfast table.</p>
+
+<p>"Papa," wrote Miss Trevanion, "has made me perfectly
+happy, dear Lilian, by declaring that he cannot consent to leave
+you longer in the country. I hope you will not find it very
+difficult to obey his commands in the present instance, which
+are, that you shall be ready at noon to-morrow to accompany
+him to the city, where you will find Mamma and your Anna,
+waiting to receive you with open arms."</p>
+
+<p>"What is the matter, Lilian? Does your letter bring you
+bad news?" asked Mrs. Grahame, as she saw the dejected countenance
+with which Lilian sat gazing on these few lines.</p>
+
+<p>Michael said nothing, but, as Lilian looked up to answer
+Mrs. Grahame, she saw that his eyes were fixed upon her, and
+the blood rushed to her temples, while she said, "It is only a
+note from Anna Trevanion, to say that her father is coming
+for me to-day at noon,&mdash;and&mdash;and&mdash;" Lilian could go no farther&mdash;her
+voice faltered, and she burst into tears. Michael
+Grahame started from his chair, but a movement of his father's
+arm prevented his approaching Lilian, and unable to endure
+the scene, he rushed from the room, while his mother, folding
+the weeping girl in her arms, exclaimed, "Don't cry, Lilian, Mr.
+Trevanion will not certainly make you go with him, if you do
+not wish it."</p>
+
+<p>"Hush, hush, good wife," said the kind but firm voice of
+Mr. Grahame; "Lilian must not be so ungracious to such
+friends as Mr. and Mrs. Trevanion, as to refuse to go to them<a class='page' name ='Page_182' id='Page_182' title='182'>&nbsp;</a>
+when they wish her. Go, my dear child," he continued, laying
+his hand on her bent head; "and remember that no day will
+be so happy for us as that in which you come back&mdash;if indeed,"
+he added, more gayly, "you can come back to such an humble
+home, after living among great folks."</p>
+
+<p>There was another voice for which Lilian listened, but she
+listened in vain. Her first feeling on perceiving that Michael
+Grahame had left the room while she lay weeping in his mother's
+arms was very bitter, but Mrs. Grahame soothed her by
+saying, "Michael couldn't bear to see you crying, dear, so
+when his father wouldn't let him speak to you, he jumped up
+and ran off. Poor Michael! sadly enough he'll miss you."</p>
+
+<p>In about an hour, Michael again sought Lilian, bringing
+with him three bouquets of hot-house flowers. Two of these
+had been arranged by his father for Mrs. and Miss Trevanion,
+and the other was of flowers which he had himself selected for
+Lilian. She stood beside him while he first wrapped the stems
+of the flowers in a wet sponge, and then put them into a box,
+to defend them from the cold. This was done, and the box
+handed to Lilian without a word. As she took it, she asked in
+a low tone, and turning away to hide her embarrassment as
+she spoke, "When shall I see you in New-York?"</p>
+
+<p>"I shall be in New-York very soon," he replied; "perhaps
+to-morrow&mdash;but we move there in such different spheres, Lilian,
+that I do not know when we shall meet."</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps never," said Lilian, endeavoring, not very successfully,
+to steady her voice and speak with <i>nonchalance</i>, "unless
+you are willing to leave what you call your sphere and seek
+me in mine."</p>
+
+<p>"I only need your permission to do so with delight,"&mdash;and
+so charming had her evident emotion made her in his eyes,
+that Michael could not refrain from pressing her hand to his
+lips. There was no anger in the flush which this action brought
+to Lilian's cheek.</p>
+
+<p><a class='page' name ='Page_183' id='Page_183' title='183'>&nbsp;</a>Mr. Trevanion was punctual to the hour of his appointment,
+and descended from his carriage only to hand Lilian into it.</p>
+
+<p>"You will call sometimes to see how your ward does," he
+said good-humoredly to the elder Mr. Grahame, but to Michael
+not a word. He had determined to discourage, and, if possible,
+completely to overthrow any intimacy which Mr. Grahame had
+acknowledged to him was not unattended with danger. Mr.
+Trevanion was a man of liberal mind, yet he was not wholly
+free from the prejudices of his class, which made the highest
+happiness the result of the highest social position. There is in
+the mind of man so unconquerable a desire for the unattainable,
+that it is not wonderful perhaps that this opinion should be entertained
+by those who do not occupy that position; but to
+those who do, we should suppose its fallacy would stand out too
+glaringly to be doubted or denied. We are far from denying
+the advantages of rank and wealth: but we view them not as
+an end, but as a means for the attainment of an end, and that
+end, not happiness, except as happiness is indissolubly connected
+with the perfection of our own powers, and with the extension
+of our usefulness to others. He who, like Michael Grahame,
+can command the means of intellectual cultivation and refinement,
+and a fair arena for the exercise of his powers, when thus
+cultivated, need not envy the possessor of larger fortune and
+higher station with his weightier responsibilities and greater
+temptations.</p>
+
+<p>Michael Grahame understood Mr. Trevanion's coolness, but
+he was not one to retreat from an unfought field. Three days
+had scarcely given to Lilian the feeling of ease in her new home,
+when he called on her. He had chosen morning, as the hour
+when others would be the least likely to dispute her attention with
+him. She was at home&mdash;Mrs. and Miss Trevanion were out&mdash;and
+a long <i>t&ecirc;te-&agrave;-t&ecirc;te</i> almost reconciled him to her new abode.
+He had not forgotten his father's advice, nor taken the seal from<a class='page' name ='Page_184' id='Page_184' title='184'>&nbsp;</a>
+his lips. He might not speak to her of love, but the nicest
+honor did not forbid him to show her the true sympathy and
+affection of a friend. In a few days he called again, and at the
+same hour; Miss Devoe was not at home, she had gone out
+with Mrs. and Miss Trevanion. Again the next day he came
+at the same hour, and the answer was the same. He called
+in the afternoon at five o'clock, and she was at dinner; at seven
+o'clock, she was preparing for an evening party, and begged he
+would excuse her. "I will seek no more," said Michael Grahame
+at length, with proud determination, "to enter the charmed
+circle which shuts her from me in the city. They cannot
+keep her to themselves always, and if Lilian's heart be what I
+deem it, it will take more than a few months of absence to efface
+from it the memories of years."</p>
+
+<p>A few days only after this determination, Lilian was called
+down at nine o'clock in the morning, to see Mr. Grahame.
+Early as it was, the furtive glance towards her mirror and the
+hasty adjustment of her ringlets, might have suggested to an
+observer, that she hoped to receive in her visitor one who had
+an eye for beauty; and the sudden change that passed over her
+countenance as she entered the parlor in which her two guardians
+sat in earnest talk, would have awakened strong suspicions
+that she did not see <i>the Mr. Grahame</i> whom she had
+expected. Mr. Trevanion rose as she entered, and shaking
+hands with Mr. Grahame, said kindly, "I leave you with Lilian,
+Mr. Grahame, but I hope to see you again at dinner&mdash;we dine
+at five."</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you, sir, but I hope to be taking tea with my good
+woman at home at that hour."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I shall hope to see you again soon&mdash;you must call
+often and see your friend Lilian."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, I've been thinking, sir, that that would hardly be best
+for any of us&mdash;and to tell the truth, I came to-day to talk with<a class='page' name ='Page_185' id='Page_185' title='185'>&nbsp;</a>
+Lilian about that very thing, and if you please, I have no objection
+that you should hear what I have to say."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Trevanion seated himself again, and Lilian placing
+herself on the sofa beside him, Mr. Grahame resumed:&mdash;"It
+seems to me, sir, that Lilian has to choose between two kinds
+of life, which, should she try to put them together will only
+spoil one another, and I want her to have a fair chance to judge
+between them. Now, you know, sir, I speak the truth when I
+say that there are many among the fine gay people whom Lilian
+will meet at your house, who would look down upon her for
+having such friends as I and my wife, or even my son, though
+President B&mdash;&mdash; says he will be a distinguished man yet."</p>
+
+<p>"I do not care for such people, or for what they think,"
+exclaimed Lilian indignantly.</p>
+
+<p>"I dare say not, my dear child, and yet they are people who
+are thought a great deal of, and whom, if you are to live
+amongst them, it would be worth your while to please&mdash;but
+that isn't my main point, Lilian. What I want to say, though
+I seem to be long coming at it, is, that I want you to see this
+gay life that fine folks in the city lead, at its best&mdash;without any
+such drawbacks as it would have for you, if you were suspected
+of having ungenteel acquaintances, and so we shall none of us
+come to see you&mdash;barring you should be sick, or something
+else happen to make you want us&mdash;until you make a fair trial,
+for six months at least, of this life&mdash;then should the beautiful,
+rich Miss Devoe like the old gardener and his family well enough
+to come and see them, she will learn how fondly and truly they
+love their Lilian."</p>
+
+<p>"I had hoped you loved her too well to give her up so
+needlessly for six months, or even for one month," said Lilian,
+tears rushing to her eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"Ask Mr. Trevanion if I am not right in what I have said,
+my dear child," said Mr. Grahame tenderly.</p>
+
+<p><a class='page' name ='Page_186' id='Page_186' title='186'>&nbsp;</a>"I will not dispute the correctness of your principles in the
+main, Mr. Grahame, but I hope you do not think that all Lilian's
+<i>fine</i> acquaintances as you call them, would be so unjust in their
+judgment as to think the less of her for her love of you, or to
+undervalue you on account of your position in life."</p>
+
+<p>"No sir&mdash;no sir&mdash;I don't think so of all&mdash;but I want Lilian
+to see this life without even one little cloud upon it&mdash;such a
+cloud as the being looked down upon, though it were by people
+she didn't greatly admire, would make. We have our pride
+too, sir, and we want Lilian to try for herself whether our friendship,
+with all its good and its bad, be worth keeping. She is
+too good and affectionate, we know, to shake off old friends
+that love her, even if they become troublesome&mdash;but we will
+draw ourselves off, and then she will be free to come back to
+us or not, as she pleases. Now, sir, tell me frankly, if you think
+me wrong."</p>
+
+<p>"Not wrong in principle, as I said before, Mr. Grahame, but&mdash;excuse
+me&mdash;you required me to be frank&mdash;would it not have
+been better to have made this withdrawal gradually and quietly,
+in such a manner that Lilian would not have noticed it, instead
+of giving her the pain of this abrupt severance of the ties between
+you?"</p>
+
+<p>"A great deal better, sir," said Mr. Grahame, coloring with
+wonderful feeling, and fixing his clear, keen eye full on Mr.
+Trevanion,&mdash;"a great deal better if I wished to sever those ties&mdash;a
+great deal better if I would have Lilian believe that we had
+grown cold and indifferent to her. But, my dear child," and
+he turned to her, and taking both her hands, spoke very earnestly&mdash;"believe
+me, when I tell you, that you will find few
+among those who see you every day, that love you so warmly
+as the friends who have loved you from your birth, and who
+now stand away from you only because they will not be in the
+way of what the world considers higher fortunes for you if you<a class='page' name ='Page_187' id='Page_187' title='187'>&nbsp;</a>
+desire them. To leave you free to choose for yourself, is the
+strongest proof of love we could give you, and I repeat, when
+you have tried all that this new life has to give you&mdash;tried it
+for six months&mdash;if your heart still turns with its old love to
+those early friends, you will give them joy indeed."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Grahame paused, but neither Mr. Trevanion nor Lilian
+attempted to reply to him for some minutes&mdash;at length she
+raised her eyes, and said,</p>
+
+<p>"You did not think of this when I left you&mdash;what has
+changed your mind&mdash;I will not say your <i>heart</i>&mdash;towards me?"</p>
+
+<p>"You are right not to say our hearts, Lilian; but, indeed,
+even my mind has not been changed&mdash;I thought then as I
+think now&mdash;but I could not persuade others of our family to
+think with me. Now, however, they all feel that they cannot
+keep up their old friendly intercourse with you without mortification
+to themselves, and pain to you. And, as I said before,
+we were none of us willing to withdraw from that intercourse
+without giving you our reasons for it, lest you should think we
+had grown indifferent to you."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Grahame soon departed, leaving Lilian saddened and
+Mr. Trevanion perplexed by his visit. "Singular old man!"
+this gentleman exclaimed to himself more than once, in reflecting
+on all that Mr. Grahame had said; so difficult is it for those
+whose minds have been forced into the strait forms of conventionalism
+to comprehend the dictates of untrammelled common
+sense, on points which that conventionalism undertakes to
+control. One thing at least Mr. Trevanion did comprehend&mdash;that
+on the succeeding six months depended Lilian's choice of
+her position and associates for life.</p>
+
+<p>"So far Mr. Grahame is right Lilian," he said to her, "you
+cannot have a place at once in two such different spheres as his
+and ours. I always knew that to be impossible."</p>
+
+<p>"You called my father friend," said Lilian, with unusual
+boldness.</p>
+
+<p><a class='page' name ='Page_188' id='Page_188' title='188'>&nbsp;</a>"Your father was a gentleman by birth and breeding."</p>
+
+<p>"And he has told me," persisted Lilian, "that he has never
+known more true refinement and even nobility of mind than in
+Mr. Grahame."</p>
+
+<p>"I agree with him&mdash;of <i>mind</i>, mark&mdash;but there is a want of
+conventional refinement which would make itself felt in society."</p>
+
+<p>"There is no want even of this in his son," said Lilian with
+a trembling voice, and turning away to hide the blush that
+burned upon her cheek.</p>
+
+<p>"Probably not, for Michael Grahame has been for years at
+the best schools, with the sons of our first families&mdash;but we cannot
+separate him from his father, and from the associates which
+his trade has given him."</p>
+
+<p>Neither Mr. Trevanion nor Lilian ever spoke on this subject
+again; but the former resolved that no effort should be lost on
+his part to restore one so beautiful and so accomplished as his
+young ward to what he considered her true place in society,
+and the latter was as firmly determined that nothing should
+make her forgetful of the friends of her childhood. In furtherance
+of this resolve, Mr. Trevanion, instead of retiring to his
+country-seat with his family on the approach of summer, sent
+his younger children thither under the care of their faithful and
+intelligent nurse; and with Mrs. and Miss Trevanion, and
+Lilian, set out for Saratoga, at that season the great focus of
+fashion. Mrs. Trevanion, entering fully into his designs, had
+attended to Lilian's equipments for this important campaign,
+with no less care than to Anna's, and the result equalled their
+fondest expectations. Lilian was <i>the beauty</i>, <i>the heiress</i>, the
+belle of the season. Report exaggerated her fortune, appended
+all sorts of romantic incidents to her history and her connection
+with the Trevanions, and thus increased the interest which her
+own beauty and modest elegance was calculated to awaken.<a class='page' name ='Page_189' id='Page_189' title='189'>&nbsp;</a>
+Admirers crowded around her, and to render her triumph complete,
+one who had hitherto found no charms in America
+worthy his homage, bowed at her shrine. This was Mr.
+Derwent, an Englishman of high birth and large fortune, whose
+elegant exterior, and the perfect <i>savoir faire</i> which marked his
+manners, made him at Saratoga,</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i8">"The observed of all observers,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The glass of fashion and the mould of form."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>Mr. Trevanion looked on with scarcely concealed delight.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, father! do you wish to see Lilian leave us for England?"
+cried Anna Trevanion, to whom he had expressed his
+satisfaction.</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly, my daughter, if only in that way I can see her
+take that position which is hers by inheritance, and from which
+only her father's misfortunes have estranged her."</p>
+
+<p>But Mr. Trevanion's hopes of so desirable a termination of
+his cares for Lilian faded, as he saw the reserve with which she
+met the attentions of her admirers&mdash;not excepting even the
+admired Mr. Derwent.</p>
+
+<p>"Among the beauties at this place, Miss L&mdash;&mdash; D&mdash;&mdash;, the
+ward of Mr. T&mdash;&mdash;, stands unrivalled. She is an heiress as
+well as a beauty, but the report is that both the fortune and
+the beauty are to be borne to another land, in the possession of
+the Honorable Mr. D&mdash;&mdash;, whose personal qualities, united to
+his station and fortune, render him, in the opinion of the ladies
+at least, irresistible."</p>
+
+<p>Such was the paragraph in a New-York daily paper, which
+Mr. Trevanion one morning handed to Lilian with a smile.
+She read it silence, and laid it down without a comment, except
+that which was furnished by the proud erection of her
+figure, and the almost scornful curl of her lip.</p>
+
+<p><a class='page' name ='Page_190' id='Page_190' title='190'>&nbsp;</a>When next she met Mr. Derwent, Mr. Trevanion's eye was
+on her, for he thought, "She cannot preserve her perfect indifference
+of manner with the consciousness that their names
+have been thus associated." He was mistaken. The color on
+Lilian's cheek deepened not at Mr. Derwent's approach, nor did
+her hand tremble as she laid it upon the arm he offered in attending
+her to dinner. "Her heart must be already occupied,"
+said Mr. Trevanion to himself, and perhaps he was right in believing
+that nothing but a deep and true affection&mdash;one which
+was founded on no adventitious circumstances, but on the immovable
+basis of esteem&mdash;could have enabled her to resist the
+blandishments which surrounded her in her present position.
+But she did resist them, and still, from the luxurious elegancies,
+the gay entertainments and the flatteries of fashionable
+life, her heart turned with undiminished tenderness to the tranquil
+shades of Mossgiel, and still paid there its willing homage
+to the loftiest intellect and the noblest heart, in her estimation,
+with which earth was blessed.</p>
+
+<p>September, with its cool, invigorating freshness, had come,
+when Mr. Trevanion's family returned to the city. To Lilian's
+great, though unspoken disappointment, the children met them
+there, and no thought seemed to be entertained of a visit to the
+country. Carefully she had kept the date of Mr. Grahame's
+conversation, in which he had demanded that she should make
+a six months' trial of life, freed from the associations which her
+early poverty had fastened on her. In a few weeks after her
+return to New-York, the six months were completed. On the
+day preceding its exact completion, Lilian expressed to Mr.
+Trevanion her wish to visit Mossgiel. "It is now six months,"
+she said with a blush and a smile, "since I saw Mr. Grahame."</p>
+
+<p>Whatever might have been Mr. Trevanion's wishes for his
+ward, he had neither the right nor the will to control her
+actions, and he not only consented to her going, but went down<a class='page' name ='Page_191' id='Page_191' title='191'>&nbsp;</a>
+with her himself to Trevanion Hall, where they arrived late in
+the evening.</p>
+
+<p>Lilian knew that the inhabitants of Mossgiel kept early
+hours, and the gay pink and blue and white convolvuluses,
+which arched the rude gate leading from the more public road
+into the rural lane by which their house was approached, had
+just unfolded their petals, when she rode through it on the
+morning succeeding her arrival at Trevanion Hall. She had
+declined the attendance of a servant, and set off at a brisk
+canter, but soon reined in her horse and proceeded at a slower
+pace. Hope and fear were busy at her heart. Six months!
+What changes might not have taken place in that time! Again
+Lilian touched her horse with her light riding-whip, and rode
+briskly on till she reached the gate of which we have spoken.
+Here she alighted to open the gate. As she entered the lane
+she saw, not far in advance of her, a boy who had been hired to
+assist Mr. Grahame in the garden. She called to him, and
+giving him her bridle to lead her horse to the stable, walked
+on herself towards the house, which was little more than a
+hundred yards distant. After walking a few steps, she turned
+to ask, "Are Mr. and Mrs. Grahame well?"</p>
+
+<p>Another question trembled on her lips&mdash;but she could not
+speak it. "If <i>he</i> love me, he will be here," she whispered to
+herself, and again passed on. The road wound around the
+house, and led to the entrance on the river front. There was a
+side gate leading to the garden, and there, at that hour, Lilian
+knew she would most probably meet the elder Mr. Grahame,
+while his wife was almost certain to be found in the dairy, to
+which the same gate would give her access; but the gate was
+passed with a light, quick step, and Lilian entered the house at
+the front. With a fluttering heart, but a steady purpose, she
+passed on, without meeting any one, or hearing a sound, to the
+usual morning room. The door was open; she entered, and<a class='page' name ='Page_192' id='Page_192' title='192'>&nbsp;</a>
+her heart throbbed exultingly, for <i>he</i> was there. Michael Grahame
+sat at a table writing. His back was towards the door,
+and her light step had given no notice of her presence. Agitated
+by a thousand commingled emotions, wishing, yet dreading to
+meet his eye, she stood gazing on his face as it was reflected in
+an opposite mirror. It seemed to her paler and graver than of
+yore. Manhood had stamped its lines more deeply on the brow
+since last they parted. But some movement, a sigh, perhaps,
+from her, has startled him. He raises his head, and in the
+mirror their eyes meet. In that glance her whole soul has
+been revealed, and with one glad cry of "Lilian! my Lilian!"
+he turns, and she is folded in his arms.</p>
+
+<p>There was no more doubt, no more fear, on her part&mdash;no
+concealment on his. She had chosen freely and nobly, and she
+was rewarded by love as deep, as devoted, and as unselfish as
+ever woman inspired, or man felt.</p>
+
+<p>The marriage of Lilian, which took place in three months
+after her return to Mossgiel, could not but excite some interest
+in the world in which she had so lately occupied a conspicuous
+place. When, however, to the great question&mdash;"Who is this
+Mr. Grahame?" the answer, "Nothing but a mechanic," was
+received&mdash;the interest soon faded away, and in the winter Lilian
+found herself in New-York, with scarcely an acquaintance,
+except the Trevanions, and she could easily perceive that something
+of pity was mingled with their former kindness. Yet
+never had Lilian been less an object of pity. Every day increased
+not only her affection to her husband, but her pride in
+him, by revealing to her more of his high powers and noble
+qualities. Those powers had received a new spring from his
+desire to prove himself worthy of his cherished wife. He had
+long been occupied with a problem whose solution, he believed,
+would enable him to increase greatly both the speed and safety
+of steam navigation. In the early part of the winter succeeding<a class='page' name ='Page_193' id='Page_193' title='193'>&nbsp;</a>
+his marriage, with a glad spirit, with which Lilian fully sympathized,
+he cried "Eureka." Before the winter concluded he had
+been to Washington, and explaining to the officers of our own
+government the importance of his invention, sought permission
+to test it on a government vessel. After many delays, with that
+short-sighted policy which cannot look beyond the present expense
+to the overpaying results, the proposition was declined.
+During his stay in Washington, his object had become noised
+abroad, and the Russian Minister had opened a correspondence
+with him and with his own court on the subject. The result of
+this correspondence was, that in the following spring Michael
+Grahame sailed for Russia, to test his invention first in the
+service of its emperor. He was accompanied by Lilian. Their
+departure and its object were talked of for awhile, but soon
+ceased to be remembered, except by men of science, and those
+immediately interested in the result of his experiment.</p>
+
+<p>In the mean time Anna Trevanion married. Her husband,
+Mr. Walker, was a man of large property, and of social position
+equal to her own. They spent the first two years of their married
+life abroad. It was in the second of these two years, and
+when Lilian had been four years in St. Petersburgh, that Mr.
+and Mrs. Walker entered that city. One of their first inquiries
+of the American Minister was, "What Americans are here?"
+and at the head of the list he presented, stood Mr. and Mrs.
+Grahame. "And who are Mr. and Mrs. Grahame?" asked Mr.
+Walker. "You say they are from New-York, and I remember
+no such names of any consequence in society there."</p>
+
+<p>"I do not know what their consequence was there, but I
+assure you it is as great here as the partiality of the Emperor,
+the favor of the Imperial family, and their association with the
+highest rank, can make it."</p>
+
+<p>"But how did people unknown at home work themselves
+into such a position?"</p>
+
+<p><a class='page' name ='Page_194' id='Page_194' title='194'>&nbsp;</a>"They did not work themselves into it all&mdash;they took it at
+once, by the only right which Americans have to any position
+abroad&mdash;the right of their own fitness for it. Mr. Grahame,
+besides his high attainments in science, and his skill in mechanics,
+which first introduced him to the Emperor, is a man of
+fine appearance, of very extensive information, and very agreeable
+manners, and Mrs. Grahame is one of the most beautiful
+and cultivated women I know. I repeat, you cannot enter
+society here under better auspices than theirs."</p>
+
+<p>And thus the long-severed friends met in reversed positions;
+and if something of triumph did flash from Lilian's eyes, as she
+saw her husband, day after day, procuring from the Emperor's
+favor, privileges for Mr. and Mrs. Walker, not often enjoyed by
+strangers, her triumph was for him, and may be excused.</p>
+
+<p>After eight years spent in Russia, during which he had acquired
+fortune as well as fame, Michael Grahame returned to
+America, with his wife and three lovely children, and retired to
+a beautiful country seat within a mile of Mossgiel, purchased
+and furnished for him during his absence. His father still
+cultivates his garden, though he has ceased to sell its produce,
+and through those flowery walks Lilian and her husband still
+delight to wander, recalling the happy memories with which
+they are linked, with grateful and adoring hearts.</p>
+
+<p>"I shall never object again to any woman in whom I am
+interested, marrying the man of her choice, because he is only
+a mechanic," said Mrs. Trevanion to her husband, as they were
+returning one day from a visit to Mr. and Mrs. Grahame.</p>
+
+<p>"There, my dear, in those words, <i>only a mechanic</i>, lies our
+mistake, the world's mistake, in such matters. No man is <i>only</i>
+what his trade, his profession, or his position in life makes him.
+Every man is something besides this, something by force of his
+own inherent personal qualities. By these the true man is
+formed, and by these he should be judged."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a class='page' name ='Page_195' id='Page_195' title='195'>&nbsp;</a><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a><a href="#CONTENTS">CHAPTER XII.</a></h2>
+
+
+<p>Again we were all assembled in the parlor in which so many
+of our cheerful evenings had been spent, but a shadow seemed to
+have fallen on our little circle. The New-Year was now close
+in its approach, and immediately after the commencement of
+the New-Year we must separate. Mr. and Mrs. Dudley, with
+their children, and Mr. and Mrs. Seagrove, with theirs, and
+Mr. Arlington and I, must all leave within a day or two
+of each other, and a year, with all its chances and changes, will
+probably intervene before we meet again. The very thought,
+as I have said, threw a shadow upon us; but Col. Donaldson,
+who is a most inveterate foe to sadness, would not suffer us to
+yield unresistingly to its influence. If our time was short, the
+greater the necessity for crowding enjoyment into its every
+moment, he said: we could spare none of it for lamentations.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, Aunt Nancy," he continued, "if I am not mistaken,
+you can match Mr. Arlington's story with one quite as romantic,
+of an extraordinary marriage in high life. Do you remember
+Lady Houstoun and her son Edward Houstoun&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes!" I cried, interrupting him, "and the beautiful
+Lucy Watson too."</p>
+
+<p>"Then I am sure you must have their story somewhere in
+your bundle of romances."</p>
+
+<p>"I believe I have," I replied, as opening my desk I drew<a class='page' name ='Page_196' id='Page_196' title='196'>&nbsp;</a>
+out package after package, the amusement of many an hour,
+which but for such a resource might have been sad in its loneliness.
+Some were looking fresh and new, and others yellow
+from age. Among the latter was that for which I was searching,
+and which Annie insists that I shall give to the reader,
+under the title of</p>
+
+
+<h3><a name="LOVE_AND_PRIDE" id="LOVE_AND_PRIDE"></a><a href="#CONTENTS">LOVE AND PRIDE.</a></h3>
+
+<p>A proud and stately dame was Lady Houstoun, as she continued
+to be called after the independence of America had
+rendered such titles valueless in our land. Sir Edward Houstoun
+was an English baronet, whose estates had once been a fit
+support to his ancient title, but whose family had suffered
+deeply, both in purse and person, by their loyalty to Charles
+the First, and yet more by their obstinate adherence to his bigot
+son, James II. By a marriage with Louisa Vivian, an American
+heiress possessed of broad lands and a large amount of ready
+money, Sir Edward acquired the power of supporting his rank
+with all the splendor that had belonged to his family in the
+olden time; but circumstances connected with the poverty of
+his early years had given the young baronet a disgust to his
+own circle, which was not alleviated by the rapid changes
+effected by his newly-acquired wealth, and he preferred returning
+to America with his young bride, and adopting her country
+as his own. Here wealth sufficient for their most extravagant
+desires was theirs&mdash;houses in New-York, and fertile acres
+stretching far away from the city, now sweeping for many a
+rood the banks of the fair Hudson, and now reaching back into
+the rich lands that lie east of that river. When the separation
+of this country from England came, the representative of her
+most loyal family, whose motto was "<i>Dieu et mon Roi</i>" was
+found in the ranks of republican America. "He could not,"<a class='page' name ='Page_197' id='Page_197' title='197'>&nbsp;</a>
+he said, "recognize a divine right in the House of Hanover to
+the throne of the Stuarts, or justify by any human reason the
+blind subservience of Americans to the ruinous enactments of
+an English parliament, controlled by a rash and headstrong
+minister and a wayward king." Ten years after the proclamation
+of peace Sir Edward died, leaving one son who had just
+entered his twentieth year.</p>
+
+<p>Young as Edward Houstoun was, he had a man's decision of
+character; and when the question of his assuming his father's
+title, and claiming the estates attached to it in England, was submitted
+to him, he replied that "his proudest title was that of
+an American citizen, and he would not forfeit that title to
+become a royal duke." He could therefore inherit only his
+father's personal property, consisting principally of plate, jewels
+and paintings. The property thus received was all which the
+young Edward Houstoun could call his own. All else was his
+mother's, and though it would doubtless be his at her death,
+the Lady Houstoun was not one to relinquish the reins of
+government before that inevitable hour should wrest them from
+her hand. She made her son a very handsome allowance,
+however, and, with a higher degree of generosity than any
+pecuniary grant could evince, she never attempted to control
+his actions, suffering him to enjoy his sports in the country and
+amusements in the city without constraint. The Lady Houstoun
+was a wise woman, as well as an affectionate mother. She saw
+well that her son's independent and proud nature might be
+attracted by kindness to move whither she would, while the
+very appearance of constraint would drive him in an opposite
+direction. On one subject he greatly tried her forbearance&mdash;the
+unbecoming levity, as she esteemed it, with which he regarded
+the big-wigged gentlemen and hooped and farthingaled
+ladies whose portraits ornamented their picture gallery. For
+only one of these did Edward profess the slightest consideration.<a class='page' name ='Page_198' id='Page_198' title='198'>&nbsp;</a>
+This was that of the simple soldier whose gallantry under
+William the Conqueror had laid the foundation of his family
+fortunes and honors.</p>
+
+<p>"Dear mother," said he one day,  "what proof have we that
+those other fine gentlemen and ladies deserved the wealth and
+station which, through his noble qualities, they obtained?"</p>
+
+<p>"Sir James Houstoun, my son, who devoted life and fortune
+to his king&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Pardon me, noble Sir James," interrupted Edward,
+bowing low and with mock gravity to the portrait, "I will
+place you and your stern-looking son there at your side next
+in my veneration to our first ancestor. Yet you showed that,
+like me, you had little value for wealth or station."</p>
+
+<p>"Edward!" ejaculated Lady Houstoun, in an accent of displeasure,
+"that we are willing to sacrifice a possession at the
+call of duty does not prove us insensible of its value."</p>
+
+<p>"Nay, mother mine, speak not so gravely, but acknowledge
+that you would be prouder of your boy if you saw him by his
+own energies winning his way to distinction from earth's
+lowliest station, than you can be of him now&mdash;idler as he is."</p>
+
+<p>"There is no less merit, Edward, in using aright the gifts
+which we inherit, than in acquiring them. There is as much
+energy, I can assure you, demanded in the proper management
+of large estates, and the right direction of the influence derived
+from station&mdash;ay, often more energy, the exercise of higher
+powers, than those by which a fortunate soldier, in time of war,
+may often spring in a day from nameless poverty to wealth and
+rank."</p>
+
+<p>The Lady Houstoun's still fine figure was elevated to its
+utmost height as she spoke, and her dark eye flashed out from
+beneath the shadow of the deep borders of her widow's cap.
+A stranger would have gazed on her with admiration, but her
+son turned away with a slight shrug of the shoulders and a<a class='page' name ='Page_199' id='Page_199' title='199'>&nbsp;</a>
+curling lip, as he said to himself, "My mother may feel all this,
+for she manages the estates, and she bestows the influence&mdash;while
+I <i>amuse myself</i>. Mother," he added aloud, "they say
+there is fine sport in the neighborhood of the Glen, and I should
+like to see the place. I will take a party thither next week, if
+you will write to your farmer to prepare the house for us."</p>
+
+<p>"I will, Edward, certainly, if you desire it, but it has been
+so long since any of us were there, that I fear you will find
+the house very uncomfortable."</p>
+
+<p>"So much the better, if it give us a little variety in our
+smooth lives. I dare say we shall all like it very much. I
+shall, at least, and if the rest do not, they can return."</p>
+
+<p>The Glen was a wild rural spot among the Highlands,
+where Sir Edward had delighted occasionally to spend a few
+weeks with his wife and child and one or two chosen friends, in
+the enjoyment of country sports. For several years before his
+father's death, Edward had been too much engaged in his
+collegiate studies to share these visits. During the three years
+which had passed since that event, neither Lady Houstoun nor
+her son had visited the Glen, and it was not without emotion
+that she heard him name his intention of taking a party thither;
+but she offered no opposition to the plan, and in a little more
+than a week he was established in the comfortable dwelling-house
+there, with Walter Osgood; Philip Van Schaick, and
+Peter Schuyler, companions who were soon persuaded to leave
+the somewhat formal circles of the city for a few days of
+adventure in the country. They had arrived late in the night,
+and wearied by fifteen hours' confinement on board a small
+sloop, the visitors slept late the next morning, while Edward
+Houstoun, haunted by tender memories, was early awake and
+abroad. Standing in the porch, he looked forth through the
+gray light of the early dawn on hill and dale and river,
+endeavoring to recall the feelings with which he had gazed on<a class='page' name ='Page_200' id='Page_200' title='200'>&nbsp;</a>
+them seven years before. Then he was a boy of scarcely
+sixteen, eager only for the holiday sport or the distinction of
+the school-room&mdash;now, he stood there&mdash;a boy still, his heart
+indignantly pronounced, though he had numbered nearly
+twenty-three years. Edward Houstoun was beginning to wake
+to somewhat of noble scorn in viewing his own position&mdash;beginning
+to feel that to amuse himself was an object hardly
+worthy a <i>man's</i> life. Turning forcibly from such thoughts, he
+sprang down the steps, and pursued a path leading by the
+orchard and through a flowery lane, towards the dwelling of
+the farmer to whom the management of the Glen had been intrusted,
+first by Sir Edward and afterwards by Lady Houstoun.
+The sun was just touching with a sapphire tint the few clouds
+that specked the eastern sky; the branches of the wild rose
+and mountain laurel which skirted the lane on the right were
+heavy with the dews of night, and the birds seemed caroling
+their earliest song in the orchard and clover-field on the left,
+yet the farmer's horses were already harnessed to the wagon,
+and through the open door of the house Edward Houstoun as he
+approached caught a glimpse of Farmer Pye himself and his
+men seated at breakfast. As he was not perceived by them,
+he passed on, without interrupting them, to the dairy, where
+the good dame was busy with her white pails and bright pans.
+A calico bonnet with a very deep front concealed his approach
+from Mrs. Pye until he stood beside her; but there was one
+within the dairy who saw him, and whose coquettish movement
+in snatching from her glossy brown ringlets a bonnet of the
+same unbecoming shape with that of Mrs. Pye, did not escape
+his observation.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, now&mdash;did I ever see the like! Why, Mr. Edward,
+you've grown clean out of a body's memory&mdash;but after all, nobody
+couldn't help knowing you that ever seen your papa, good
+gentleman&mdash;how much you are like him!"</p>
+
+<p><a class='page' name ='Page_201' id='Page_201' title='201'>&nbsp;</a>Thus ran on Dame Pye, while Edward, except when compelled
+by a question to attend to her, was wondering who the
+fair girl could be, who was separated from her companion not
+less by the tasteful arrangement of her dress&mdash;simple and even
+coarse as it was in its material&mdash;and by a certain grace of movement,
+than by her delicate beauty. Her form was slender in
+proportion to its height, yet gave in its graceful outline promise
+of a development "rich in all woman's loveliness;" and her face,
+with its dark starry eyes, its clear, transparent skin, and rich,
+waving curls of glossy brown, recalled so vividly to Edward
+Houstoun's memory his favorite description of beauty, that he
+repeated almost audibly:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"One shade the more, one ray the less,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Had half impair'd the nameless grace<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That waves in every glossy tress,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Or softly lightens o'er her face,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where thoughts serenely sweet express<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">How pure, how dear their dwelling-place."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>His admiration, if not audible, was sufficiently evident to
+its object&mdash;at least so we interpret her tremulous and uncertain
+movements, the eloquent blood which glowed in her cheeks,
+and the mistakes which at length aroused Mrs. Pye's attention.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, Lucy! what under the sun and earth's the matter
+with you, child?  Dear&mdash;dear&mdash;to go putting the cream into
+the new milk, instead of emptying it into the churn! There&mdash;there&mdash;child&mdash;better
+go in now&mdash;I'll finish&mdash;and just tell Mr.
+Pye that Mr. Edward is here," said Mrs. Pye, fearful of some
+new accident.</p>
+
+<p>The discarded bonnet was put on with a heightened color,
+and the young girl moved rapidly yet gracefully toward the
+house.</p>
+
+<p><a class='page' name ='Page_202' id='Page_202' title='202'>&nbsp;</a>"I did not remember you had a daughter, Mrs. Pye," said
+Edward Houstoun, as she disappeared.</p>
+
+<p>"And I haven't a daughter&mdash;only the two boys, Sammy
+and Isaac&mdash;good big boys they are now, and help their father
+quite some&mdash;but this girl's none of mine, though I'm sure I love
+her 'most as well&mdash;she's so pretty and nice, and has such handy
+ways, though what could have tempted her to put the cream
+in the new milk just now, I'm sure I can't tell."</p>
+
+<p>"But who is she, Mrs. Pye?"</p>
+
+<p>"Who is she? Why, sure, and did you never hear of Lucy
+Watson? Oh! here's Mr. Pye."</p>
+
+<p>Edward Houstoun was too much interested in learning something
+more of Lucy Watson, not to find a sufficient reason for
+lingering behind the farmer, who was impatient to be in his
+hay-field. Mrs. Pye was communicative, and he soon learned
+all she knew&mdash;that Lucy was the daughter of a soldier belonging
+to a company commanded by Sir Edward Houstoun during
+the war&mdash;that this soldier had received his death-wound in defending
+his commander from a sword-cut, and that Sir Edward
+had always considered his widow and only child as his especial
+charge. The widow had soon followed her husband to the
+grave, and the child had been placed by Sir Edward with the
+wife of a country clergyman. To Mr. and Mrs. Merton, Lucy
+had been as an own and only daughter.</p>
+
+<p>"The good old people made quite a lady of her," said Mrs.
+Pye. "She can read and write equal to the parson himself,
+and I've hearn folks say that her 'broidery and music playin'
+was better than Mrs. Merton's own; but, poor thing! Mrs.
+Merton died, and still the parson begged Sir Edward to let her
+stay with him&mdash;she was all that was left now, he said&mdash;so Sir
+Edward let her stay. Mr. Merton died a year ago, and when
+Mr. Pye wrote to the lady&mdash;that's your mother, Mr. Edward&mdash;about
+her, she said she'd better come here and stay with us, and<a class='page' name ='Page_203' id='Page_203' title='203'>&nbsp;</a>
+she would pay her board, and give her money for clothes, and
+five thousand dollars beside, whenever she should get married.
+I'm sure she's welcome to stay, if it was without pay,
+for we all love her, but, somehow, it don't seem the right place
+for her&mdash;and, as to marrying, I don't think she'll ever marry
+any body around her, for, kind-spoken as she is, they wouldn't
+any of them dare to ask her, though they're all in love with her
+beautiful face."</p>
+
+<p>In a week Edward Houstoun's friends had grown weary of
+ruralizing&mdash;they found no longer any music in the crack of a
+fowling-piece, or any enjoyment in the dying agonies of the
+feathered tribes, and, having resisted all their persuasions to return
+with them, he was left alone.</p>
+
+<p>"I shall report you as love-sick, or brain-sick, reclining by
+purling streams, under shady groves, to read Shakspeare, or
+Milton, or Spenser, for each of these books I have seen you at
+different times put in your pocket, and wander forth with a
+most sentimental air&mdash;doubtless to make love to some Nymph
+or Dryad."</p>
+
+<p>"Make love! Ah! there, I take it, you have winged the
+right bird, Van Schaick."</p>
+
+<p>"If I had seen a decent petticoat since we took leave of
+Mynheer Van Winkle and his daughter, on board the good
+sloop St. Nicholas, I should think so too, Osgood."</p>
+
+<p>"At any rate, it would be wise to report our suspicions to
+his lady mother."</p>
+
+<p>"Your suspicions of what&mdash;lunacy or love?" asked Edward
+Houstoun.</p>
+
+<p>"A distinction without a difference&mdash;they are equivalent
+terms."</p>
+
+<p>Thus jested his friends, and thus jested Edward Houstoun
+with them&mdash;well assured that no gleam of the truth had shined
+on them&mdash;that they never supposed his visits at Farmer Pye's<a class='page' name ='Page_204' id='Page_204' title='204'>&nbsp;</a>
+possessed any greater attraction than could be derived from the
+farmer's details of improvements made at the Glen, of the increased
+value of lands, or the proceeds of the last year's crop.
+They had never seen Lucy Watson, and how could they suspect
+that while the farmer smoked his pipe at the door, and the
+good dame bustled about her household concerns, he sat watching
+with enamored eyes the changes of a countenance full of
+intelligence and sensibility, and listening with charmed ears to
+a soft, musical voice recounting, with all the simple eloquence
+of genuine feeling, obligations to the father whose memory was
+with him almost an idolatry. Still less could they divine that
+Shakspeare, and Milton, and Spenser were indeed often read
+beside a purling stream, and within the dense shadow of a
+grove of oak and chestnut-trees&mdash;not to Nymph or Dryad, but
+to a "mortal being of earth's mould,"</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"A creature not too bright or good<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For human nature's daily food,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For simple pleasures, harmless wiles,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For love, blame, kisses, tears and smiles."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>Here, one afternoon, a fortnight after the departure of his
+friends, sat Edward Houstoun with Lucy at his side. They had
+lingered till the sunlight, which had fallen here and there in
+broken and changeful gleams through over-arching boughs,
+touching with gold the ripples at their feet, had faded into that</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i12">"mellow light<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Which heaven to gaudy day denies."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>Edward Houstoun held a book in his hand, but it had long
+been closed, while he was engaged in a far more interesting
+study. He had with a delicate tact won his companion to
+speak as she had never spoken before of herself&mdash;not of the<a class='page' name ='Page_205' id='Page_205' title='205'>&nbsp;</a>
+few events of her short life, for these were already known to
+him, but of the influence of those events on feeling and character.
+Tenderness looked forth without disguise from the
+earnest eyes which were fastened on her, as he said, "You
+say, Lucy, that you have found friends every where, have met
+only kindness, and yet you weep&mdash;you are sad."</p>
+
+<p>"Do not think me ungrateful," she replied. "I have indeed
+found friends and kindness&mdash;but these give exercise only
+to my gratitude&mdash;stronger, tenderer affections I have, which no
+father, or mother, or brother, or sister, will ever call forth."</p>
+
+<p>"Nay, Lucy, were you not adopted by my father, and am I
+not your brother?"</p>
+
+<p>A glance whose brightness melted into tears was her only
+answer.</p>
+
+<p>"Fie! fie! tears again? I shall have to scold my sister,"
+said Edward Houstoun. "What complaint can you make now
+that I have found you a brother?"</p>
+
+<p>Lucy laughed, but soon her face grew grave, and, after a
+thoughtful pause, she said, "I believe those cannot be quite
+happy who feel that they have nothing to do in the world.
+Better be the poorest drudge, with powers fitted to your station,
+than to be as I am, an idler&mdash;a mere looker-on at the world."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, Lucy! what else am I?"</p>
+
+<p>"You! You, with fortune to bless, and influence to guide
+hundreds! What are you? God's representative to your less
+fortunate fellow-creatures&mdash;the steward of his bounty. Oh! be
+sure that you use your gifts faithfully."</p>
+
+<p>Lucy spoke solemnly, and it was with no light accent that
+Edward Houstoun replied&mdash;"You mistake, Lucy&mdash;you mistake&mdash;I
+am in truth no less an idler than yourself&mdash;a looker-on,
+with no part in the game of life. To the Lady Houstoun belong
+both the fortune and the influence." A mocking smile
+had arisen to his lip, but, as he caught her look of surprise, it<a class='page' name ='Page_206' id='Page_206' title='206'>&nbsp;</a>
+passed away, leaving a gentle gravity in its place, while he continued&mdash;"Do
+not think I mean to complain of my mother,
+Lucy. She has been ever affectionate and indulgent to me.
+She leaves me no want that she can perceive. My purse is
+always full, and my actions unrestrained. I suppose I ought
+to be happy."</p>
+
+<p>"And are you not happy?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, Lucy, no! There has long been a vague restlessness
+and dissatisfaction about me&mdash;and, now, your words have
+thrown light on its cause. I am weary of the perpetual holiday
+which life has been to me since I left the walls of a college.
+I want to be doing&mdash;I want an object&mdash;something for which
+to strive and hope and fear&mdash;what shall it be, Lucy?"</p>
+
+<p>"I have heard Mr. Merton say that no one could choose for
+another his aims in life, but were I choosing for myself, it should
+be something that would connect me with the minds of others&mdash;something
+by which I could do service to their spiritual
+beings. Were I a man, I should like to write books&mdash;such
+books as would give counsel and comfort to erring and sad
+hearts&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Edward Houstoun shook his head&mdash;"Even had I an author's
+gifts, Lucy, that would not do for me&mdash;I must have action in
+my life&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"What say you to the pulpit?"</p>
+
+<p>"The noblest of all employments, Lucy&mdash;but it is a heavenly
+employment and needs a heavenly spirit. I would not dare to
+think of that. Try again&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"The law? Ah! now I see I have chosen rightly&mdash;you
+will be a lawyer&mdash;a great lawyer, like Mr. Patrick Henry."</p>
+
+<p>"You have spoken, Lucy&mdash;and I will do my best to fulfil
+your prophecy. I may not be a Patrick Henry&mdash;two such men
+belong not to one age&mdash;but I may at least hew out for myself
+a place among men, where I may stand with a man's freedom<a class='page' name ='Page_207' id='Page_207' title='207'>&nbsp;</a>
+of thought and action. The very decision has emancipated me&mdash;has
+emboldened me to speak what a moment since I scarcely
+dared to think&mdash;nay, turn not from me, beloved&mdash;oh how passionately
+beloved! Life has now its object for me, Lucy&mdash;your
+love&mdash;for that I will strive&mdash;hope&mdash;whisper me that I
+need not fear&mdash;that when I have a right to claim my bride&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>When Edward Houstoun commenced this passionate apostrophe,
+he had clasped Lucy's hand, and, overcome by his
+emotions and her own&mdash;forgetting all but his love&mdash;conscious
+only of a bewildering joy&mdash;she had suffered it to rest for one
+instant in his clasp. It was but for one instant&mdash;the next, struggling
+from him as he strove to retain her, she started to her
+feet, and stood leaning against the trunk of the tree that overshadowed
+them, with her face hidden by her clasped hands.
+He rose and drew near, saying, in low, tremulous tones&mdash;"Lucy,
+what means this?"</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Houstoun," she exclaimed, removing her hands from
+her face, and wringing them in passionate sorrow&mdash;"how could
+you speak those words?"</p>
+
+<p>"Wherefore should I not speak them&mdash;are they so terrifying
+to you, Lucy?"</p>
+
+<p>"Can they be otherwise, since they must separate us for
+ever? Think you that the Lady Houstoun would endure that
+the creature of her bounty should become the wife of her son?"</p>
+
+<p>"I asked, Lucy, that you would promise to be mine when
+I had won a right to act independently of the Lady Houstoun's
+opinions."</p>
+
+<p>"Has a son ever a right to act independently of a mother?"</p>
+
+<p>"Is the obedience of a child to be exacted from a man? Is
+his happiness ever to be at the mercy of another's prejudices?
+Does there never come a period when he may be permitted to
+judge for himself?"</p>
+
+<p>Edward Houstoun spoke with indignant emphasis.</p>
+
+<p><a class='page' name ='Page_208' id='Page_208' title='208'>&nbsp;</a>"Look not so sternly&mdash;speak not so angrily," exclaimed
+Lucy. "I cannot answer your questions&mdash;but my obligations,
+at least, are irreversible&mdash;they belong to the irrevocable past,
+and while I retain their memory I can never&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Hush&mdash;hush, Lucy! you will drive me mad. Is my happiness
+of less value in your eyes than the few paltry dollars my
+mother expended for you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Shall I, serpent-like, sting the hand that has fed me? No!
+no! would I had never heard those words. We were so happy&mdash;you
+will be happy again&mdash;but I&mdash;leave me, I pray you, for
+we must part now and for ever&mdash;oh! leave me."</p>
+
+<p>"No, Lucy, we will never part&mdash;I will never leave you."</p>
+
+<p>He would again have drawn her to his side, but at his touch,
+Lucy roused herself, and with a wild, half-frenzied effort, breaking
+from him, she rushed rapidly, blindly forward. He would
+have followed her, but stumbling against the root of a tree,
+before he could recover himself she was at the outskirts of the
+wood, in sight of the farm-house, and though he might overtake
+he could not detain her. He returned home, not overwhelmed
+with disappointment, but with joy throbbing at his heart, and
+hope beaming in his eyes. Lucy loved him&mdash;of that he felt
+assured&mdash;and bucklered by that assurance he could stand
+against the world. Life was before him&mdash;a life not of sickly
+pleasures and <i>ennui</i> breeding indolence&mdash;but a life of contest
+and struggle and labor, perhaps even of exhausting labor, yet
+a life which should awaken and discipline his powers: a life of
+victory and of repose&mdash;sweet because won with effort&mdash;a life
+to which Lucy's love should give its crowning joy. Such are
+youth's dreams. In his case these dreams were somewhat
+rudely dispelled by a summons from his mother's physician.
+Lady Houstoun was ill&mdash;very ill&mdash;he must not delay, said the
+physician; and he did not; yet a hastily pencilled line told that
+even at this moment Lucy was not forgotten&mdash;it was a farewell
+which breathed love and faith and hope.</p>
+
+<p><a class='page' name ='Page_209' id='Page_209' title='209'>&nbsp;</a>On Edward Houstoun's arrival in New-York, he found his
+mother already recovering from the acute attack which had
+endangered her life and occasioned his recall. He soon unfolded
+to her his new views of life, and the career which he had
+marked out for himself. New views indeed&mdash;new and incomprehensible
+to Lady Houstoun! She saw not that the life of
+indulgence, the perpetual gala-day, which she anticipated for
+her son, would have condemned him to see his highest powers
+dwindle away and die in the lethargy of inaction, or to waste
+in repinings against fate those energies given to command
+success. Time moderated her astonishment, and quiet perseverance
+subdued her opposition&mdash;subdued it the more readily,
+perhaps, from the knowledge that her son could accomplish
+his designs without her aid, by turning into money the plate,
+jewels and pictures received from his father. Edward Houstoun's
+first act, after securing the execution of his designs, was
+to inform Lucy of the progress he had made. His own absence
+from New-York at this time would have excited his
+mother's surprise, and might have aroused her suspicions; but
+the haste with which he had left the Glen furnished him with a
+plausible excuse for sending his own man to look after clothing,
+books, &amp;c., that had been forgotten, and by him a letter could,
+he knew, be safely sent.</p>
+
+<p>A few days brought back to him his own letter, with the
+intelligence that Lucy had left Farmer Pye's family. Whither
+she had gone, they could not, or would not tell. Setting all
+fears at defiance, he went himself to the Glen&mdash;he sounded and
+examined and cross-examined every member of the farmer's
+family; but in vain were his efforts. He learned only that she
+had declared her intention of supporting herself by her own exertions,
+instead of continuing dependent on the Lady Houstoun&mdash;that
+she had returned the lady's last donation, through the
+farmer, with many expressions of gratitude, and that she had<a class='page' name ='Page_210' id='Page_210' title='210'>&nbsp;</a>
+left home for the house of an acquaintance in New-York, from
+whom she hoped to receive advice and assistance in the accomplishment
+of her intentions. She had mentioned neither the
+name nor place of residence of this friend, and though she had
+written once to the good farmer, she had only informed him
+that she had found a home and employment, without reference
+to any person or place. Edward asked to see the letter&mdash;it
+was brought, but the post-mark told no secret&mdash;it was that of
+the nearest post town, and the farmer, opening the letter, showed
+that Lucy had said she had requested the bearer to drop it into
+that office. Who that bearer was, none knew. Bitter was the
+disappointment of Edward Houstoun. A beautiful vision had
+crossed his path, had awakened his noblest impulses, kindled
+his passionate devotion, and then vanished for ever. But she
+had left ineradicable traces of her presence. His awakened
+energies, his passionate longings, his altered life, all gave assurance
+that she had been&mdash;that the bright ideal of womanly
+beauty and tenderness, and gentleness and firmness, which lived
+in his memory, was no dream of fancy. He anticipated little
+pleasure now from the pursuits on which he had lately determined,
+but his pride forbade him to relinquish them, and when
+once they had been commenced, finding in mental occupation
+his Lethe, he abandoned himself to them with all his accustomed
+ardor.</p>
+
+<p>Two years passed away with Edward Houstoun in the
+most intense intellectual action, and in death-like torpor of the
+affections. From the last his mother might have saved him,
+had not her want of sympathy with his pursuits occasioned a
+barrier of reserve and coolness to arise between them fatal to
+her influence. During this time no token of Lucy's existence
+had reached him: and it was with such a thrill as might have
+welcomed a visitant from the dead, that, one morning as he
+left his own house to proceed to the office in which he pursued<a class='page' name ='Page_211' id='Page_211' title='211'>&nbsp;</a>
+his studies, he saw before him at some distance, yet without
+any intervening object to interrupt his view of her, a form and
+face resembling hers, though thinner and paler. The lady was
+approaching him, with slow and languid steps; but as her
+eyes were fixed upon the ground she did not perceive him, and
+just as his throbbing heart exclaimed, "It is Lucy," and he
+sprang forward to greet her, she entered a house and the door
+closed on her. The inmates of that house were but slightly
+known to him, as they had only lately moved into the street,
+yet he hesitated not an instant in ringing the bell, and inquiring
+of the servant who presented himself at the door, for Miss
+Watson.</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Watson, sir?" repeated the man, "there is no such
+person living here."</p>
+
+<p>"She may not live here, but I saw her enter your door, and
+I wish to speak to her." At this moment Lucy crossed the
+hall at its further end, and he sprang forward, exclaiming
+"Lucy&mdash;Miss Watson&mdash;thank Heaven I see you once more!"</p>
+
+<p>A slight scream from Lucy, and the tremor which shook
+her frame, showed her recognition of him. She leaned for an
+instant against the wall, too faint for speech or action, while he
+clasped her hand in his; but a voice broke in upon his raptures
+and her agitation&mdash;a sharp, angry voice, coming from a
+lady who, leaning over the balustrade of the stairs, had seen
+and heard all that was passing below.</p>
+
+<p>"Lucy&mdash;Lucy&mdash;come up here&mdash;I am waiting for you&mdash;this
+is certainly very extraordinary conduct&mdash;very extraordinary
+indeed."</p>
+
+<p>"You shall not go," said Edward Houstoun, while the red
+blood flushed to his brow at the thought that his Lucy could
+be thus ordered. Lucy's face glowed too, and there was a
+proud flush from her eye, yet she resisted his efforts to detain
+her, and when he placed himself before her to prevent her<a class='page' name ='Page_212' id='Page_212' title='212'>&nbsp;</a>
+leaving him, she opened a door near her, and though he
+followed her quickly through it, he was just in time to see her
+rushing up a private staircase. He would not leave the house
+without an interview, and going into one of the parlors, he
+rang the bell, and requested to see Mrs. Blakely, the lady of
+the house. She came, looking very haughty and very angry.
+He apologized for his intrusion, but expressed a wish to see a
+young lady, Miss Watson, who was, he perceived, under her
+care. With a yet haughtier air, Mrs. Blakely replied, "I am
+not acquainted with any young <i>lady</i> of the name of Watson.
+Lucy Watson, the girl whom you met in the hall just now&mdash;is
+my seamstress. If you wish to see her, I will send her down
+to you, though I do not generally allow my servants to receive
+their visitors here."</p>
+
+<p>"I shall be happy to see her wherever you please," was Edward
+Houstoun's very truthful reply.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Blakely left him, and he stationed himself at the door
+to watch for Lucy. Minutes, which seemed to him hours,
+passed, and she came not. At length, as he was about to ring
+again, steps were heard approaching; he turned quickly, but
+it was not Lucy. The girl who entered handed him a sealed
+note. He tore it open and read&mdash;"I dare not see you. When
+you receive this I shall have left the house, and, as no one
+knows whither I have gone, questions would be useless."</p>
+
+<p>In an instant he was in the street, looking with eager eyes
+hither and thither for some trace of the lost one. He looked
+in vain, yet he went towards his office with happier feelings
+than he had long known. He knew now where Lucy was, and
+a thousand expedients suggested themselves, by which he could
+not fail to see her. If he could only converse with her for a
+few minutes, he was assured he could prevail on her to leave
+her present position, of which he could not for a moment bear
+to think. His heart swelled, his brow flushed, whenever the<a class='page' name ='Page_213' id='Page_213' title='213'>&nbsp;</a>
+remembrance of that position flashed upon his mind, yet he
+never for an instant regarded it as changing his relations with
+Lucy, or lessening his desire to call her his. He recollected
+with pleasure two circumstances which had scarcely been remarked
+at the moment of their occurrence. The man who
+had opened the door to him, when he saw him spring forward
+to meet Lucy, had exclaimed, "Oh! it was <i>Miss</i> Lucy you
+meant, sir;" and the girl who had handed the note had said,
+"<i>Miss</i> Lucy has gone out, sir." It was evident she was not
+regarded by the servants as one of themselves&mdash;she had not
+been degraded by association with menials. This was true.
+Lucy had made such separation on her part an indispensable
+necessity, and Mrs. Blakely had been too sensible of the value
+of one possessing so much taste and skill in all feminine adornments,
+to hesitate about complying with her demand. This lady
+was one of the <i>nouveaux riches</i>, who occupied her life in
+scheming to attain a position to which neither birth nor education
+entitled her. The brightest dream connected with her
+present abode had been that its proximity to Lady Houstoun's
+residence might lead to an acquaintance with one of the
+proudest of that charmed circle in which Mrs. Blakely longed
+to tread. Hitherto this had proved a dream indeed, but Edward
+Houstoun's incursion into her domain, and the developments
+made by it, might, she thought, with a little address,
+render it a reality. It was with this purpose that she sent a
+note to Lady Houstoun, requesting an interview with her on a
+subject deeply connected with the honor of her family and the
+happiness of her son. Immediately on despatching this note,
+the servants were ordered to uncover the furniture in the drawing-room,
+while she herself hastened to assume her most becoming
+morning dress. Her labors were fruitless. "Lady
+Houstoun would be at home to Mrs. Blakely till noon," was the
+scarcely courteous reply to her carefully worded note. It was<a class='page' name ='Page_214' id='Page_214' title='214'>&nbsp;</a>
+an occasion on which she could not afford to support her pride,
+and she availed herself of the permission to call.</p>
+
+<p>The interview between Lady Houstoun and Mrs. Blakely
+would have been an interesting study to the nice observer of character.
+The efforts on the part of the one lady to be condescending,
+and on that of the other to be dignified, were almost
+equally successful. Mrs. Blakely had seldom felt her wealth of
+so little consequence as in the presence of her commanding
+yet simply attired hostess, and Lady Houstoun had never been
+more disposed to assert the privileges of her rank, than when
+she heard that her son had forgotten his own so far as to visit
+on terms of equality&mdash;nay, if Mrs. Blakely were to be believed,
+positively to address in the style of a lover&mdash;a seamstress&mdash;the
+seamstress of Mrs. Blakely.</p>
+
+<p>"This is very painful intelligence to me, Mrs. Blakely&mdash;of
+course you must be aware that Mr. Houstoun could only have
+contemplated a temporary acquaintance with this girl. I do
+not fear that in his most reckless moment he could have
+thought of such a <i>m&eacute;salliance</i>&mdash;but this young woman must
+be saved&mdash;she was a <i>prot&eacute;g&eacute;</i> of Sir Edward Houstoun, and for
+his sake must not be allowed to come to harm&mdash;may I trouble
+you to send her to me?"</p>
+
+<p>The request was given very much in the style of a command.
+Mrs. Blakely would not confess that she had great
+doubts of her power to comply with it, but this would have
+been sufficiently evident to any one who had marked the uncertain
+air and softened tone with which Lady Houstoun's
+wishes were made known to Lucy. Indignant as she was at
+Mrs. Blakely's impertinent interference, Lucy scarcely regretted
+Lady Houstoun's acquaintance with her son's feelings. We do
+not know that far below all those acknowledged impulses leading
+her to comply with the lady's request, there did not lie
+some romantic hope that influences were astir through which</p>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table class='poem' border='0'><tr><td>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<a class='page' name ='Page_215' id='Page_215' title='215'>&nbsp;</a><span class="i0">"Pride might be quell'd and love be free,"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+</td></tr></table></div>
+
+<p>but this she did not whisper even to her own heart.</p>
+
+<p>"Better that the lady should know all&mdash;she will act both
+wisely and tenderly&mdash;perhaps for her son's sake, she will aid
+me to leave New-York." Such was the only language into
+which she allowed even her thought silently to form itself.</p>
+
+<p>Arranging her simple dress with as much care as though
+she were about to meet her lover himself, Lucy set out for her
+interview with Lady Houstoun. She had but a short distance
+to traverse, but she lingered on her way, oppressed by a tremulous
+anxiety. She was apprehensive of she knew not what
+or wherefore&mdash;for again and again her heart acquitted her of
+all blame. At length she is at the door&mdash;it opens, and, with
+a courtesy which the servants of Mrs. Blakely never show to a
+visitor who comes without carriage or attendants, she is ushered
+into the presence of Lady Houstoun. The lady fixes her eyes
+upon her as she enters, bows her head slightly in acknowledgment
+of her courtesy, and says coldly, "You are the young
+woman, I suppose, whom Mrs. Blakely was to send to me?"</p>
+
+<p>Lucy paused for a moment, to still the throbbing of her
+heart, before she attempted to reply. The thought flashed
+through her mind, "I am a woman, and young, and therefore
+she should pity me"&mdash;but she answered in a low, sweet, tremulous
+tone, "I am the Lucy Watson, madam, to whom Sir
+Edward Houstoun was so kind."</p>
+
+<p>At that name a softer expression stole over the Lady
+Houstoun's face, and she glanced quickly at a portrait hanging
+over the ample fireplace, which represented a gentleman of
+middle age, dressed in the uniform of a colonel of the American
+army. As she turned her eyes again on Lucy, she saw
+that hers were fastened on the same object.</p>
+
+<p>"You have seen Sir Edward?" she said in gentle tones.</p>
+
+<p><a class='page' name ='Page_216' id='Page_216' title='216'>&nbsp;</a>"Seen him, lady!&mdash;I loved him&mdash;oh how dearly!"</p>
+
+<p>"Honored him would be a more appropriate expression."</p>
+
+<p>"I loved him, lady&mdash;we are permitted to love our God,"
+said Lucy, firmly.</p>
+
+<p>Lady Houstoun's brow grew stern again.&mdash;"And from this
+you argue, doubtless, that you have a right to love his son."</p>
+
+<p>Lucy's pale face became crimson, and she bent her eyes to
+the ground without speaking&mdash;the lady continued&mdash;"I scarcely
+think that you could yourself have believed that Edward
+Houstoun intended to dishonor his family by a legal connection
+with you."</p>
+
+<p>The crimson deepened on Lucy's face, but it was now the
+flush of pride, and raising her head she met Lady Houstoun's
+eyes fully as she replied&mdash;"I could not believe that he ever
+designed to dishonor himself by ruining the orphan child of
+him who died in his father's defence."</p>
+
+<p>"And you have intended to avail yourself of his infatuation.
+The menial of Mrs. Blakely would be a worthy daughter,
+truly, of a house which has counted nobles among its members."</p>
+
+<p>"If I have resisted Mr. Houstoun's wishes&mdash;separated myself
+from him, and resigned all hope of even looking on his face
+again, it has not been from the slightest reverence for the nobility
+of his descent, but from self-respect, from a regard to the
+nobleness of my own spirit. I had eaten of your bread, lady,
+and I could not do that which might grieve you&mdash;yet the
+bread which had cost me so much became bitter to me, and I
+left the home you had provided to seek one by my own honest
+exertions. I have earned my bread, but not as a menial&mdash;not
+in the companionship of the vulgar&mdash;and this Mrs. Blakely
+could have told you."</p>
+
+<p>"If your determination were, as you say, to separate yourself
+from Mr. Houstoun, it is unfortunate that you should have
+taken up your residence so near us."</p>
+
+<p><a class='page' name ='Page_217' id='Page_217' title='217'>&nbsp;</a>"I knew not until this morning that I was near you."</p>
+
+<p>"If you are sincere in what you say, you will have no objection
+now to leave New-York."</p>
+
+<p>"I have no objection to go to any place in which I can
+support myself in peace."</p>
+
+<p>"As to supporting yourself, that is of no consequence. I
+will&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Pardon me, Lady Houstoun, it is of the utmost consequence
+to me. I cannot again live a dependent on your
+bounty."</p>
+
+<p>"What can you do? Has your education been such that
+you can take the situation of governess?"</p>
+
+<p>"Mr. Merton was a highly educated man, and Mrs. Merton
+an accomplished woman&mdash;it was their pleasure to teach me,
+and mine to learn from them."</p>
+
+<p>"Accomplished! There stands a harp which has just been
+tuned by a master for a little concert we are to have this
+evening. Can you play on it?"</p>
+
+<p>Lucy drew the instrument to her and played an overture
+correctly, yet with less spirit than she would have done had
+her fingers trembled less.</p>
+
+<p>"Can you sing?"</p>
+
+<p>Elevated above all apprehension by the indignant pride
+which this cold and haughty questioning aroused, Lucy
+changed the music of the overture for a touching air, and,
+sang, with a rich, full voice, a single stanza of an Italian
+song.</p>
+
+<p>"Italian! Do you understand it?"</p>
+
+<p>"I have read it with Mr. Merton."</p>
+
+<p>"This is fortunate. I have been for weeks in search of a
+governess for a friend residing in the country. I will order the
+carriage and take you there instantly&mdash;or stay&mdash;return home
+and put up your clothes. I will send a coach for you."</p>
+
+<p><a class='page' name ='Page_218' id='Page_218' title='218'>&nbsp;</a>Again Lucy had vanished from Edward Houstoun's world,
+nor could his most munificent bribes, nor most active cross-examination
+win any other information from Mrs. Blakely's
+household, than that "Miss Lucy went away in a carriage"&mdash;a
+carriage whose description presented a <i>fac simile</i> to every
+hackney-coach. Spite of all her precautions, he suspected his
+mother; to his consciousness of her want of sympathy with
+his pursuits, was therefore added a deep sense of injury, and
+his heart grew sterner, his manner colder and more reserved
+than ever. Two years more were passed in his studies, and a
+third in the long delays, the fruitless efforts which mark the
+entrance on any career of profitable exertion. During all this
+time, Lady Houstoun was studious to bring around him the
+loveliest daughters of affluence and rank. Graceful forms
+flitted through her halls, and the music of sweet voices and
+the gay laughter of innocent and happy hearts were heard
+within her rooms, but by all their attractions Edward Houstoun
+was unmoved. Courteous and bland to all, he never
+lingered by the side of one&mdash;no quick flush, no flashing beam
+told that even for a passing moment his heart was again awake.
+Could it be that from all this array of loveliness he was
+guarded by the memory of her who had stamped the impress
+of herself on his whole altered being? If the gratification of
+the man's sterner ambition could have atoned for the disappointment
+of the youth's dream of love, the shadow of that
+memory would have passed from his life. Step by step he had
+risen in the opinions of men, and at length one of the most
+profound lawyers of the day sought his association with himself
+in a case of the most intense interest, involving the honor
+of a lovely and much-wronged woman. His reputation out of
+the halls of justice had already become such that many thronged
+the court to hear him. Gallant gentlemen and fair ladies
+looked down on him from the galleries&mdash;but far apart from<a class='page' name ='Page_219' id='Page_219' title='219'>&nbsp;</a>
+these, in a distant corner, sat one whose tall form was enveloped
+in a cloak, and whose face was closely veiled. Beneath
+that cloak throbbed a mother's heart, and through that veil a
+mother's eyes sought the face she loved best on earth. He
+knew not she was there, for she rarely now asked a question
+respecting his engagements, or expressed any interest in his
+movements, yet how her ears drank in the music of his voice,
+and her eyes flashed back the proud light that shone in his!
+As she listened to his delineation of woman's claims to the
+sympathy and the defence of every generous heart, as she
+heard his biting sarcasm on the cowardly nature that, having
+wronged, would now crush into deeper ruin his fair client, as
+she saw kindling eyes fixed upon him, and caught, when he
+paused for a moment exhausted by the rush of indignant feeling,
+the low murmur of admiring crowds, how she longed to
+cry aloud, "My son&mdash;my son!" He speaks again. Higher
+and higher rises his lofty strain, bearing along with it the passions
+of the multitude. He ceases&mdash;and, as though touched
+by an electric shock, hundreds spring at once to their feet.
+The emphatic "Silence!" of the venerable judge hushes the
+shout upon their lips, but the mother has seen that movement,
+and, bursting into tears of proud triumphant joy, she finds her
+way below, and is in the street before the verdict which his
+eloquence had won was pronounced.</p>
+
+<p>Edward Houstoun had fitted up a room in his mother's
+house as a study, and over his accustomed seat hung his father's
+portrait. To that room he went on his return from the scene
+we have described. Beneath the portrait stood one who seldom
+entered there. She turned at the opening of the door&mdash;the
+lip, usually so firmly compressed, was quivering with emotion,
+and those stern eyes were full of tears. She advanced to
+him, drew near, and resting her head upon his shoulder whispered,
+"I, too, am a woman needing tenderness&mdash;shut not<a class='page' name ='Page_220' id='Page_220' title='220'>&nbsp;</a>
+your heart against me, my son, for without you I am alone in
+the world."</p>
+
+<p>The proud spirit had bent, the sealed fountain was opened,
+and as he clasped his arms around her, the tears of mother
+and son mingled; but amidst the joy of this reunion Edward
+Houstoun felt more deeply than he had done for long months
+the desolation that had fallen on his life. His heart had been
+silent&mdash;it now spoke again, and sad were its tones.</p>
+
+<p>It is summer. The courts are closed, and all who can are
+escaping from the city's heat to the cool, refreshing shades of
+the country. Woe to those who remain! The pestilence has
+stretched her wings over them. The shadow and the silence
+of death has fallen on their deserted streets. The yellow-fever
+is in New-York&mdash;introduced, it is said, by ships from the West
+Indies. Before it appeared Edward Houstoun was far away.
+He was travelling to recruit his exhausted powers&mdash;to Niagara,
+perhaps into Canada, and in the then slow progress of news
+he was little likely to be recalled by any intelligence from the
+city. His mother was one of the first who had sickened. And
+where were now the fair forms that had encircled her in health&mdash;where
+the servants who had administered with obsequious
+attention to her lightest wish? All had fled, for no gratified
+vanity&mdash;no low cupidity can give courage for attendance on the
+bed of one in whose breath death is supposed to lurk. The
+devotedness of love, the self-sacrifice of Christian Charity, are
+the only impulses for such a deed. Yet over the sufferer is
+bending one whose form in its perfect development has richly
+fulfilled its early promise, and whose face is more beautiful in
+the gentle strength and thoughtfulness of womanhood than it
+had been in all its early brightness. In her peaceful home,
+where the reverent love of her young pupils and the confidence
+of their parents had made her happy, Lucy had heard from
+one of Lady Houstoun's terrified domestics of the condition in<a class='page' name ='Page_221' id='Page_221' title='221'>&nbsp;</a>
+which she had been left, and few hours sufficed to bring her to
+her side. Days and nights of the most assiduous watchfulness,
+cheered by no companionship, followed, and then the physician,
+as he stood beside his patient and marked her regular
+breathing, her placid sleep, and the moisture on her brow, whispered,
+"You have saved her."</p>
+
+<p>We will not linger to describe the emotion with which
+Lady Houstoun, awakening from this long and tranquil slumber,
+exhausted, but no longer delirious, first recognised her
+nurse. At first, no doubt, painful recollections were aroused,
+but with the feebleness of childhood had returned much of its
+gentleness and susceptibility, and Lucy was at once so tender
+and so cheerful, that very soon her ministerings were received
+with unalloyed pleasure.</p>
+
+<p>Sickness is a heavenly teacher to those who will open their
+hearts to her. Lady Houstoun arose to a new life. She had
+stood so near to death that she seemed to have looked upon
+earth in the light of eternity. In that light, rank and title, with
+all their lofty associations and splendid accompaniments, faded
+away, while true nobleness, the nobleness which dwells in the
+Christian precept "Love your enemies&mdash;do good to those that
+despitefully use you," stood out in all its beauty and excellence.</p>
+
+<p>As soon as Lady Houstoun could be removed with safety,
+she went, by the advice of her physician, to her country-seat.
+Lucy would now have returned to her pupils&mdash;she feared every
+day lest Edward Houstoun should appear, and a new contest
+be necessary with his feelings and her own&mdash;but Lady Houstoun
+still pleaded her imperfectly restored health as reason for another
+week's delay, and Lucy could not resist her pleadings.</p>
+
+<p>It was afternoon, and Lucy sat in the library, which was
+in the rear of the house, far removed from its public entrance.
+Spenser's Faery Queen was in her hand, but she had turned
+from its witching pages to gaze upon the title-page, on which<a class='page' name ='Page_222' id='Page_222' title='222'>&nbsp;</a>
+was written, in Edward Houstoun's hand, "June 24th, 18&mdash;."
+It was the day, as Lucy well remembered, on which he had
+first revealed his love, and chosen his career in life. She was
+aroused from her reverie by Lady Houstoun's entrance. As she
+held the door open, the bright sunlight from an opposite window
+threw a shadow on the floor which made Lucy's heart
+throb painfully. She looked eagerly forward&mdash;a manly form
+entered and stood before her. She could not turn from the
+pleading eyes which were fixed with such intense earnestness
+on hers. With a bewildered half-conscious air she rose from
+her chair. He came near her and extended his arms. One
+glance at the smiling Lady Houstoun showed Lucy that her
+interdict was removed, and the next instant she lay in speechless
+joy once more upon her lover's bosom.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a class='page' name ='Page_223' id='Page_223' title='223'>&nbsp;</a><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a><a href="#CONTENTS">CHAPTER XIII.</a></h2>
+
+
+<p>We were within three days of the New Year. Mr. Arlington,
+who was quite learned on the subject, had been amusing us
+with an account of its various modes of celebration in various
+countries. He was perfectly brilliant in a description of New-York
+as seen under the sun of a clear, frosty New-Year's morning,
+with snow enough to make the sleighing good. The gay, fantastic
+sleighs, dashing hither and thither, and their exhilarated
+occupants bowing now on this side and now on that, to acquaintances
+rushing by almost too rapidly to be distinguished,
+while the silvery bells ring out their merry peals on the still
+air. Then the festive array which greets the caller at every
+house within which he enters. Beauty adorned with smiles
+and dress, gayly decorated tables, brightly burning fires, and
+every thing seeming to speak the welcome not of mere form,
+but of hearty hospitality. There is one aspect in which he
+presents this day to us, that is peculiarly pleasing. He says,
+that many a slight estrangement, springing from some one of
+those "trifles" which "make the sum of human life," has been
+prevented, by the influence of this day, from becoming a life-long
+enmity. Thus the New-Year's day becomes a Peace-maker,
+and has on it the blessing of Heaven. Long live the
+custom which has made it such!</p>
+
+<p>"And how shall we celebrate our New-Year?" asked Col.
+Donaldson.</p>
+
+<p><a class='page' name ='Page_224' id='Page_224' title='224'>&nbsp;</a>"Let us introduce the New-York custom," suggested one.</p>
+
+<p>"That would not do without some previous agreement with
+your neighbors," replied Mr. Arlington, "as their ladies would
+not probably be prepared for your visits, and while you were
+making them, the ladies of your own family would be left to
+entertain themselves as they could."</p>
+
+<p>"That will never do," said Col. Donaldson; "better invite
+all our neighbors to visit us on that day. Suppose we give
+them a dinner?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, papa!" cried Miss Donaldson in dismay. And "My
+dear husband!" ejaculated the smiling Mrs. Donaldson, "where
+would you find room to accommodate them all?"</p>
+
+<p>"True&mdash;true&mdash;we could not dine them in the open air at
+this season."</p>
+
+<p>"But there would be no such objection to an evening
+party," said one of the young Donaldsons. "We have fine
+sleighing now, and the moon rises only a little after eight on
+New-Year's evening; why not invite them for the evening."</p>
+
+<p>"What, another such stiff affair as Annie insisted on entertaining
+her friends the Misses Morrison with the last winter,
+when I saw one of the poor girls actually clap her hands with
+delight at the announcement of her carriage?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, no! Leave it to me, and it shall not be a stiff affair
+at all. We will appear in fancy dresses&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"My dear Philip!" remonstrated Mrs. Donaldson.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! not you, my dear mother, nor my father, unless he
+should like it&mdash;indeed, it shall be optional with all&mdash;but enough,
+I am sure, will like to make it an entertaining variety."</p>
+
+<p>"But where shall we get fancy dresses, distant as we are
+from the city?" asked Annie.</p>
+
+<p>"Leave yours to me, Annie, I have it ready for you," said
+Philip Donaldson, with so significant an air, that I at once suspected
+this suggestion to have been the result of the arrival on<a class='page' name ='Page_225' id='Page_225' title='225'>&nbsp;</a>
+that very day of a box, addressed to him by a ship from Constantinople,
+of which he had hitherto made a great mystery.</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you, Philip; but you cannot, I suppose, supply all
+the company, and I had rather not be the only one in fancy
+costume, if you please."</p>
+
+<p>"If mamma will surrender to me the key of that great
+wardrobe, up stairs, which contains the brocade dresses, shoe-buckles,
+knee-buckles, etc., of our great-grandfathers and grandmothers,
+I will promise to supply dresses for our own party, at
+least, with a little aid from the needles and scissors."</p>
+
+<p>"I bar scissors," cried Col. Donaldson. "Those venerable
+heir-looms&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Shall not lose a shred, sir," said Philip; "the scissors
+shall only be used to cut the threads, with which the ladies
+take in a reef here and there, when it is necessary."</p>
+
+<p>"But you have provided only for our party. Are our
+guests not to be in costume?"</p>
+
+<p>"That may be as they please. We will express the wish,
+and if they have any ingenuity, they can have no difficulty in
+getting up some of the staple characters of such a scene, flower-girls
+and shepherdesses, sailors, sultans, and beggars."</p>
+
+<p>The scheme seemed feasible enough, when thus presented,
+and had sufficient novelty to please the young people. It was
+accordingly adopted, and the evening was passed in writing invitations,
+which were dispatched at an early hour the next
+morning. The three succeeding days were days of pleasurable
+excitement, in preparation for the f&ecirc;te. Needles and scissors
+were both in active use, and the brocade dresses lost, I am
+afraid, more than one shred in the process of adjusting them
+to the figures for which they were now designed. Mrs. Dudley
+and Mrs. Seagrove were thus arranged as rival beauties of the
+court of Queen Anne. Philip Donaldson, with the aid of a
+bag-wig, for which Mr. Arlington has written at his request to<a class='page' name ='Page_226' id='Page_226' title='226'>&nbsp;</a>
+a friend, in what city I may not say, and with some of his
+father's youthful finery, and the shoe and knee-buckles aforesaid,
+will make an excellent beau for these belles. Col. Donaldson,
+always ready for any harmless mirth, says they must accept
+him in his father's continental uniform for another. Mr. Arlington
+makes quite a mystery of his costume, but it is a mystery
+already revealed, both to Col. Donaldson and Philip, as I
+can plainly perceive by the significant glances they exchange
+whenever an allusion is made to it. Robert Dudley is to be a
+page, Charles Seagrove, a beautiful boy of six years old, an
+Oberon, and our little Eva a Titania. Mrs. Donaldson and I
+were permitted to appear in our usual dress, and Miss Donaldson
+strenuously claimed the same privilege, but it was not allowed.
+She resisted all entreaties, even from her favorite brother
+Arthur; but when her father gravely regretted her inability
+to sympathize with the enjoyments of others, she was overcome.
+Having yielded, she yielded entirely, and was willing to wear
+anything her sisters wished. As she is considered by them all,
+even in her thirty-third year, as the beauty of the family, her
+dress has been more carefully studied by them than any other.
+Every book of costumes within their reach was searched for it
+again and again, without success; one was rich, but unbecoming,
+another pretty, but it did not suit her style, and a third all
+they desired, but unattainable at so short a notice. As a last
+resource, my engravings were resorted to, and there, to my own
+surprise, they found what satisfied all their demands. One of
+the historical prints showed the dress worn in her bridal days
+by Hotspur's Kate. Miss Donaldson accepted it thankfully, as
+being less <i>bizarre</i> than any yet proposed to her, requiring nothing
+more than a full skirt of white satin, a jacket not very
+unlike the modern Polka, and a bridal veil. One condition she
+insisted on, however, namely, that Arthur should be her Hotspur.
+To this he consented without difficulty, not without an<a class='page' name ='Page_227' id='Page_227' title='227'>&nbsp;</a>
+eye, I suspect, to the appearance of his tall, erect, graceful
+form and bearing in such a dress as Hotspur's.</p>
+
+<p>The last evening of the Old Year had arrived, our preparations
+were completed, and our little party were experiencing
+something of that <i>ennui</i> which results from having nothing to
+do, when, in putting away the materials lately in use, Annie
+took up my engraving of Hotspur and Kate. Handing it to
+me, she said. "I know these engravings are precious, Aunt
+Nancy, though what can be the association with this one, I am,
+I acknowledge, at a loss to conceive."</p>
+
+<p>"And yet it is a very simple one. I treasure it in memory
+of my friend Harry Percy and his bride."</p>
+
+<p>"What! Hotspur?" questioned Annie with dilating eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"Not quite, though he was a lineal descendant of the old
+Percys, and hot enough on occasion, too."</p>
+
+<p>"You mean Colonel Percy of the British army, who married
+Miss Sinclair, of Havre de Grace, during our last war with
+England, or immediately after it, I never quite understood
+which. There seemed some mystery about the marriage, and I
+did not like to inquire too closely, but I dare say now, Aunt
+Nancy, you can tell us all about it."</p>
+
+<p>"I believe I can. See Annie, if among these packages you
+can find one labelled 'The Test of Love.'"</p>
+
+<p>"What! another story of a proud beauty winning her
+glove and losing her lover?" asked Mr. Arlington.</p>
+
+<p>"No; my test, or rather my hero's test, was somewhat different,"
+I replied, as I received the package from Annie, and
+read,</p>
+
+
+<h3><a name="THE_TEST_OF_LOVE" id="THE_TEST_OF_LOVE"></a><a href="#CONTENTS">THE TEST OF LOVE:</a></h3>
+
+<h4>A STORY OF THE LAST WAR.</h4>
+
+<p>When Mr. Sinclair, the rector of St John's, in Havre de Grace
+took possession of his pretty parsonage, and persuaded the<a class='page' name ='Page_228' id='Page_228' title='228'>&nbsp;</a>
+fair and gentle Lucy Hillman to preside over his unpretending
+<i>m&eacute;nage</i>, and to share the comforts that lay within the compass
+of his stipend of one thousand dollars per annum, he felt that
+his largest earthly desires were fulfilled. A daughter was given
+to him, and with a grateful heart he exclaimed&mdash;"Surely Thou
+hast made my cup to overflow."</p>
+
+<p>But he too was a man "born to trouble." He too must
+be initiated into those "sacred mysteries of sorrow," through
+which the High-priest of his profession had passed. In the
+succeeding ten years, three other children opened their soft,
+loving eyes in his home, made its air musical with their glad
+voices and ringing laughter, and just as he had learned to listen
+for the pattering of their dimpled foot, and his heart had
+throbbed joyously to their call, they were borne from his arms
+to the grave, and the echoes which they had awakened in his
+soul were hushed for ever. Still his Lucy and their first-born
+were spared, and as he drew them closer to his heart he could
+"lift his trusting eyes" to Him from whom his faith taught
+him no real evil could come to the loving spirit. The shadow
+of earth had fallen on his heart, but the light of heaven still
+beamed brightly there. Years passed with Mr. Sinclair in that
+deep quiet of the soul which is "the sober certainty of waking
+bliss." His labors were labors of love, and he was welcomed
+to repose by all those charms which woman's taste and woman's
+tenderness can bring clustering around the home of him to
+whom her heart is devoted. But a darker trial than any he
+had yet known awaited him.</p>
+
+<p>War is in our borders, and that quiet town in which Mr.
+Sinclair's life has passed is destined to feel its heaviest curse.
+Its streets are filled with soldiery. The dark canopy of smoke
+from which now and then a lurid flame shoots upward, shows
+that their work is destruction, and that they will do it well.
+Terrified women flit hither and thither, mingling their shrieks<a class='page' name ='Page_229' id='Page_229' title='229'>&nbsp;</a>
+in a wild and fiend-like concert with the crack of musketry,
+the falling of houses, and the loud huzzas and fierce outcries of
+excited men. At a distance from that quarter in which the
+strife commenced, stands a simple village church, within whose
+shadow many of those who had worshipped in its walls during
+the last half century, have lain down to rest from the toils of
+life. No proud mausoleum shuts the sunshine from those lowly
+graves. Drooping elms and willows bend over them, and
+the whispering of their long pendent branches, as the summer
+breeze sweeps them hither and thither, is the only sound that
+breaks the stillness of that hallowed air. Near the church, on
+the opposite side from this home of the dead, lies a garden,
+whose roses and honey-suckles perfume the air, while its bowers
+of lilac and laburnum, of myrtle and jessamine, almost
+shut from the view the pretty cottage to which it belongs. All
+around, all within that cottage, is silent. Have its inmates
+fled?</p>
+
+<p>The neighboring houses have been long deserted, and those
+who left them would gladly have persuaded their pastor to accompany
+them; but when they called to urge his doing so, he
+could only point to the bed on which, already bereft of sense,
+and evidently fast passing from life, lay one "all lovely to the
+last." Mrs. Sinclair's health, delicate for years, had rapidly
+failed in the last few months, till her anxious husband and child,
+aware that a moment's acceleration of the pulse, a moment's
+quickening of the breath from whatever cause, might snatch
+her from their arms, learned to modulate every tone, to guard
+every look and movement in her presence. But they could
+not shut from her ears the boom of the cannon which heralded
+the approach of the foe&mdash;they could not hush the startling
+cries with which others met the announcement of their
+arrival, and the first evidences of that savage fury which
+desolated their homes, and left a dark stain on the escutcheon<a class='page' name ='Page_230' id='Page_230' title='230'>&nbsp;</a>
+of Britain. Mrs. Sinclair uttered no cry when her terrors were
+thus excited, she even strove to smile upon her loved ones, to
+raise their drooping hearts; and in this, woman's holiest task,
+the springs of her life gave way&mdash;not with a sudden snap, but
+slowly, gently&mdash;so that for hours her husband and daughter
+stood watching the shadow of death steal over her, hoping yet
+to catch one glance of love, one whispered farewell ere she
+should pass for ever from them.</p>
+
+<p>"Fear not, my child," said Mr. Sinclair, when their sad
+vigils were first interrupted by those who urged their flight&mdash;"they
+are enemies, it is true, but they are Englishmen, a peaceful
+clergyman, a defenceless woman, are safe in their hands&mdash;they
+will not harm us."</p>
+
+<p>"I have no fear, no thought of them, father!" said Mary
+Sinclair, as she turned weeping to the only object of fear, or
+hope, or thought, at that moment.</p>
+
+<p>But soon others of Mr. Sinclair's parishioners came to warn
+him that his confidence had been misplaced, that no character,
+no age, no sex, had proved a protection from the ruthless fury
+of their assailants. He would now have persuaded his daughter
+to accompany her friends to a place of safety, and when
+persuasions proved vain he would have commanded her, but,
+lifting her calm eyes to his, she said, "Father have you not
+taught me that, in all God's universe, the only safe place for us
+is that to which our duty calls us&mdash;and is not my duty here?"</p>
+
+<p>A colder heart would have argued with her, and might,
+perhaps, have proved to her that her duty was not there&mdash;that
+her father could watch the dying, and that it was her duty
+to preserve herself for him; but Mr. Sinclair folded her in his
+arms while his lips moved for an instant in earnest prayer, and
+then, turning to his waiting friends, he said, "Go, go, my
+friends&mdash;I thank you&mdash;but God has called us to this, and he will
+care for us."</p>
+
+<p><a class='page' name ='Page_231' id='Page_231' title='231'>&nbsp;</a>When the work of desolation had been completed in the
+quarter first attacked, parties of soldiers straggled off from the
+main body in search of further prey. Fearful was it to
+meet these men&mdash;their faces blackened with smoke, their hands
+stained with blood, fierce frowns upon their brows, and curses
+on their lips. The parsonage presented little attraction in its
+external aspect to men whose object was plunder, and they
+turned first to larger and more showy buildings. These were
+soon rifled; the noise of their ribald songs, their blasphemous
+oaths and drunken revelry penetrating often the chamber of
+death, yet scarcely awakening an emotion in the presence of
+the great Destroyer. At length the little gate is flung rudely
+open, and unsteady but heavy steps ascend from the court-yard
+to the house. They cross the piazza, they enter the parlor
+where life's gentlest courtesies and holiest affections have hitherto
+dwelt, the door of the room beyond is thrown open, and
+two men stand upon its threshold, sobered for an instant by the
+scene before them. There, pale, emaciated, the dim eyes closed,
+and the face wearing that unearthly beauty which seems the
+token of an adieu too fond, too tender, too sacred for human
+language, from the parting spirit to its loved ones, the wife and
+mother, speechless, senseless, yet not quite lifeless, lay propped
+by pillows. At her side knelt Mr. Sinclair; the pallor of deep,
+overpowering emotion was on his cheek, yet in his lifted eyes
+there was an expression of holy faith, and you might almost
+have fancied that a smile lay upon the lips which were breathing
+forth the hallowed strains of prayer&mdash;"Save and deliver us, we
+humbly beseech Thee, from the hands of our enemies, that we,
+being armed with thy defence, may be preserved evermore
+from all perils, to glorify Thee, who art the only giver of all
+victory, through the merits of thy Son, Jesus Christ our Lord&mdash;Amen."</p>
+
+<p>Dark, sinful men as they were, fresh from brutal crime,<a class='page' name ='Page_232' id='Page_232' title='232'>&nbsp;</a>
+those strains touched a long silent chord in their hearts&mdash;a
+chord linked with the memory of a smiling village in their own
+distant land&mdash;with a mother's love and the innocence of childhood.
+Faint&mdash;faint, alas! were those memories, and Mr. Sinclair's
+"amen" had scarcely issued from his lips, when the eyes
+of the leader rested on the beautiful face of Mary Sinclair, as,
+pressed to the side of her father, she stretched her arms out
+over her dying mother, and turned her eyes imploringly on
+their dreaded visitors. The ruffians sprang forward with words
+whose meaning was happily lost to the failing sense of the
+terror-stricken girl. Mr. Sinclair started to his feet, and with
+one arm still clasped around his daughter, stood between her
+and the worse than murderers before him, prepared to defend
+her with his life. For the first time he thirsted for blood, and
+looked around for some weapon of destruction&mdash;but his was the
+abode of peace&mdash;no weapon was there. Unarmed, with that
+loved burden&mdash;loved at this moment even to agony, resting
+upon him&mdash;he stood opposed to two fierce men armed to the
+teeth. A father's strength in such a cause, who shall estimate?&mdash;yet,
+alas! his adversaries were demons, relentless in purpose,
+and possessed of that superhuman force which passion gives.
+Weary of killing, or influenced by that superstition which
+sometimes rules the soul from which religion is wholly banished,
+they did not avail themselves of their swords. With
+fierce threats they unclasped his arm from that senseless form,
+which sank instantly to the floor at his feet, and drew him
+across the room. They would have forced him into the parlor,
+but his resistance was desperate, and ere they could accomplish
+this, the sound of a drum beating the recall was borne faintly
+to their ears. Leaving his comrade to hold the wildly struggling
+father, the bolder ruffian turned back toward the still
+prostrate Mary. At that moment, before she had been polluted
+by a touch, the door was thrown violently back, and a tall,<a class='page' name ='Page_233' id='Page_233' title='233'>&nbsp;</a>
+manly form strode through it. The gilded epaulettes and
+drooping feather told his rank, before the step of pride and
+countenance of stern command had conveyed to the mind the
+conviction that you stood in the presence of one accustomed to
+be obeyed. The man who grasped Mr. Sinclair loosened his
+hold and shrank cowering away. He went unnoticed, for the
+eye of the officer had fallen upon him who was in the act of
+stooping to lift Mary Sinclair from the floor. With a single
+spring he was at his side, and catching him by the collar of
+his coat, he hurled him from him with such force that he fell
+stunned against the farther wall. Mr. Sinclair was already
+bending over his daughter. As he raised her on his arm her
+head fell back, exposing her face, around which her dark hair
+swept in dense masses. Her features were of chiselled beauty,
+and had they been indeed of marble they could not have been
+more bloodless in their hue, while her jetty lashes lay as still
+upon her cheek as though the hand of death had sealed her
+eyes for ever. Mr. Sinclair had no such fear. He knew that she
+had only fainted, and rejoiced that God in his mercy had
+spared her the worst horrors of the scene; but as Captain
+Percy's eyes rested on her, a deeper scowl settled on his brow,
+and in a hoarse whisper he asked:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Have they harmed her, sir?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not by a touch, thank God! not by a touch!" exclaimed
+the father, as he pressed her with passionate joy to his heart&mdash;ay,
+joy, even in the presence of her so long the light of his
+life now passing for ever from earth. For a few minutes the
+dying had been forgotten, for what was death&mdash;a death of
+peace&mdash;to the long misery into which man's base, brutal passion
+would have converted the life of that pure and lovely girl?
+Now, however, she was safe, and still supporting her on his
+arm, Mr. Sinclair turned to his wife and tenderly moistened her
+parched lips. What a mockery of all human cares seemed that<a class='page' name ='Page_234' id='Page_234' title='234'>&nbsp;</a>
+pale, peaceful brow&mdash;peaceful, while he whose lightest sorrow
+had thrown a shadow on her life was suffering anguish inexpressible,
+and the child who had lain in her bosom, to the
+lightest throb of whose heart her own had answered, lay senseless
+from terror in his arms. It was a scene to touch the hardest
+heart, and Captain Percy's heart was not hard. He looked
+around for the men whom he had interrupted in their hellish
+designs&mdash;they were not there.</p>
+
+<p>"Is this their work?" he asked of Mr. Sinclair, pointing to
+his scarcely breathing wife.</p>
+
+<p>"No&mdash;no&mdash;this is the gentle hand of our Father," said Mr.
+Sinclair, as he bent his head and touched with his lips the
+sunken cheek dearer to him now than it had been in all its
+girlish roundness. The blood had begun to cast a slight tinge
+of red into the lips of Mary Sinclair before Captain Percy had
+left the room in search of the men whom he was unwilling to
+leave behind him, and when he returned, the tremor of her
+form and the close clasp with which she clung to her father,
+proved that her consciousness and her memory were awake.
+His step had startled her, and as he entered he heard Mr.
+Sinclair say, "Fear not, my daughter, that is the step of your
+deliverer, and though he is an English soldier&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I pray you, sir, judge not Englishmen by ruffians like
+these&mdash;a disgrace to the name of man. Believe me, every
+country has within it wretches, who, at moments such as this,
+when all social restraints are withdrawn, become demons. But
+I must leave you, in safety, I trust, as I have sent to the ships
+all the soldiers whom I could discover in your neighborhood."</p>
+
+<p>"Farewell, sir," said Mr. Sinclair, extending his hand&mdash;"God
+reward you for the timely aid you have this day brought
+to the defenceless. Look up, my child, and join your thanks
+with mine."</p>
+
+<p>Mary Sinclair raised her head from her father's bosom, and<a class='page' name ='Page_235' id='Page_235' title='235'>&nbsp;</a>
+lifting her eyes for an instant to the face of Captain Percy, unclosed
+her lips to speak, but voice and words were denied her.</p>
+
+<p>"God bless you, lady!" he exclaimed, as taking her hand
+he raised it to his lips, and relinquishing it with one glance of
+sympathy at the dying, turned away and passed from the room.
+He returned once more, but it was only to leave his pistols with
+Mr. Sinclair.</p>
+
+<p>"They are loaded, sir, and in such a cause as you needed
+them just now, even a Christian minister may use them."</p>
+
+<p>Captain Percy spoke rapidly, only glancing at Mary, who
+was already bending with self-forgetful devotion above her mother's
+pillow, and before Mr. Sinclair could answer he was
+gone.</p>
+
+<p>All was again silent in that deserted suburb, and for long
+hours nothing disturbed the solemn stillness of the chamber of
+death, save the low sob or earnest prayer of parting love, though
+sounds of tumult had not ceased wholly in the village. The
+invaders had been interrupted in their work of destruction by
+an alarm from some of their own party of an approaching foe.
+They hurried to their ships with mad impetuosity, conscious that
+their acts deserved only war to the knife, and that they were not
+prepared to cope with any regular force. Only they, who, like
+Captain Percy, had held themselves aloof from the brutal barbarities
+which they had striven vainly to prevent, were now
+composed enough to take any steps for the safety of others.
+To collect those who had straggled off was the first business,
+and while the recall was hastily beaten, Captain Percy, selecting
+a small party of men on whom he could depend, went to patrol
+the more distant quarters of the town. Having seen no trace
+of an enemy on his way to the parsonage, he had somewhat
+hastily concluded the alarm to be false, and therefore did not
+hesitate, before returning with his pistols to Mr. Sinclair, to send
+forward his men in charge of those whom he had found, promis<a class='page' name ='Page_236' id='Page_236' title='236'>&nbsp;</a>ing
+to join them before they reached the point of embarcation.
+Without a thought of danger he traversed the silent and deserted
+streets on his return, and had arrived where a single turn
+would bring him within view of the rallying point of his companions
+in arms, when the sound that met his practised ears
+told of something more than the hurrying tread and mingling
+voices of soldiers rapidly embarking. Had his men been opposed?
+If so, they should not be without a leader&mdash;and with
+that thought he sprang forward. He was too late. Already
+they had fought their way through the band of villagers, who,
+maddened by the desolation of their homes, had gathered together
+such weapons as they could, and led on by one gallant
+and experienced soldier, whom their burning houses had lighted
+to their aid, were seeking to cut off the retreat of some amongst
+their invaders, and thus to revenge those whom they had been
+unable to protect. Captain Percy's men had, as we have said,
+fought their way through this band&mdash;not without loss. He
+now stood alone&mdash;one against many&mdash;with only his good
+sword to aid, for his pistols he had given to Mr. Sinclair. To
+retreat unobserved was impossible, for his own cry of "Forward&mdash;forward,
+my men!" uttered as he rushed to the scene of the
+just decided contest, had betrayed him&mdash;to fight against such
+odds with the faintest hope of success was equally impossible,
+and to yield was an alternative which there seemed to be no
+intention of offering him. In an instant twenty swords flashed
+before his eyes&mdash;twenty muskets were pointed at his breast.
+That instant had been his last had not Major Scott, the leader
+of whom we have spoken, sprang forward and placed himself
+before him. Himself a brave and generous soldier, he could
+not tamely witness such butchery; and pale with the terror for
+another which he had never felt for himself, he exclaimed,
+"Yield yourself, sir, quickly&mdash;a moment's delay, and I cannot
+protect you."</p>
+
+<p><a class='page' name ='Page_237' id='Page_237' title='237'>&nbsp;</a>Captain Percy's sword was in the hand of his noble foe,
+who, linking his arm in his, turned to face his own band, shouting
+as he did so, "Back&mdash;back on your lives&mdash;he is my prisoner,
+and who touches him makes me his enemy."</p>
+
+<p>The day had passed with all its exciting incidents. The
+glow of sunset had faded into twilight's soberer hues, and these
+had deepened into the darkness of night. With the darkness
+silence had settled upon the streets of Havre de Grace. They
+who had trodden, for hours, with burning hearts around the
+sites of their desecrated homes, retired to the house of some
+charitable and more fortunate neighbor, to seek such rest as
+misery may hope. They went with sullen as well as sad brows,
+and as they passed one house in the village they muttered
+"curses not loud, but deep." This was the house in which Major
+Scott had found a refuge for himself and the prisoner, whom
+all his influence had scarcely been able to protect. To remove
+him from Havre de Grace in the light of day, and under the
+eyes of his infuriated enemies, was too hazardous a project to be
+attempted; and by the advice of some who seemed disposed to
+second his efforts for his safety, he had delayed his departure
+till night should veil the obnoxious features of the British
+officer.</p>
+
+<p>At the parsonage, death had accomplished his work, and
+the room in which we have already seen Mr. Sinclair, bears the
+solemn impress of his presence. Beside the bed on which the
+lifeless limbs have been composed with tender care, the pastor
+kneels. His prayer is no longer, "Let this cup pass from me"&mdash;he
+is struggling for power to say, "Father, not my will, but
+Thine be done!" In an upper room lies Mary Sinclair. Tears
+are falling fast as summer rain-drops from her closed eyes; but
+she utters neither sob nor moan, and by the dim light of the
+shaded lamp she seems to the two women, who, with well-meant
+but officious kindness, have insisted on watching with<a class='page' name ='Page_238' id='Page_238' title='238'>&nbsp;</a>
+her through the night, to sleep. A slight noise in the street
+causes one of these women to start, and she whispers to the
+other, "I am 'feard of every thing to-night&mdash;the least noise
+puts me all of a trimble, for I'm thinking of my Jack. He's
+gone to guard that British soger, and I shouldn't wonder if he
+had a skrimmage about him before morning."</p>
+
+<p>"And I must say, Miss Dunham, if he did, it would be
+nothin' more than them deserves us would go for to guard them
+cruel British."</p>
+
+<p>"But they do say, Miss Caxton, that this Capin&mdash;for Jack
+says he is a Capin&mdash;was better than the rest&mdash;that he took the
+part of our people every where when he found there wasn't any
+fair fight, and that he was drivin' his men to the ships when we
+caught him."</p>
+
+<p>"Them may believe that that will, but for my part I think
+that it must be a poor, mean speritted American that will hold
+guard over one of them British&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Not so mean speritted as you think perhaps," said Jack's
+mother with a flushed face.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I must say, Miss Dunham, I never thought Jack
+would do such a thing&mdash;if I had&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Miss Caxton stopped abruptly, but her companion would
+hear the whole&mdash;"Well ma'am, if you had&mdash;what if you had?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, then, Miss Dunham, I shouldn't have been so well
+pleased to see him keepin' company with my Sarah&mdash;but after
+this, of course, that's at an end."</p>
+
+<p>"May be, Miss Caxton, you may think to-morrow mornin'
+that it would have been just as well to wait till the night was
+gone before you said that&mdash;when you see the British Capin
+hanging by the neck in his fine regimentals, and hear that his
+guard were the men that did it&mdash;as I know they've sworn to
+do&mdash;you may think after all they an't so mean speritted."</p>
+
+<p>"Miss Dunham! if they'll do that, I'll unsay every word<a class='page' name ='Page_239' id='Page_239' title='239'>&nbsp;</a>
+I've said, and proud enough I would be to call one of 'em my
+son-in-law&mdash;but now do tell me all about it&mdash;she's asleep you
+see," glancing at Mary Sinclair, "and there an't nobody to
+hear."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, there an't much to tell. You see the Major wouldn't
+give way any how at all about this here man&mdash;so, as they
+didn't want to fight <i>him</i>, they agreed that some of the real
+true blues who an't afeard of nothin', should seem to help the
+Major and persuade him to keep the man here till late in the
+night, and that they would guard him&mdash;but they were to take
+care to have the key of his room, and when the Major goes
+there he'll find it empty, or at best only a bloody corpse there.
+They'll hang him if they can get him out of the window without
+too much noise, but if there's any danger of his waking the
+Major with his screeching, they'll stop his voice quick enough."</p>
+
+<p>Any further conversation between these discreet watchers
+was prevented by a sudden movement on the part of Mary
+Sinclair. Springing from her bed she was hastening to the
+door when her steps were arrested.</p>
+
+<p>"Dear me, Miss Mary! where are you going? Now do
+lie down again, my dear young lady!&mdash;be patient&mdash;it's the
+Lord's will, you know." Such were the remonstrances of her
+officious attendants, while, one on either side, they strove to lead
+her back again, but Mary persisted.</p>
+
+<p>"I must go to my father, Mrs. Dunham, pray let me go,
+Mrs. Caxton, I must speak to my father."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, then, my good young lady, just put your wrapping
+gown around you first, and put your feet in these slippers."</p>
+
+<p>Mary complied silently, and then was suffered to proceed.
+Rapidly she flew to her father's room&mdash;it was unoccupied, and
+a glance at his bed showed her that it had not been disturbed.
+Mary was at no loss to conjecture where she should find her
+father&mdash;but as she approached <i>that</i> room her steps grew slower,<a class='page' name ='Page_240' id='Page_240' title='240'>&nbsp;</a>
+lighter&mdash;she was treading on holy ground. With difficulty
+she nerved herself to turn the latch of the door, and in an awed
+whisper she entreated her father to come to her. Mr. Sinclair
+rose from his knees, but he lingered a moment to cast one look
+on that still lovely face, to press his lips to that cold brow, and
+then, reverently veiling it, he approached his daughter.</p>
+
+<p>"Come quickly, papa!&mdash;not a moment is to be lost if you
+would save him from death, and such a death&mdash;oh, papa, papa!&mdash;it
+may be even now too late."</p>
+
+<p>Her tale was rapidly told, and before it was concluded Mr.
+Sinclair was ready for action.</p>
+
+<p>"But the house, Mary, what house is he in?"</p>
+
+<p>This Mary could not tell, but rapidly ascending the stairs to
+her room, Mr. Sinclair obtained from the two gossips the information
+he sought. Startled as they were by his appearance,
+they reverenced the rector too much to question his designs.
+Leaving his daughter to forget even her own heavy sorrow in
+the imminent danger of another&mdash;of one whom, without any
+very satisfactory reason, she as well as Mr. Sinclair had at once
+concluded to be her deliverer of the morning&mdash;let us follow his
+steps.</p>
+
+<p>The church clock tolled eleven as Mr. Sinclair passed, and
+the sound made his fleet movements fleeter still. Street after
+street was traversed without a voice or tread, save his own,
+breaking the stillness of the night. At length he reached the
+point of the day's devastations. Dismantled and roofless
+houses, from which a dull glimmer showed that the fire was
+not yet wholly extinguished, were seen rising here and there,
+while in intervening spaces a charred and smouldering heap
+alone gave evidence that man had had his dwelling there. A
+rapid glance as he passed without a pause over this ground
+told its desolation. But see&mdash;what object meets his eye, and
+causes every nerve to thrill with apprehension!  From the<a class='page' name ='Page_241' id='Page_241' title='241'>&nbsp;</a>
+midst of one of those blackened heaps a single post shoots up&mdash;wildly
+Mr. Sinclair casts his eyes upward to its summit&mdash;gracious
+heaven! is he too late? To that post, about twenty
+feet from the ground, a cross-piece is attached, to which a rope
+has been secured, and from that rope a dark object hangs
+motionless. Sick with horror he stops&mdash;he gazes&mdash;no! it is no
+illusion&mdash;dimly defined against the star-lit sky, his eye, dilated
+by terror, traces the form of man, and fancy supplies the traits
+of him who stood before him but a few hours since in all the
+flush of manhood&mdash;every moment replete with energy, every
+look full of proud resolve and generous feeling. With a
+searching glance Mr. Sinclair looks around for the murderers&mdash;but
+they are gone&mdash;again, his strangely fascinated eye turns
+to that object of horror. Is it the agitation of a death struggle
+which causes it now to swing to and fro in the dusky air?
+The thought that life may not yet be extinct gives him new
+strength&mdash;he runs&mdash;he flies to Major Scott's lodgings, for from
+him alone is he secure of aid in his present purpose.</p>
+
+<p>As Mr. Sinclair approached the house in which Major Scott
+had found accommodations for himself and his prisoner, he
+found himself no longer in darkness. More than one burning
+torch threw a lurid light upon the scene, while the men who
+held them, and perhaps as many as twenty more stood clustered
+together, near the house, against which some of them
+were engaged in elevating a ladder. In what service that
+ladder might have been last used Mr. Sinclair shuddered to
+think. Perfect stillness reigned in this party. Their few orders
+were given in whispers.</p>
+
+<p>Keeping cautiously in shadow, and moving with stealthy
+steps, Mr. Sinclair passed them and reached the house. Even
+when there, he had little hope of making Major Scott hear him
+without alarming them, and he could not doubt that they
+would do every thing in their power to frustrate his object.<a class='page' name ='Page_242' id='Page_242' title='242'>&nbsp;</a>
+But Heaven favored his merciful design&mdash;he touched the door
+and found it ajar. All was dark as midnight within it, and he
+had scarcely taken a step when he stumbled against a man
+whose voice sounded fiercely even in the low whisper in which
+he ejaculated, "D&mdash;n you. Do you want to wake the Major?
+Don't you see you're at his room door?"</p>
+
+<p>"I see now, but it was so dark at first," whispered Mr.
+Sinclair in reply&mdash;adding with that quickness of perception and
+readiness of invention which danger supplies to some minds&mdash;"I
+have come to watch him&mdash;you are wanted."</p>
+
+<p>The man obeyed the intimation, and he had no sooner
+turned away than Mr. Sinclair laid his hand upon the latch of
+the door which had been indicated as Major Scott's. It yielded
+to his touch, and with a quick but cautious movement he entered
+the room, and closed the door behind him. Cautious as
+he was, the soldier's light sleep was broken, and he exclaimed
+hurriedly, "Who's there?"</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Sinclair's communication was made in a hasty whisper,
+and Major Scott only heard enough to know that his prisoner
+was in danger. Of Mr. Sinclair's worst suspicions he did not
+even dream when, starting to his feet, half dressed, as he had
+thrown himself on the bed, he snatched his pistols from under
+his pillow, and exclaiming to Mr. Sinclair, "Follow me, sir,"
+hurried to the scene of action, the room of Captain Percy.
+Mr. Sinclair followed with rapid steps.</p>
+
+<p>In one respect the conspirators had been disappointed&mdash;they
+had not obtained the key of Captain Percy's room, for
+being now a prisoner on parole, he was subject to no confinement.
+He had, however, locked the door of his room himself,
+to guard against the incursion of curiosity rather than of hostility;
+but the lock was none of the strongest&mdash;a single vigorous
+application of Major Scott's foot to the door started the screws
+which held it, and a second burst it off and threw the entrance<a class='page' name ='Page_243' id='Page_243' title='243'>&nbsp;</a>
+open before him. As Mr. Sinclair glanced forward, "Thank
+God!" burst from his lips, to the no small surprise of Major
+Scott, who saw little cause for gratitude in finding the object
+of his solicitude retreating, sword in hand, towards the door,
+while several athletic men, their faces dark with hate, were
+already pressing dangerously upon him, and others were crowding
+in at the opened window. The impetuous rush of his
+friends freed Captain Percy for a moment from his assailants,
+but they returned fiercely to the charge, too furious now to
+postpone their revenge even to their deference for Major Scott.
+Vain were Mr. Sinclair's entreaties to be heard, till their advance
+was stayed by the sight of Major Scott's firearms&mdash;weapons
+with which they had not furnished themselves, considering
+them useless in an enterprise to whose complete success silence
+was essential. Then first they listened to him as he exclaimed,
+"This man is innocent, and if you shed his blood it will call to
+Heaven for vengeance. I saw him myself this day oppose himself
+to two of his own countrymen to save a defenceless
+woman from injury. That woman was my daughter&mdash;some of
+you know her well&mdash;ah, Thompson! you may well hang your
+head&mdash;would you slay the deliverer of her whose good nursing
+saved the life of your motherless child?&mdash;Wilson, it was but last
+week that she sat beside your dying mother, and soothed and
+comforted her&mdash;but for this good and brave man she would
+now have been with her in heaven."</p>
+
+<p>It was only necessary to gain a hearing for such words to
+produce an influence on the rash, but not cruel men whom Mr.
+Sinclair addressed, and scarcely half an hour had passed since
+their entrance into the room, when they offered their hands in
+pledge of amity to him whose life they had come to seek. As
+a proof of their sincerity, they advised Major Scott no longer
+to delay his departure from the town, and some of them volunteered
+to accompany him as a guard to his country-seat.</p>
+
+<p><a class='page' name ='Page_244' id='Page_244' title='244'>&nbsp;</a>"You have saved my life," said Captain Percy, as he shook
+hands with Mr. Sinclair at parting.</p>
+
+<p>"And you have preserved for me all, except my duties, for
+which I can now desire to live," answered Mr. Sinclair with
+emotion: then turning to Major Scott, he added, "as soon as
+you consider it safe, you will, I hope, bring Captain Percy to
+visit us. In the mean time, Captain Percy, remember that the
+stranger and the prisoner are a clergyman's especial care, and
+suffer yourself to want nothing which I can do for you. By-the
+by," and he took Major Scott aside and whispered him.</p>
+
+<p>"Give yourself no concern about that, my dear sir," said
+Major Scott in reply, "I will attend to it."</p>
+
+<p>He did attend to it, and Captain Percy's drafts on his captor
+were promptly met, till he was able to open a communication
+with the British commander.</p>
+
+<p>In as quiet a manner as possible Major Scott and Captain
+Percy moved off from the hotel, and were met in the suburbs
+by their volunteer guard, while another party of the men whom
+he had thus saved from a great crime, attended Mr. Sinclair
+to his home. As he entered the area of the smouldering ruins
+his eye sought the object lately viewed with so much horror.
+He had scarcely glanced at it, when one of his companions
+stepped up and disengaged a dark cloak from the noose already
+prepared for its expected victim&mdash;"I knew no one would
+steal it from the gallows," said the man, as he threw it over
+his shoulders. Mr. Sinclair smiled to think how easily imagination
+had transformed that harmless object into the fair proportions
+of a man.</p>
+
+<p>Nothing more was heard of Captain Percy for weeks&mdash;dreary
+weeks to many in Havre de Grace&mdash;melancholy weeks
+to the inmates of the parsonage, who missed at every turn the
+familiar step and voice which had been life's sweetest music to
+their hearts. At length Mr. Sinclair received a note from Ma<a class='page' name ='Page_245' id='Page_245' title='245'>&nbsp;</a>jor
+Scott, announcing his own approaching departure to the
+army on our northern frontier, and requesting permission for
+Captain Percy and himself to call on Mr. and Miss Sinclair.
+Permission was given&mdash;the call was made, and they who had
+met only in scenes of terror and dismay, amidst flushing looks
+and fierce words, now greeted each other with gentlest courtesy
+among sounds and sights of peace. The call was succeeded
+by a visit of some days, and this by one of weeks, till at last
+it seemed to be understood that the parsonage was to be the
+home of Captain Percy while awaiting the exchange which
+Major Scott had promised to do all in his power to expedite.
+His society was at the present time peculiarly pleasing to Mr.
+Sinclair, who was diverted from his own sad thoughts by the
+varied intelligence of the soldier and traveller in many lands.
+Mary Sinclair had been unable to meet her deliverer without
+a thrill of emotion which communicated an air of timidity to
+her manner, whose usual characteristic was modest self-possession.
+Captain Percy, at thirty-five, had outlived the age of
+sudden and violent passion, but he had not outlived that of
+deep feeling. A soldier from boyhood, he had visited almost
+every clime, and been familiar with the beauties of almost
+every land, yet in this lovely and gentle girl, whom he had
+guarded from ill, and whom he now saw in all the pure and
+tender associations of her home, blessing and blessed, there
+was something which touched his heart more deeply than he
+liked to acknowledge even to himself. Again and again when
+he saw the soft, varying color that arose to her cheek at his
+sudden entrance, or heard the voice in which she was addressing
+another, sink into a more subdued tone as she spoke to
+him, did he take his hat and wander forth, that he might still
+in solitude his bosom's triumphant throb, and reason with himself
+on the folly of suffering his affections to be enthralled by
+one from whom, ere another day passed, he might be separated<a class='page' name ='Page_246' id='Page_246' title='246'>&nbsp;</a>
+by orders which would send him thousands of miles away, and
+detain him, perhaps, for years.</p>
+
+<p>"If I thought her feelings were really interested," he would
+say to himself at other times&mdash;"but nonsense&mdash;how can I be
+such a coxcomb&mdash;all she can feel for me is gratitude."</p>
+
+<p>This last sentiment was echoed by Mary Sinclair, who,
+when self-convicted of unusual emotion in Captain Percy's presence,
+ever repeated, "It is only gratitude."</p>
+
+<p>One evening Mr. Sinclair retired after tea to his study, leaving
+his daughter and his guest together. He had not been
+gone long when a servant entered with the letters and papers just
+brought by the semi-weekly mail, which conveyed to the inhabitants
+of Havre de Grace news of the important events
+then daily transpiring in distant parts of the country. The
+only letter was a somewhat bulky one for Captain Percy.
+Mary received the papers and commenced reading them, that
+she might leave her companion at liberty. Had she been
+looking at him she would have seen some surprise, and even a
+little annoyance in his countenance as his eyes rested on the
+seals of his dispatch. He opened it, and the annoyance deepened.
+He read it more than once. Minutes passed in perfect
+silence, and Mary began to wonder what correspondent could
+so deeply interest him. A heavy sigh made her look up. His
+letter lay open on the table before him, but he had evidently
+long ceased to read, for his arm rested upon it, while his eyes
+were fixed with an expression at once intent and mournful on
+her. Mary thought only of him as she said, "I hope you have
+no painful intelligence there, Captain Percy."</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose I ought to consider it very joyful intelligence&mdash;I
+am no longer a prisoner&mdash;I have been exchanged, and"&mdash;he
+hesitated, looked away, then added rapidly&mdash;"I am ordered
+immediately to join my regiment in Canada."</p>
+
+<p>A quick drawing of the breath, as though from sudden<a class='page' name ='Page_247' id='Page_247' title='247'>&nbsp;</a>
+pain, met his ear&mdash;his heart beat quickly, but he would not
+embarrass her by a glance. There was a slight rustling of her
+dress, and turning he saw that she had risen, and with one
+hand pressed upon the table for support, was advancing to the
+door. Falteringly, one&mdash;two&mdash;three steps were taken, and
+completely overcome, pale and ready to faint, she sank upon a
+sofa near her. He sprang forward, but she motioned him away,
+and covering her face with her hands, burst into tears&mdash;tears
+of shame as well as of sorrow. For an instant he stood irresolute&mdash;but
+only for an instant, when bending over her, he
+whispered, "Dare I hope that you sympathize with me, Mary&mdash;that
+the feeling which made even liberty painful to me
+since it separates me from you, is not confined to my own
+bosom?"</p>
+
+<p>Mary's sobs ceased&mdash;but she spoke not&mdash;moved not.</p>
+
+<p>"Answer me, dear Mary&mdash;remember I have little time to
+woo, for my orders admit of no delay in their execution&mdash;I
+must leave you to-morrow. Rise then above the petty formalities
+of your sex, and if I may indeed hope ever to call you
+mine, let me do so this night&mdash;this hour&mdash;your father will not,
+I think, fear to commit you to my tenderness."</p>
+
+<p>Mary uncovered her face, and raised her eyes for an instant
+to his, with an expression so confiding that he thought his
+suit was won, and pressing her hand to his lips, he said,
+"That glance tells me that you are my own, Mary. My life
+shall prove my gratitude&mdash;but now I must seek your father&mdash;<i>our</i>
+father&mdash;will you await us here?"</p>
+
+<p>"I have something to say to you&mdash;sit down and hear me,"
+said Mary, in a voice which she strove in vain to raise above a
+whisper.</p>
+
+<p>He placed himself beside her on the sofa, still clasping the
+hand he had taken, and with a voice faltering and low at first,
+but gathering strength as she proceeded, Mary resumed:&mdash;"I<a class='page' name ='Page_248' id='Page_248' title='248'>&nbsp;</a>
+will not attempt&mdash;I do not wish to deny that you have read
+my heart aright&mdash;that&mdash;that you who saved me are&mdash;are&mdash;"
+a lover's ear alone could detect the next words&mdash;"very dear to
+me&mdash;but I cannot&mdash;I think I ought not&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>She paused, and Captain Percy said, "You are not willing
+to intrust your happiness to one so lately known."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, no! you mistake my meaning&mdash;I can have no doubt
+of you&mdash;no fear for my own happiness&mdash;but my father&mdash;who
+will care for him if I, his daughter, his only child, thus give
+myself to another at the very time that he needs me most?"</p>
+
+<p>"I will not take you from him&mdash;at least not now, Mary&mdash;give
+me but the right to call you mine, and I will leave you
+here in your own sweet home&mdash;not again, I trust, to be visited
+by war&mdash;till peace shall leave me at liberty to return to England
+with my bride&mdash;my wife."</p>
+
+<p>He would have clasped her to him as he named her thus,
+but Mary struggled almost wildly to free herself, exclaiming,
+"Oh! plead not thus lest I forget my father in myself&mdash;my
+duty in love&mdash;the forgetfulness would be but short&mdash;I should
+be unhappy even at your side, when I thought of the loneliness
+of heart and life to which I had condemned him."</p>
+
+<p>"But he should go with us&mdash;he should have our home.
+It will be a simple home, Mary&mdash;for though I come of a lordly
+race, I inherit not their wealth&mdash;but it will be large enough
+for our father."</p>
+
+<p>"Kind and generous!" exclaimed Mary, as she suffered
+her fingers to clasp the hand in which they had hitherto only
+rested, "would that it might be so&mdash;but that were to ask of
+my father a sacrifice greater even than the surrender of his
+daughter&mdash;the sacrifice of his sense of duty to the people who
+have chosen him as their spiritual father&mdash;and to whom he
+considers himself bound for life."</p>
+
+<p>Captain Percy remained silent long after she had ceased to<a class='page' name ='Page_249' id='Page_249' title='249'>&nbsp;</a>
+speak, with his eyes resting on her downcast face. At length
+in low, sad tones, he questioned, "And must we part thus?"</p>
+
+<p>Mary's lips moved, but she could not speak.</p>
+
+<p>"I will not ask you to remember me, Mary," he resumed,
+"for if forgetfulness be possible to you, it will perhaps be for
+your happiness to forget&mdash;yet&mdash;pardon me if I am selfish&mdash;I
+would have some little light amidst the darkness gathering
+around my heart&mdash;may I hope that had no duty forbidden
+you would have been mine?"</p>
+
+<p>She yielded to his clasping arm, and sinking on his bosom,
+murmured there, "Yours&mdash;yours ever and only&mdash;yours wholly
+if I could be yours holily."</p>
+
+<p>From this interview Mary retired to her chamber, and
+Captain Percy sought his host in his study. After communicating
+to Mr. Sinclair the contents of the dispatch he had just
+received, he continued, "I must in consequence of these orders
+leave you immediately&mdash;but before I go I have a confession to
+make to you. You will not wonder that your lovely daughter
+should have won my heart; but one hour since, I could
+have said that I had never yielded for an instant to that heart's
+suggestions&mdash;had never consciously revealed my love, or endeavored
+to excite in her feelings which, in my position and
+the present relations of our respective countries, could scarcely
+fail to be productive of pain. I can say so no longer. The
+moment of parting has torn the veil from the hearts of both&mdash;she
+loves me,"&mdash;there was a joyous intonation in Captain
+Percy's voice as he pronounced these last words. He was
+silent a moment while Mr. Sinclair continued to look gravely
+down&mdash;then suddenly he resumed&mdash;"Pardon my selfishness&mdash;I
+forget all else in the sweet thought that I am loved by
+one so pure, so gentle, so lovely. But though I have dared
+without your permission to acknowledge my own tenderness,
+and to draw from her the dear confession of her regard, there<a class='page' name ='Page_250' id='Page_250' title='250'>&nbsp;</a>
+my wrong has ended&mdash;she has assured me that she could never
+be happy separated from you, and that you are wedded to your
+people." Mr. Sinclair shaded with his hand features quivering
+with emotion. "At present," continued Captain Percy, "these
+feelings, which are both of them too sacred for me to contest,
+place a barrier between us, and I have sought from her no
+promise for the future&mdash;if she can forget me&mdash;" Captain
+Percy paused a moment, then added abruptly&mdash;"may a
+happier destiny be hers than I could have commanded&mdash;but,
+sir, the time may come when England shall no longer need
+all her soldiers&mdash;an orphan and an only child, I have nothing
+to bind me to her soil&mdash;should I seek you then, and find your
+Mary with an unchanged heart, will you give her to me?&mdash;will
+you receive me as a son?"</p>
+
+<p>"Under such circumstances I would do so joyfully," Mr.
+Sinclair replied, "yet I cannot conceal from you now that I
+grieve to know that my daughter must wear out her youth in
+a hope long deferred at best, perhaps never to be realized."</p>
+
+<p>Both gentlemen were for a few minutes plunged in silent
+thought. Captain Percy arose from his seat&mdash;walked several
+times across the room, and then stopping before the table at
+which Mr. Sinclair was seated, resumed the conversation.</p>
+
+<p>"Had I designedly sought the interest with which your
+daughter has honored me," he said, "your words would inflict
+on me intolerable self-reproach, but I cannot blame myself for
+not being silent when silence would have been a reproach to
+her delicacy and a libel on my own affection. Now, however,
+sir, I yield myself wholly to your cooler judgment and better
+knowledge of her nature, and I will do whatever may in your
+opinion conduce to her happiness, without respect to my own
+feelings. If you think that she can forget the past, and you
+desire that she should"&mdash;his voice lost its firmness and he
+grasped with violence the chair on which he leaned&mdash;"I will<a class='page' name ='Page_251' id='Page_251' title='251'>&nbsp;</a>
+do nothing to recall it to her memory. It is the only <i>amende</i>
+I can make for the shadow I have thrown upon her life&mdash;dark
+indeed will such a resolve leave my own."</p>
+
+<p>"It would cast no ray of light on hers. Be assured her
+love is not a thing to be forgotten&mdash;it is a part of her life."</p>
+
+<p>"And it shall be repaid with all of mine which my duties
+as a soldier and subject leave at my disposal. Do not think
+me altogether selfish when I say that your words have left no
+place in my heart for any thing but happiness&mdash;I have but
+one thing more to ask you&mdash;it is a great favor&mdash;inexpressibly
+great&mdash;but&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Nay&mdash;nay," Mr. Sinclair exclaimed, gathering his meaning
+more from his looks and manner than from the words
+which fell slowly from his lips&mdash;"ask me not so soon to put
+the irrevocable seal upon a bond which may be one of
+misery."</p>
+
+<p>"If your words be true&mdash;if her love be a part of her life,
+the irrevocable seal has been already affixed by Heaven, and I
+only ask you to give your sanction to it, that by uniting her
+duty and her love, you may save her gentle spirit all contest
+with itself, and give her the fairest hope of future joy."</p>
+
+<p>It was now Mr. Sinclair's turn to rise and pace the floor in
+agitated silence&mdash;"I know not how to decide so suddenly on
+so momentous a question," he at length exclaimed.</p>
+
+<p>"Suppose you leave its decision to her whom it most
+concerns. It is for her happiness we are most anxious&mdash;so entirely
+is that my object that I would not influence her determination
+even by a look. I will not even ask to be present
+when you place my proposal before her; but I must repeat,
+sir, if you design to do it, there is no time to be lost, for I
+must be on my way to Canada to-morrow."</p>
+
+<p>"So be it then&mdash;she shall choose for herself, and Heaven
+direct her choice!"</p>
+
+<p><a class='page' name ='Page_252' id='Page_252' title='252'>&nbsp;</a>"Amen!" responded Captain Percy, as Mr. Sinclair turned
+from the door. He heard him ascend the stairs, and ask and
+receive admission to his daughter's room. Then he counted
+the seconds as they grew into minutes&mdash;the minutes as they
+extended to a quarter of an hour&mdash;a half-hour&mdash;and rolled
+slowly on towards the hour which lacked but little to its completion,
+when his straining ear caught the sound of an opening
+door, and then Mr. Sinclair's sedate step was heard slowly descending
+the stairs and approaching the study. Captain Percy
+met him at the door, and looked the inquiry which he could
+not speak. Mr. Sinclair replied to the look, "She is yours!"</p>
+
+<p>"May I not see her and receive such a confirmation of my
+hopes from her own lips!"</p>
+
+<p>"Not to-night&mdash;I have persuaded her to retire at once&mdash;she
+needs repose, and we must be early astir. Your marriage
+must for many reasons be kept secret at present, and as I could
+not, I fear, find witnesses here on whose silence I could rely,
+we will accompany you in the morning to Major Scott's, and
+there, in the presence of his wife and sister, your vows shall
+receive the sanction of the church. You must have some
+preparation to make, and I will bid you good night, for there
+are certain legal preliminaries necessary to the validity of a
+marriage here, to which I must attend this evening&mdash;unusual
+as the hour is."</p>
+
+<p>There was a strange mingling of emotion in the hearts of
+the lovers as they stood side by side within that room in the
+gray dawn of the next morning. In a few hours they were to
+part, they knew not for what distance of space or duration of
+time. It might be that they should never after this morning
+look upon each other's faces in life; yet, ere they parted, there
+was to be a bond upon their souls which should make <i>them</i>
+ever present to each other, should give them the same interests,
+should, as it were, mould their beings into one. Sacred
+bond of God's own forming, which thus offers the support of a<a class='page' name ='Page_253' id='Page_253' title='253'>&nbsp;</a>
+spiritual and indissoluble union amidst the separations and
+changes of this ever-varying life! No such strength and
+peace are to be found in the frail and casual ties for which man
+in his folly would exchange this bond of Heaven.</p>
+
+<p>Few words were spoken during the burned breakfast at
+the parsonage, or the drive to Major Scott's, for deep emotion
+is ever silent. Yet not for them were the coy reserves often
+evinced by hearts on the verge of a life-union&mdash;the faltering
+timidity which hesitates to lift the veil from feelings in whose
+light existence is thenceforth to pass. They could not forget
+that they were to part, and even Mary hesitated not to let her
+lover read in her eyes' shadowy depths the tenderness which
+might soothe the parting pang, and whose memory might
+brighten the hours of separation.</p>
+
+<p>Why should we linger on a scene which each heart can
+depict for itself? With solemn tenderness the father pronounced
+the words which transferred to another the right to
+his own earthly sanctuary&mdash;the heart of his daughter&mdash;and
+committed to another's keeping&mdash;his last and brightest earthly
+treasure. That treasure was soon, however, returned, for a
+time, to his care. The vows of the marriage rite had scarcely
+been uttered, when with one long clasp&mdash;one whispered word&mdash;one
+lingering look&mdash;the disciplined soldier turned from his
+newly-found joy to his duties. Never had Mary seemed more
+lovely in his eyes or her father's than in that moment, when
+with quivering lips, eyes "heavy with unshed tears," and
+cheeks white with anguish, she yet smiled upon him to the
+last. Nor did her heroic self-control cease when he was gone.
+Her father was still there, and for him she endured and was
+silent. Only by her languid movements and fading color
+did he learn the bitterness of her soul through the weary
+months of her sorrow. Weary months were they indeed!</p>
+
+<p>One letter she received from Captain Percy, written before<a class='page' name ='Page_254' id='Page_254' title='254'>&nbsp;</a>
+he had passed beyond the limits of the United States. It
+breathed the very soul of tenderness. "My wife!" he wrote,
+"what joy is summed in that little word&mdash;what faith in the
+present&mdash;what promise for the future! I find myself often
+repeating it again and again with a lingering cadence, while
+your gentle eyes seem smiling at my folly." Long, long did
+Mary wear this letter next her heart, and still no other came
+to take its place.</p>
+
+<p>They had parted in 1813, just as the falling leaves came
+to herald the approach of winter. That winter passed with
+Mary in vain longing and vainer hopes. Spring again clothed
+her home with beauty, but there came no spring to her heart.
+Summer brought joy and gladness to the earth, but not to her,
+and another autumn closed over her in anxious suspense.
+There were moments when she could almost have prayed to
+have that dread silence broken even by a voice from the tomb&mdash;other
+times in which she threw herself on her knees in
+thankfulness that she could yet hope. From Major Scott she
+had heard that Captain Percy's regiment had been sent to the
+South, but of him individually even Major Scott knew nothing.
+At length came the eighth of January, that day of
+vain triumph on which thousands fell in the contest for rights
+already lost and won&mdash;the treaty of peace having been signed
+at Ghent on the twenty-fourth of the preceding month. Forgetful
+of this useless hecatomb at war's relentless shrine,
+America echoed the gratulations of the victors which fell with
+scathing power on the heart of the trembling Mary. How
+could she hope that he, the fearless soldier, had escaped this
+scene of slaughter! If he had, surely he would now find some
+way to inform her of his safety, but weeks passed on, and
+passed still in silence.</p>
+
+<p>During this long period of suspense, no doubt of the tenderness
+and truth of him she loved had ever sullied Mary's<a class='page' name ='Page_255' id='Page_255' title='255'>&nbsp;</a>
+faith. Mr. Sinclair was not always thus confiding, and once,
+on seeing the deadly pallor that overspread her face on hearing
+the announcement of "no letters"&mdash;he uttered words of
+keen reproach on him who could so wrong her gentle heart.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, father!" Mary exclaimed, "speak not thus&mdash;be assured
+it is not his fault&mdash;remember that no license could tempt
+him to wrong the defenceless&mdash;think how honorable he was in
+suppressing his own feelings lest their avowal should bring
+sorrow on us&mdash;and when my self-betrayal unsealed his lips,
+how delicate to me, how generous to you was his conduct&mdash;and
+who but he could have been so rigid in his observance of
+a soldier's duty, yet so inexpressibly tender as a man! I loved
+him because I saw him thus true and noble&mdash;and having seen
+him thus how can I doubt him? He may be no longer on
+earth, but wherever he is, he is my true and noble husband,
+and you will not again distress me, dear father, by speaking as
+though you doubted him."</p>
+
+<p>"Never," said Mr. Sinclair emphatically, and he never did,
+though he saw her form grow thinner, and her cheek paler
+every day, and before the winter was gone heard that deep,
+hollow cough from her, which has so often sounded the knell
+of hope to the anxious heart. With the coming on of summer
+this cough passed away, but Mary was oppressed by great
+feebleness and languor&mdash;scarcely less fatal symptoms. Still
+she omitted none of those cares essential to her father's comfort&mdash;while
+to the poor, the sick, the sorrowing, she was more
+than ever an angel of mercy. With feeble steps and slow she
+still walked her accustomed round of charity, and thus living
+for duty she lived for God, and had His peace shed abroad in
+her heart, even while sorrow was wearing away the springs of
+her life. She loved to sit alone and send her thoughts forward
+to the future&mdash;not of this life, but of that higher life in which
+there shall be no shadow on the brightness of our joy&mdash;where<a class='page' name ='Page_256' id='Page_256' title='256'>&nbsp;</a>
+love shall be without fear&mdash;no war shall desolate&mdash;no opposing
+duty shall separate&mdash;no death shall place its stony barrier
+between loving hearts. With a mind thus occupied, she wandered
+one day, in the latter part of August, through the garden
+of the parsonage and the yard immediately surrounding
+the church into the little inclosure beyond, within which was
+the green and flowery knoll that marked her mother's last
+resting-place. As she turned again towards her home the
+sound of a carriage driven rapidly by caused her to look towards
+the road which lay about a hundred yards distant. The
+carriage rushed by, and she caught but a glimpse of a gentleman
+leaning from its window. In another moment a grove of
+trees had hidden both the carriage and its occupant from her
+sight&mdash;yet that glimpse had sent a thrill through her whole
+frame&mdash;a mist passed over her eyes, and with eager, trembling
+steps, she proceeded on her way. As she reached the garden,
+she thought she saw her father approaching it from the house,
+but her path led through a summer-house, and when she had
+passed through it he was no longer visible. Every thing in
+the house wore its usual air of quietness on her entrance, and
+with a feeling of disappointment, for which she could not
+rationally account, she turned her steps towards her father's
+study. As she drew near the door she heard his voice&mdash;the
+words, "I dread to tell her," met her ear and made her heart
+stand still. One step more and she was at the door&mdash;she
+looked eagerly forward, and with a glad cry sprang into the
+extended arms of her husband.</p>
+
+<p>It was long before any of the party were sufficiently composed
+for conversation. When that time came, Captain
+or rather Colonel Percy heard with surprise that no letters had
+been received from him since his joining the army in Canada.
+He had written often, but had been obliged to send his letters
+to some distant post-town by his own servant. As he had de<a class='page' name ='Page_257' id='Page_257' title='257'>&nbsp;</a>clined
+accompanying Colonel Percy to America, there was reason
+to suppose that he had suspected the character of the correspondence,
+perhaps had acquainted himself fully with the
+contents of the letters, and had taken effectual means to prevent
+their reaching their destination, with the hope of thus completely
+removing from Colonel Percy's mind every inducement
+to return to this country. Having received a disabling though
+not dangerous wound at the battle of New Orleans, Colonel
+then Major Percy was sent home with despatches, and was immediately
+ordered to join the army under Lord Wellington,
+then rapidly hastening to repel the attempt of the prisoner of
+Elba to re-establish himself on the throne of France. From
+this period till the battle of Waterloo all private concerns were
+merged in the interest and the hurry of great public events.
+In that battle Major Percy was again slightly wounded. His
+distinguished bravery was rewarded by his being made again
+the bearer of despatches to England. As it was evident to all
+that the struggle which had called the whole force of Britain
+into the field was now at an end, he had no hesitation in asking
+and no difficulty in obtaining leave of absence from the commander-in-chief,
+and had lost no time in embarking for
+America.</p>
+
+<p>"As a consequence of peace," said Colonel Percy in conclusion,
+"a large part of our force will be disbanded, and
+many officers put on half-pay. A friend who is very influential
+at head quarters has undertaken to secure me a place on
+the list of the latter&mdash;and henceforth, dear Mary, your home
+is mine!"</p>
+
+<p>"And did you never doubt me during all this long
+silence?" he asked of his happy wife a few days after his
+return.</p>
+
+<p>"Never," said Mary firmly, and then added in a more
+playful manner&mdash;"if I should step into the confessor's chair,
+could you answer as boldly?"</p>
+
+<p><a class='page' name ='Page_258' id='Page_258' title='258'>&nbsp;</a>"I can, Mary&mdash;though I never received a line from you, it
+never occurred to me to fear any change in your affection.
+Our marriage had placed on it the seal of duty, and your conduct
+in relation to your father had shown me that that seal
+you could not easily break."</p>
+
+<p>"Then you did not love me less for not yielding every
+other consideration to the gratification of your wishes?" said
+Mary, endeavoring to speak lightly, but betraying deeper feeling
+by the slight tremor in her voice, and the quick blush
+mantling in her cheek.</p>
+
+<p>"Love you less!" exclaimed Colonel Percy warmly&mdash;"my
+love had been little worthy of your acceptance, dearest, had it
+been lessened by seeing that your principles were paramount
+even to your affections. Happy would it be for all your sex,
+Mary, did they recognize as the only test of a true and noble
+love, that it increases with the increase of esteem, and finds
+more pleasure in the excellence of its object than in its own
+selfish triumphs."</p>
+
+<p>Ere the winter of 1815 had set in, Mary's rounded form and
+blooming cheek relieved all Mr. Sinclair's apprehension of her
+consumptive tendencies, and proved that her love was indeed,
+as he had said, "a part of her life."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a class='page' name ='Page_259' id='Page_259' title='259'>&nbsp;</a><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a><a href="#CONTENTS">CHAPTER XIV.</a></h2>
+
+
+<p>The New-Year's day&mdash;the day after which the year is no longer
+new&mdash;is come and gone; and while sitting here to record its
+events before I sleep, I look back at it with pleasure, chastened
+by such thoughts as the young seldom have. I believe of all
+such eras the aged may say as the poet says of his birthday:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i6">"What a different sound<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That word had in my younger years!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And every time the chain comes round,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Less and less bright the link appears."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>To all, these eras mark their progress on the journey of
+life; but to the young they are bright with the promise of a
+happier future; the aged, they direct to the grave of the buried
+past, and they read on them the inscription so often found on
+the Roman monumental stones, "Siste, Viator." Travellers are
+we from time to eternity, and it is well that we should meet
+with these imperative calls to stand and consider. Cheered by
+the Christian's hope, we can stand; we can look steadily on
+the past, count the lengthening line of these memorials of our
+dead years, and feel that but few more probably lie between us
+and the river of death, yet, strong in the might of Death's great
+Conqueror, "bate no jot of heart or hope."</p>
+
+<p><a class='page' name ='Page_260' id='Page_260' title='260'>&nbsp;</a>These are grave though not sad thoughts; too grave to
+mingle readily with the record of mirthful scenes, howsoever
+innocent may have been the mirth. I must, therefore, lay aside
+my pen, and reserve the description of our New-Year for tomorrow.</p>
+
+<p>Our New-Year opened with a cold and cloudless morning,
+and our party met at breakfast with faces as bright as the sun.
+Gifts were exchanged between the parents and children, the
+brothers and sisters&mdash;gifts, trifling in themselves, but dear from
+their association with the cherished givers. It was an endearing
+sight to see the venerable parents receiving from their
+children testimonies of that affectionate consideration which the
+care and tenderness of years had so well deserved. Tears were
+on Mrs. Donaldson's cheeks, and even the Colonel's eyes glistened
+as they clasped one after another of their children to their
+hearts, and invoked on them the blessing of Heaven. From
+this scene Mr. Arlington and I had stood aloof, silent, but not
+uninterested spectators. As the excitement of the principal
+actors subsided, we approached and tendered our hearty congratulations,
+and received equally hearty congratulations in
+return. Neither had Aunt Nancy been altogether forgotten in
+the mementos of affection provided for the day; and I thought
+Mr. Arlington looked a little envious as Annie, with a kiss,
+threw around my neck a chain woven of her own hair, and
+suspended to it the eye-glass which I always wore. I do not
+know but his envy may have been somewhat allayed by a very
+handsomely decorated copy of an English work on sporting,
+with which Col. Donaldson presented him. He had scarcely
+found time, however, to admire it, when all attention was attracted
+to Philip Donaldson, who entered with a servant bearing
+the mysterious box to which I have before alluded.</p>
+
+<p>"There is my New-Year present to you, Annie," he said, as
+he began to open it.  All drew near and looked on with<a class='page' name ='Page_261' id='Page_261' title='261'>&nbsp;</a>
+interest, yet few felt much surprise when, the cover being
+removed, a Greek dress was disclosed. From the rich head-dress
+of silvered muslin to the embroidered slipper, all was
+complete. Annie looked on with a smile as he displayed piece
+after piece&mdash;yet her smile wore some appearance of constraint;
+and when Philip, drawing her to him, kissed her cheek and
+said, "Not a word for me, Annie!" with her thanks were mingled
+some hesitating expressions of apprehension that this dress
+would be very conspicuous, concluding with the timid question,
+"Do you really wish me to wear it this evening, Philip?"</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly, Annie. It was in order to show you in this
+dress that I proposed fancy dresses for this evening; you will
+not disappoint me?"</p>
+
+<p>"Certainly not&mdash;at least not willingly&mdash;I will wear it. If
+I wear it ungracefully you will forgive me?"</p>
+
+<p>"I am not afraid of that," said Philip, as he glanced at her
+glowing face with a brother's gratified pride.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Donaldson advised that Annie should try on the dress
+at once, as she prudently suggested it might require some
+alteration.</p>
+
+<p>"Come with me, Aunt Nancy," said Annie as she left the
+room to comply with this advice.</p>
+
+<p>"Come back here and let us see you, Annie, when you
+have put it on," said Col. Donaldson.</p>
+
+<p>Annie would have passed from the room without an
+answer, evading the compliance which she could not refuse,
+but the Colonel called her back and did not dismiss her till
+assured that the request, which he knew would be regarded as
+a command, had been heard.</p>
+
+<p>The dress needed no alteration. We afterwards found that
+Philip had sent his friend a measure procured from Annie's
+maid, and the fit was perfect. I am not quite sure that Annie,
+as she saw the beautiful figure reflected in her glass, regretted<a class='page' name ='Page_262' id='Page_262' title='262'>&nbsp;</a>
+the command which compelled her to show herself to the party
+awaiting her in the library, to which we had withdrawn from
+the breakfasting room, that we might not interfere with the
+household operations, of which the latter was, at this hour, the
+scene. Yet it was with a little coy delay and blushing timidity
+that she, at length, suffered me to lead her thither.</p>
+
+<p>"Beautiful!"&mdash;"I never saw her look so well!"&mdash;"I knew
+it would become her!" were the exclamations that greeted
+her, on her entrance, deepening the flush upon her cheek, and
+calling up a brighter smile to her lips. Mr. Arlington alone
+was silent, but his soul was in his eyes, and they spoke an
+admiration compared to which the words of others were tame.</p>
+
+<p>"My dear Annie," said her mother, as she gazed delightedly
+upon her, "how I wish I had a likeness of you in that
+dress!&mdash;you do look so remarkably well in it."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Arlington stepped forward. "Would you permit me&mdash;"
+to Mrs. Donaldson&mdash;"Would you do me the favor&mdash;" to
+Annie&mdash;"Might I be allowed&mdash;" with a glance at the Colonel,
+"to gratify Mrs. Donaldson's wish. It should be my New-Year's
+offering. I would ask only an hour of your time&mdash;"
+deprecatingly to Annie. "That would give me an outline
+which I could fill up without troubling you."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Arlington was so earnest, and Mrs. Donaldson so gratefully
+pleased, that if Annie had any objections, they were completely
+overborne. Mr. Arlington produced his sketching materials,
+and disposed his subject and his light, and then
+intimated so plainly that the consciousness of the observation
+of others would be fatal to his success, that we withdrew,
+leaving only Philip with a book in a distant corner "to play
+propriety," as he whispered to me on passing, with a mischievous
+glance at the blushing Annie.</p>
+
+<p>And now the reader doubtless thinks, that in the engraving
+prefixed to this volume, he has a copy of the sketch made on<a class='page' name ='Page_263' id='Page_263' title='263'>&nbsp;</a>
+this New-Year's morning. In this, however, he deceives himself,
+for the work of this morning amounted to the merest and
+most unfinished outline, which would have stood for Zuleika as
+well as for Annie Donaldson. Yet instead of one hour, Annie
+generously allowed Mr. Arlington nearly to triple the time.
+How he was occupied during all this time, I cannot tell, though
+that he did not spend all of it in drawing I had ocular demonstration.</p>
+
+<p>Nearly three hours, as I have said, had passed since we left
+the library, when, looking from my window, I saw Philip, returning
+to the house on horseback. Having left in the library
+a book in which I was much interested, I had been waiting
+somewhat impatiently for Annie's appearance, to satisfy me
+that I might without intrusion return thither for it. I now concluded,
+somewhat too hastily, as it afterwards proved, from
+seeing Philip abroad, that the sitting was at an end, and accordingly
+went for my book. I entered noiselessly, I suppose&mdash;I
+am usually quiet in my movements&mdash;by a door directly
+opposite to the seat which Mr. Arlington had arranged for
+himself, and behind the sofa on which, at his desire, Annie
+had been seated when I left her. There still was Mr. Arlington's
+seat, and before it a table with the drawing materials and
+unfinished sketch, but Mr. Arlington was on the sofa beside
+Annie. He was speaking, but in tones so low, that even had
+I wished it, I could not have heard him; but the few seconds
+for which surprise kept me chained to the spot, were sufficient
+to suggest the subject of those murmured words. The reader
+will probably conjecture that subject without aid from me, when
+I tell him what I saw. Of Annie, as she sat with her back to
+me, I could only see the drooping head and one crimson ear
+and cheek; Mr. Arlington's face was turned to her, and was
+glowing with joy, and as it seemed to me with triumph. Before
+I had turned away, he raised her hand to his lips. I saw<a class='page' name ='Page_264' id='Page_264' title='264'>&nbsp;</a>
+that it rested unresistingly in his clasp; and gliding through
+the door by which I stood, I closed it softly and left them unconscious
+of my presence.</p>
+
+<p>The invitations had been given for the early hour of half-past
+seven, and at seven, by previous arrangement, our own
+party collected in the library dressed for the evening. There
+stood Col. Donaldson in the uniform of a continental major,
+gallantly attending a lady whose fine dark eyes and sweet
+smile revealed Mrs. Seagrove, notwithstanding the crimped and
+powdered hair, patched face, hoop, furbelows, and farthingale,
+which would have carried us back to the days of Queen Anne.
+Mrs. Dudley, in similar costume, was attended by Philip
+Donaldson, who looked a perfect gentleman of the Sir Charles
+Grandison style in his full dress, with bag-wig and sword.
+Arthur Donaldson, in the graceful and becoming costume of the
+gallant Hotspur, was seated with his Kate by his side, and if
+Kate Percy looked but half as lovely in her bridal array as did
+her present representative, she was well worthy a hero's
+homage. But in the background, evidently shrinking from
+observation, stood a figure more interesting to me than all
+these&mdash;it was our "sweet Annie" as Zuleika&mdash;our Bride, <i>not</i>
+of Abydos&mdash;leaning on the arm of a Selim habited in a costume
+as correct and as magnificent as her own, yet who could
+scarcely be said to <i>look</i> the character well; the open brow of
+Mr. Arlington, where lofty and serene thought seemed to have
+fixed its throne, and his eyes bright with present enjoyment
+and future hope, bearing little resemblance to our imaginations
+of the wronged and desperate Selim, whose very joy seemed
+but a lightning flash, lending intenser darkness to the night of
+his despair. I was the last to enter the room, and as I approached
+Mr. Arlington, he presented me with a very beautiful
+bouquet. I found afterwards that he had made the same
+graceful offering to each of the ladies at the Manor, having<a class='page' name ='Page_265' id='Page_265' title='265'>&nbsp;</a>
+received them from the city, to which he had sent for his Greek
+dress and Philip's wig. Put up in the ingenious cases now
+used for this purpose, the flowers had come looking as freshly
+as though they had that moment been plucked. The bouquet
+appropriated to Annie differed from all the others. It was
+composed of white camelias, moss-rose buds, and violets. As
+I was admiring it, Annie pointed to one of the rose-buds as
+being eminently lovely in its formation and beautiful in its
+delicate shading. It was beautiful, but my attention was more
+attracted by the sparkling of a diamond ring I had never
+before seen upon her finger. The diamond was unusually
+large, the antique setting tasteful. With an inconsideration of
+which I flatter myself I am not often guilty, I exclaimed in
+surprised admiration, "Why, Annie, where did you get that
+beautiful ring?"</p>
+
+<p>The sudden withdrawing of the little hand, the quick flushing
+of cheek, neck, brow, told the tale at once; a tale corroborated
+by the smiling glance which met mine as it was turned
+for a moment on Mr. Arlington. Her confusion was beautiful,
+but he was too generous to enjoy it, and strove to bring me
+back to the flowers.</p>
+
+<p>"Have you ever seen some beautiful verses, translated from
+the German, by Edward Everett I believe, entitled 'The Flower
+Angels?'" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"I never did; can you repeat them?"</p>
+
+<p>He answered by immediately reciting the verses which I
+here give to the reader.</p>
+
+
+<h3><a class='page' name ='Page_266' id='Page_266' title='266'>&nbsp;</a><a name="THE_FLOWER_ANGELS" id="THE_FLOWER_ANGELS"></a><a href="#CONTENTS">THE FLOWER ANGELS.</a></h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table class='poem' border ='0'><tr><td>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">As delicate forms as is thine, my love,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And beauty like thine, have the angels above;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet men cannot see them, though often they come<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On visits to earth from their native home.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Thou ne'er wilt behold them, but if thou wouldst know<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The houses in which, when they wander below,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The Angels are fondest of passing their hours,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I'll tell thee, fair lady&mdash;they dwell in the flowers.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Each flower, as it blossoms, expands to a tent<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For the house of a visiting angel meant;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From his flight o'er the earth he may there find repose,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Till again to the vast tent of heaven he goes.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And this angel his dwelling-place keeps in repair,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As every good man of his dwelling takes care;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All around he adorns it, and paints it well,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And much he's delighted within it to dwell.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">True sunshine of gold, from the orb of day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He borrows, his roof with its light to inlay;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">All the lines of each season to him he calls,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And with them he tinges his chamber walls.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The bread angels eat, from the flower's fine meal,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He bakes, so that hunger he never can feel;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He brews from the dew-drop a drink fresh and good,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And every thing does which a good angel should.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And greatly the flowers, as they blossom, rejoice<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That they are the home of the angel's choice;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And again when to heaven the angel ascends,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The flower falls asunder, the stalk droops and bends.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0"><a class='page' name ='Page_267' id='Page_267' title='267'>&nbsp;</a>If thou, my dear lady, in truth art inclined,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The spirits of heaven beside thee to find,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Reflect on the flowers and love them moreover,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And angels will always around thee hover.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">A flower do but plant near thy window-glass,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And through it no spirit of evil can pass;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When thou goest abroad, on thy bosom wear<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A nosegay, and trust me an angel is near.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Do but water the lilies at break of day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For the hours of the morn thou'lt be whiter than they;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Let a rose round thy bed night-sentry keep,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And angels will rock thee on roses to sleep.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">No frightful dreams can approach thy bed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For around thee an angel his watch will have spread;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And whatever visions thy Guardian, to thee,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Permits to come in, very good ones will be.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">When thus thou art kept by a heavenly spell,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Shouldst thou now and then dream that I love thee right well;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Be sure that with fervor and truth I adore thee,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Or an angel had ne'er set mine image before thee.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+</td></tr></table></div>
+
+<p>The visitors soon began to arrive. There were among
+them some amusing characters, so well supported as to give
+rise during the evening to many entertaining scenes; but to
+me this was the group and this the incident of the evening.
+Not a group or an incident for prurient curiosity or frivolous
+jest, but for an earnest and reverent recognition of that beautiful
+law imposed on Nature by her Great Author, by which
+the feeble delight in receiving, and the strong in giving support&mdash;that
+law by which a pure and self-abnegating affection
+is made the source of life in all its commingling relations&mdash;of
+its duties and its sympathies&mdash;its joys and its sorrows&mdash;of its
+severest probation and its loftiest development.</p>
+
+<p><a class='page' name ='Page_268' id='Page_268' title='268'>&nbsp;</a>It was in the solemnity of spirit, engendered by thoughts
+like these, that I stood at the window of my room, looking
+forth upon the still and moonlit night, long after our friends
+had left us. My door opened softly and Annie glided in, and
+ere I was aware of her presence, was standing beside me with
+her head resting on my shoulder. A tear was on the cheek to
+which I pressed my lips. A few whispered words told me
+whence the ring came&mdash;but not for the public are the pure,
+guileless confidences of that hour.</p>
+
+<p>Our holiday festivities were over, and the next day the
+Christmas Guests departed. They had stepped aside awhile
+from the dusty thoroughfares on which they were accustomed
+to pursue their several avocations, for the interchange of friendly
+sympathy with each other, and the offering of grateful hearts
+to Heaven, and now they were returning, cheered and strengthened
+to their allotted work. Reader, go thou and do likewise</p>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table class='poem' border ='0'><tr><td>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Like a star<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That maketh not haste,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That taketh no rest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Let each be fulfilling<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His God-given best."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+</td></tr></table></div>
+
+<p class='center'>THE END.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="D_Appleton_Cos_Publications" id="D_Appleton_Cos_Publications"></a><i>D. Appleton &amp; Co.'s Publications.</i></h2>
+
+
+<h3>Novels, Tales, &amp;c.</h3>
+
+<div class="dbooklist"><p class='pbooklist'><i>AGUILAR, G</i>.&mdash;A MOTHER'S RECOMPENSE.  12mo., paper, 50c.; cloth, 75c.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>&mdash;&mdash; WOMEN OF ISRAEL. Two vols. 12mo., paper, $1; cloth, $1 50c.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>&mdash;&mdash; VALE OF CEDARS. 12mo., cloth, 75c.; paper, 50c.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>&mdash;&mdash; WOMAN'S FRIENDSHIP, cloth, 75c.; paper, 50c.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'><i>ADRIAN</i>; <span class="smcap">or, The Clouds of the Mind</span>. By G.&nbsp;P.&nbsp;R. James and M.&nbsp;B. Field. 12mo., cloth, $1.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'><i>CORBOULD'S</i> HISTORY AND ADVENTURES OF MARGARET CATCHPOLE. 8vo., 2 plates, paper cover, 25c.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'><i>DUMAS</i>' MARGUERITE DE VALOIS. A Novel. 8vo., 25c. <i>DUPUY, A.&nbsp;E</i>.&mdash;THE CONSPIRATOR.  12mo., cloth, 75c.; paper, 50c.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'><i>ELLEN PARRY</i>; <span class="smcap">or, Trials of the Heart</span>. 12mo., 63c.; paper, 88c.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'><i>ELLEN MIDDLETON</i>. A Tale by Lady Fullerton. 12mo., paper, 50c.; cloth, 75c.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'><i>HEARTS UNVEILED</i>; <span class="smcap">or, "I Knew You would Like Him</span>." By Mrs. Saymore. 12mo., paper, 50c.; cloth, 75c.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'><i>HOME IS HOME</i>; A <span class="smcap">Domestic Story</span>. 12mo., paper, 50c.; cloth, 75c.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'><i>HELOISE</i>; <span class="smcap">or, The Unrevealed Secret</span>. By Talvi. 12mo., cloth, 75c.; paper, 50c.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'><i>HOWITT, MARY</i>. THE HEIR OF WAST WAYLAND. 12mo., paper, 38c.; cloth, 50c.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'><i>IO</i>;<span class="smcap"> a Tale of the Ancient Fane</span>. By Barton. 12mo., 75c.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'><i>JAMES MONTJOY</i>; <span class="smcap">or, I've Been Thinking</span>. By A.&nbsp;S. Roe. Two Parts, paper, 75c.; cloth, $1.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'><i>LIFE'S DISCIPLINE</i>.&mdash;A <span class="smcap">Tale of the Annals of Hungary</span>. By Talvi, author of "Heloise," &amp;c. 12mo., paper, 38c.; cloth, 68c.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'><i>LOVER, SAMUEL</i>.&mdash;HANDY ANDY. 8vo., paper cover, 60c.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>&mdash;&mdash; L.&nbsp;S.&nbsp;D., <span class="smcap">Treasure Trove</span>. 8vo., paper, 25c.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'><i>MARGARET CECIL</i>; <span class="smcap">or, "I Can, Because I Ought</span>." By Cousin Kate. 12mo., paper, 50c.; cloth, 75c.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'><i>McINTOSH, M.&nbsp;J</i>.&mdash;TWO LIVES; <span class="smcap">or, To Seem and To Be</span>. 12mo., cloth, 75c.; paper, 50c.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>&mdash;&mdash; AUNT KITTY'S TALES. 12mo., cloth, 75c.; paper, 50c.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>&mdash;&mdash; CHARMS AND COUNTER CHARMS. Paper, 75c.; cloth, $1.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'><i>MAIDEN AUNT</i>(The). A Story. By S.&nbsp;M. 12mo., paper, 50c.; cloth, 75c.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'><i>MANZONI</i>.&mdash;THE BETROTHED LOVERS. 2 vols., 12mo, cloth, $1 50c.; paper, $1.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'><i>MARGARET MAITLAND</i>; (Some Passages in the Life of). 12mo., paper, 50c.; cloth, 75c.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'><i>MAXWELL'S</i> HILL-SIDE AND BORDER SKETCHES. 8vo., paper cover, reduced to 25c.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>&mdash;&mdash; FORTUNES OF HECTOR O'HALLORAN. 8vo., paper cover, 50c.; 28 plates; boards, $1.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'><i>MORTON MONTAGUE</i>; <span class="smcap">or, Young Christian's Choice</span>. By C.&nbsp;B. Mortimer. 12mo., cloth, 75c.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'><i>NATHALIE</i>. A Tale. By Julia Kavanagh, author of "Woman in France," "Madeleine," &amp;c. 12mo., paper, 75c.; cloth, $l.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'><i>NORMAN LESLIE</i>. A Tale. By G.&nbsp;C.&nbsp;H. 12mo., cloth, 75c; paper, 50c.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'><i>ROSE DOUGLAS</i>; <span class="smcap">or, The Autobiography of a Minister's Daughter</span>. By S.&nbsp;R.&nbsp;W. 12mo., paper, 50c.; cloth, 75c.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'><i>SEWELL, E.&nbsp;M.</i>&mdash;THE EARL'S DAUGHTER. 12mo., cloth, 75c; paper, 50c.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>&mdash;&mdash; AMY HERBERT. A Tale. 12mo., cloth, 75c.; paper, 50c.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>&mdash;&mdash; GERTRUDE. A Tale. 12mo., cloth, 75c.; paper, 50c.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>&mdash;&mdash; LANETON PARSONAGE.  A Tale. 3 vols., 12mo., cloth, $2 25c.; paper, $l 50c.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>&mdash;&mdash; MARGARET PERCIVAL. 2 vols., cloth, $l 50; paper cover, $1.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>&mdash;&mdash; WALTER LORIMER, and other Tales. 12mo., illus., 75c.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>&mdash;&mdash; JOURNAL OF A TOUR, For the Children of a Village School. In Three Parts, paper, each 25c.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'><i>SOUTHWORTH, E.&nbsp;D.&nbsp;E.&nbsp;N.</i>. THE DESERTED WIFE. A Novel. 8vo., paper, 38c.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>&mdash;&mdash; SHANNONDALE. A Novel. 8vo., paper, 25c.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>&mdash;&mdash; THE MOTHER-IN-LAW; <span class="smcap">or, The Isle of Rays</span>. A Novel. 8vo., paper, 38c.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'><i>TO LOVE AND TO BE LOVED</i>. A Story. By A.&nbsp;S. Roe, Author of "James Montjoy," &amp;c. 12mo., cloth, 63c.; paper, 38c.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'><i>USES</i> (The) <i>OF SUNSHINE</i>. By S.&nbsp;M., Author of "The Maiden Aunt," &amp;c. 12mo., paper, 50c; cloth, 75c.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'><i>VILLAGE NOTARY</i>. A Romance of Hungarian Life. Translated from the Hungarian of Eotvos. 8vo., paper, 25c.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'><i>ZSCHOKKE</i>.&mdash;INCIDENTS OF SOCIAL LIFE. 12mo., cloth, $1.</p></div>
+
+
+<h3>MISCELLANEOUS WORKS.</h3>
+
+<div class="dbooklist"><p class='pbooklist'>APPLETON'S Library Manual. 8vo.
+Half bound, $1.25</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>&mdash;&mdash; Southern and Western
+Traveller's Guide.  With colored
+Maps.  18mo. $1.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>&mdash;&mdash; Northern and Eastern
+Traveller's Guide.  Twenty-four Maps.
+18mo. $1.25</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>&mdash;&mdash; New and Complete
+United States Guide-Book for Travellers.
+Numerous Maps.  18mo. $2.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>&mdash;&mdash; New-York City and
+Vicinity Guide. Maps. 38 cts.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>&mdash;&mdash; New-York City Map,
+for Pocket. 12 cts.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>AGNELL'S Book of Chess. A complete
+Guide to the Game.  With illustrations
+by R. W. Weir. 12mo. $1.25</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>ANDERSON, WM. Practical Mercantile
+Correspondence. 12mo. $1.25</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>ARNOLD, Dr. Miscellaneous Works.
+8vo. $2.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>&mdash;&mdash; History of Rome.
+New Edition. 1 vol., 8vo. $3.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>&mdash;&mdash; History of the Later
+Roman Commonwealth. 8vo. $2 50.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>&mdash;&mdash; Lectures on Modern
+History. Edited by Prof. Reed. $1 25.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>&mdash;&mdash; Life and Correspondence.
+By the Rev. A.&nbsp;P. Stanley. 2d
+Edition. 8vo. $2.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>AMELIA'S Poems. 1 vol. 12mo.
+Cloth, $1 25; gilt edges, $1 50</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>ANSTED'S Gold-Seeker's Manual.
+12mo. Paper, 25 cts.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>BOWEN, E. United States Post-Office
+Guide.  Map. 8vo. Paper, $1;
+Cloth, $1 25.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>BROOKS' Four Months among the
+Gold-Finders in California. 25 cts.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>BRYANT'S What I Saw in California.
+With Map. 12mo. $1 25</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>BROWNELL's Poems. 12mo. 75 c.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>CALIFORNIA Guide-Book. Embracing
+Fremont and Emory's Travels in
+California. 8mo. Map. Paper. 50 cts.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>CARLYLE'S Life of Frederick Schiller.
+12mo. Paper, 50 cts.; cloth, 75 cts.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>CHAPMAN'S Instructions to Young
+Marksmen on the Improved American Rifle.
+16mo. Illustrated.  $1 25.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>COOLEY, A.&nbsp;J. The Book of Useful
+Knowledge. Containing 6,000 Practical
+Receipts in all branches of Arts, Manufactures,
+and Trades. 8vo. Illustrated, $1 25.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>COOLEY, J.&nbsp;E. The American in
+Egypt. 8vo. Illustrated. $2.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>COIT, Dr. History of Puritanism.
+12mo. $1.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>CORNWALL, N.&nbsp;E. Music as It
+Was, and as It Is. 12mo. 63 cts.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>COUSIN'S Course of Modern Philosophy.
+Translated by Wiecht. 2 Vols.,
+12mo. $3.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>COGGESHALL'S Voyages to Various
+Parts of the World.  Illus. $1 25.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>DON QUIXOTTE DE LA MANCHA.
+With 18 Steel Engravings. 16mo.
+Cloth, $1 50.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>EMORY'S Notes of Travels In California.
+8vo. Paper, 25 cts.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>ELLIS, Mrs.  Women of England.
+12mo. 50 cts.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>&mdash;&mdash; Hearts and Homes: or
+Social Distinctions. A Story. Two Parts.
+8vo. Paper, $1; cloth, $1 50.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>EVELYN'S Life of Mrs. Godolphin.
+Edited by the Bishop of Oxford. 16mo.
+Cloth, 50 cts.; Paper, 38 cts.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>FAY, T.&nbsp;S. Ulric; or, The Voices.
+12mo. 75 cts.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>FOSTER'S Essays on Christian Morals.
+18mo.  50 cts.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>FREMONT'S Exploring Expedition
+to Oregon and California. 25 cts.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>FROST, Prof. Travels in Africa.
+12mo. Illustrated. $1.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>FALKNER'S Farmer's Manual.
+12mo. 50 cts.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>GARLAND'S Life of John Randolph.
+2 Vols., 12mo. Portraits, $2 50.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>GILFILLAN, GEO. Gallery of
+Literary Portraits. Second Series. 12mo.
+Paper, 75 cts.; cloth, $1.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>&mdash;&mdash; The Bards of
+the Bible. 12mo.; cloth, 50 cts.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>GOLDSMITH'S Vicar of Wakefield.
+12mo. Illustrated. 75 cts.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>GOULD, E.&nbsp;S. "The Very Age."
+A Comedy. 18mo. Paper, 38 cts.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>GRANT'S Memoirs of An American
+Lady. 12mo. Cloth, 75 cts.; paper, 50 cts.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>GUIZOT'S Democracy in France.
+12mo. Paper cover, 25 cts.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>&mdash;&mdash; History of Civilization.
+4 Vols. Cloth, $3 50.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>&mdash;&mdash; History of the English
+Revolution of 1640. Cloth, $1 25.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>HULL, Gen. Civil and Military
+Life. Edited by J.&nbsp;F. Clark. 8vo. $2.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>HOBSON. My Uncle Hobson and I.
+12mo. 75 cts.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>GOETHE'S IPHIGENIA IN TAURIS.
+A Drama in Five Acts. From the
+German by G.&nbsp;J. Adler. 12mo. 75 cts.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>KAVANAGH, JULIA. Women of
+Christianity, exemplary for Piety and Charity.
+12mo. Cloth, 75 cts.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>KENNY'S Manual of Chess. 18mo.
+38 cents.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>KOHLRAUSCH'S Complete History
+of Germany. 8vo. $1 50.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>KIP'S Christmas Holidays at Rome.
+12mo. $1.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>LAMB, CHAS. Final Memorials.
+Edited by Talfourd. 12mo. 75 cts.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>LAMARTINE'S Confidential Disclosures;
+or, Memoirs of My Youth. 50 c.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>LEE, E.&nbsp;B. Life of Jean Paul F.
+Richter. 12mo. $1&nbsp;25.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>LEGER'S History of Animal Magnetism.
+12mo. $1.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>LETTERS FROM THREE CONTINENTS.
+By R.&nbsp;M. Ward. 12mo.
+Cloth, $1.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>LORD, W.&nbsp;W. Poems. 12mo. 75&nbsp;c.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>&mdash;&mdash; Christ in Hades.
+12mo. 75 cts.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>MACKINTOSH, M.&nbsp;J. Woman in
+America. Cloth, 62 cts.; paper, 38 cts.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>MAHON'S (Lord) History of England.
+Edited by Prof. Reed. 2 Vols.,
+8vo. $4.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>MICHELET'S History of France.
+2 Vols., 8vo. $3&nbsp;50.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>&mdash;&mdash; Life of Martin Luther.
+12mo. 75 cts.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>&mdash;&mdash; History of Roman
+Republic. 12mo. $1.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>&mdash;&mdash; The People. 12mo.
+Cloth. 63 cts.: paper, 38 cts.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>MATTHEWS &amp; YOUNG. Whist
+and Short Whist, 18mo. Cloth, gilt, 45 cts.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>MILES on the Horse's Foot; How
+to Keep it Sound. 12mo. Cuts. 25 cts.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>MILTON's Paradise Lost. 38 cts.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>MOORE, C.&nbsp;C. Life of George Castriot,
+King of Albania. 12mo. Cloth, $1.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>NAPOLEON, Life of, from the
+French of Laurent de l'Ardechee. 2 Vols.
+in 1. 8vo. 500 Cuts. Im. mor., $3.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>OATES, GEO. Tables of Sterling
+Exchange, from &pound;1 to &pound;10,000&mdash;from 1-8th
+of one per cent. to twelve and a half per
+cent., by eighths, etc., etc. 8vo. $3.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>&mdash;&mdash; Interest Tables at 6
+per cent. per Annum. 8vo. $2.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>&mdash;&mdash; Abridged Edit. $1&nbsp;25.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>&mdash;&mdash; Interest Tables at 7
+per cent. per Annum. 8vo. $2.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>&mdash;&mdash; Abridged Edit. $1&nbsp;25.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>&mdash;&mdash; Sterling Interest Tables
+at 5 per cent. per Annum, from &pound;1 to
+&pound;10,000. 4to. $5.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>O'CALLAGHAN'S History of New
+York under the Dutch. 2 Vols. $5.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>POWELL'S Living Authors of
+England. 12mo. $1.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>REPUBLIC OF THE UNITED
+STATES; Its Duties, &amp;c. 12mo. $1.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>REID'S New English Dictionary,
+with Derivations. 12mo. $1.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>RICHARDSON on Dogs. Their
+History, Treatment, &amp;c. Cuts. 25 cts.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>ROBINSON CRUSOE. Only complete
+Edition. 350 Cuts. 8vo. $1&nbsp;50.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>ROWAN'S History of the French
+Revolution. 2 Vols. in 1. 63 cts.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>SOYER'S Modern Domestic Cookery.
+12mo. Paper cover, 75 cts; bd., $1.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>SCOTT'S Lady of the Lake. 38
+cents.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>SCOTT'S Marmion. 16mo. 37 cts.
+&mdash;&mdash; Lay of the Last Minstrel.
+25 cents.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>SELECT Italian Comedies. Translated.
+12mo. 75 cts.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>SPRAGUE'S History of the Florida
+War. Map and Plates. 8vo. $2&nbsp;50.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>SHAKSPEARE'S Dramatic Works
+and Life. 1 Vol., 8vo. $2.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>SOUTHEY'S Life of Oliver Cromwell.
+18mo. Cloth, 38 cts.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>STEWART'S Stable Economy. Edited
+by A.&nbsp;B. Allen. 12mo. Illustrated. $1.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>SOUTHGATE (Bishop). Visit to
+the Syrian Church. 12mo. $1.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>SQUIER'S Nicaragua; Its People.
+Antiquities, &amp;c. Maps and Plates. 2 Vols.,
+8vo. $5.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>STEVENS' Campaigns of the Rio
+Grande and Mexico. 8vo. Paper, 38 cts.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>SWETT, Dr. Treatise on the Diseases
+of the Chest. 8vo. $3.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>TAYLOR, Gen. Anecdote Book,
+Letters, &amp;c. 8vo. 25 cts.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>TUCKERMAN'S Artist Life. Biographical
+Sketches of American Painters.
+12mo. Cloth, 75 cts.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>TAYLOR'S Manual of Ancient and
+Modern History. Edited by Prof. Henry.
+8vo. Cloth, $2&nbsp;25; sheep, $2&nbsp;50.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>THOMSON on the Food of Animals
+and Man.  Cloth, 50 cts.; paper, 38 cts.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>TYSON, J.&nbsp;L.  Diary of a Physician
+in California.  8vo.  Paper, 25 cts.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>WAYLAND'S Recollections of Real
+Life in England. 18mo. 31 cts.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>WILLIAMS' Isthmus of Tehuantepec;
+Its Climate, Productions, &amp;c. Maps
+and Plates. 2 Vols., 8vo. $3&nbsp;50.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>WOMAN'S Worth; or, Hints to
+Raise the Female Character. 18mo. 38 cts.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>WARNER's Rudimental Lessons in
+Music. 18mo. 50 cts.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>WYNNE, J. Lives of Eminent
+Literary and Scientific Men of America.
+12mo. Cloth, $1.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>WORDSWORTH, W. The Prelude;
+An Autobiographical Poem. 12mo.
+Cloth, $1.</p></div>
+
+
+<h3><b>LAW BOOKS.</b></h3>
+
+<div class="dbooklist"><p class='pbooklist'>ANTHON'S Law Study; or, Guides
+to the Study of the Law. 8vo. $3.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>HOLCOMBE'S Digest of the Decisions
+of the Supreme Court of the United
+States, from its commencement to the present
+time. Large 8vo. Law sheep, $6.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>&mdash;&mdash; Supreme Court Leading
+Cases in Commercial Law. 8vo. $4.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>&mdash;&mdash; Law of Debtor and
+Creditor in the United States and Canada.
+8vo. $4.</p>
+
+<p class='pbooklist'>SMITH's Compendium of Mercantile Law.
+With large American addition
+by Holcombe and Gholang. 8vo. $4&nbsp;50.</p></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
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+<h2><a name="FOOTNOTES" id="FOOTNOTES"></a>FOOTNOTES:</h2>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a>  I know not the author of this beautiful hymn. It will be found in a
+collection of great merit, called "Songs of the Night."</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_2_2" id="Footnote_2_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_2"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> For this sketch, which for beauty of description, and wild, thrilling
+interest, will compare favorably with any known to me, I am indebted to
+my friend, Mr. C. Whitehead.       M.&nbsp;J. Mc.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_3_3" id="Footnote_3_3"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3_3"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> Plato calls Truth the body of God, and Light His shadow.</p></div>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_4_4" id="Footnote_4_4"></a><a href="#FNanchor_4_4"><span class="label">[4]</span></a>  These lines were extracted from a satirical poem published many
+years since, under the title of "The Devil's Progress."</p></div>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's Evenings at Donaldson Manor, by Maria J. McIntosh
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diff --git a/20018.txt b/20018.txt
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+++ b/20018.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,9956 @@
+Project Gutenberg's Evenings at Donaldson Manor, by Maria J. McIntosh
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Evenings at Donaldson Manor
+       Or, The Christmas Guest
+
+Author: Maria J. McIntosh
+
+Release Date: December 4, 2006 [EBook #20018]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK EVENINGS AT DONALDSON MANOR ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Ralph Janke and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This book was
+produced from scanned images of public domain material
+from the Google Print project.)
+
+
+
+
+
+Transcriber's note:
+
+Phrases enclosed in "_" are printed in italics style in the original
+Phrases enclosed in "=" are printed in bold style in the original
+Phrases that are printed in "small capitals" are converted into upper case
+
+
+
+
+Maria J. McIntosh's Works. _PUBLISHED BY D. APPLETON & CO_
+
+
+I. EVENINGS AT DONALDSON MANOR; OR, THE CHRISTMAS GUEST.
+
+BY MARIA J. McINTOSH.
+
+_Illustrated with Ten Steel Engravings, 8vo., cloth, gilt edges, $3;
+morocco, $4._
+
+     "The whole sparkle with strokes of pleasantry and lively criticism,
+     and ever and anon reveal most delightful pictures of fireside
+     groups. A high-toned morality pervades the whole. We feel sure that
+     the book will be a general favorite."--_Commercial Advertiser._
+
+     "It is a book that parents may buy for their children, brothers for
+     their sisters, or husbands for their wives, with the assurance that
+     the book will not only give pleasure, but convey lessons of love
+     and charity that can hardly fail to leave durable impressions of
+     moral and social duty upon the mind and heart of the
+     reader."--_Evening Mirror._
+
+
+II.
+
+WOMAN IN AMERICA; HER WORK AND HER REWARD.
+
+BY MARIA J. McINTOSH.
+
+_One Volume, 12mo., paper covers, 50c.; cloth, 75c._
+
+     "We like this work exceedingly, and our fair countrywomen will
+     admire it still more than we do. It is written in the true spirit,
+     and evinces extensive observation of society, a clear insight into
+     the evils surrounding and pressing down her sex, and a glorious
+     determination to expose and remove them. Read her work. She will
+     win a willing way to the heart and home of woman, and her mission
+     will be found to be one of beneficence and love. Truly, woman has
+     her work and her reward."--_American Spectator._
+
+     "We thank Miss McIntosh for her 'Woman in America.' She has written
+     a clever book, containing much good 'word and truth,' many valuable
+     thoughts and reflections, which ought to be carefully considered by
+     every American lady."--_Protestant Churchman._
+
+
+III.
+
+CHARMS AND COUNTER-CHARMS.
+
+BY MARIA J. McINTOSH.
+
+_One Volume, 12mo., cloth, $1; or in Two Parts, paper, 75c._
+
+     "This is one of those healthful, _truthful_ works of fiction, which
+     improve the heart and enlighten the judgment, whilst they furnish
+     amusement to the passing hour. The style is clear, easy and simple,
+     and the construction of the story artistic in a high degree. We
+     commend most cordially the book."--_Tribune._
+
+
+IV.
+
+TWO LIVES; OR, TO SEEM AND TO BE.
+
+BY MARIA J. McINTOSH.
+
+_One Volume, 12mo., paper covers, 50c.; cloth, 75c._
+
+     "The previous works of Miss McIntosh, although issued anonymously,
+     have been popular in the best sense of the word. The simple beauty
+     of her narratives, combining pure sentiment with high principle,
+     and noble views of life and its duties, ought to win for them a
+     hearing at every fireside in our land. We have rarely perused a
+     tale more interesting and instructive than the one before us, and
+     we commend it most cordially to the attention of all our
+     readers."--_Protestant Churchman._
+
+
+V.
+
+AUNT KITTY'S TALES.
+
+BY MARIA J. McINTOSH.
+
+_A new edition, complete in One Vol., 12mo., cloth, 75c.; paper, 50c._
+
+     This volume contains the following delightfully interesting
+     stories: "Blind Alice," "Jessie Graham," "Florence Arnott," "Grace
+     and Clara," "Ellen Leslie; or, the Reward of Self Control."
+
+
+
+
+POPULAR BOOKS FOR DOMESTIC READING =PUBLISHED BY D. APPLETON & CO.=
+
+Most of these volumes may be had in cloth, gilt edges, at 25 cts. per
+vol. extra.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+=GRACE AGUILAR'S WORKS.=
+
+  1. HOME SCENES AND HEART STUDIES. 12mo., cloth, 75 cents; paper
+    cover, 50 cents.
+
+  2. THE DAYS OF BRUCE. 2 vols. 12mo., cloth, $1.50.
+
+  3. THE WOMEN OF ISRAEL. 2 vols. 12mo., clo. $1.50, pap. $1.
+
+  4. THE MOTHER'S RECOMPENSE. 12mo., cloth, 75 cents; paper, 50
+    cents.
+
+  5. THE VALE OF CEDARS; or, the Martyr. 12mo., cloth, 75 cts.;
+    paper, 50 cts.
+
+  6. WOMAN'S FRIENDSHIP; a Domestic Story. 12mo., cloth, 75 cts.;
+    paper, 50 cts.
+
+
+=MRS. ELLIS'S LAST WORK.=
+
+  HEARTS AND HOMES; a Story. Two parts bound in 1 vol. 8vo., cloth,
+    $1.50; paper, $1.
+
+
+=MISS SEWELL'S WORKS.=
+
+  1. THE EARL'S DAUGHTER; a Tale. 12mo., cloth, 75 cts., paper, 50
+    cts.
+
+  2. GERTRUDE; a Tale. 1 vol. 12mo., cloth, 75 cts.; paper, 50 cts.
+
+  3. AMY HERBERT. 1 vol. 12mo., cloth, 75 cts.; paper, 50 cts.
+
+  4. MARGARET PERCIVAL. 2 vols. 12mo., cloth $1.50; paper, $1.
+
+  5. LANETON PARSONAGE. 3 vols. 12mo., clo., $2.25; pap., $1.50.
+
+  6. WALTER LORIMER, with other Tales. Illustrated. 12mo., cloth, 75
+    cts.; paper, 50 cts.
+
+  7. JOURNAL OF A SUMMER TOUR. 12mo., cloth, $1.
+
+  8. EXPERIENCE OF LIFE. 12mo. (Just ready.) Cloth, 75 cts.; paper,
+    50 cts.
+
+
+=MISS McINTOSH'S WORKS.=
+
+  1. EVENINGS AT DONALDSON MANOR. 12mo., clo., 75 cts.
+
+  2. TWO LIVES; or, To Seem and To Be: a Tale. 12mo., cloth, 75
+    cts.; paper, 50 cts.
+
+  3. AUNT KITTY'S TALES. 1 vol. 12mo., clo., 75 cts.; pap., 50 cts.
+
+  4. CHARMS AND COUNTER-CHARMS; a Tale. 1 vol. 12mo., cloth, $1;
+    paper, 75 cts.
+
+  5. WOMAN IN AMERICA. 12mo., cloth 62 cts.; paper, 50 cts.
+
+  6. THE LOFTY AND THE LOWLY. 2 vols. 12mo., cloth. (Just ready.)
+
+
+=JULIA KAVANAGH'S WORKS.=
+
+  1. DAISY BURNS. 1 vol. 12mo., cloth, or paper. (Just ready.)
+
+  2. MADELEINE; a Tale. 1 vol. 12mo., cloth, 75 cts.; paper, 50 cts.
+
+  3. NATHALIE; a Tale. 1 vol. 12mo., cloth, $1; paper, 75 cts.
+
+  4. WOMEN OF CHRISTIANITY. 1 vol. 12mo., cloth, 75 cts.
+
+
+=WORKS BY A. S. ROE.=
+
+  1. TO LOVE AND TO BE LOVED. 1 vol. 12mo., cloth, 63 cts.
+
+  2. JAMES MONTJOY. 1 vol. 12mo., cloth, 75 cts.; paper, 62 cts.
+
+  3. TIME AND TIDE. 1 vol. 12mo., 62 cts.; paper, 38 cts.
+
+
+=LADY FULLERTON.=
+
+  1. GRANTLEY MANOR; a Tale. 1 vol. 12mo., cloth, 75 cts.; paper,
+    50 cts.
+
+  2. ELLEN MIDDLETON; a Tale. 1 vol. 12mo., cloth, 75 cts.; paper,
+    50 cts.
+
+
+
+
+EVENINGS
+
+AT
+
+DONALDSON MANOR;
+
+OR,
+
+The Christmas Guest.
+
+
+
+BY MARIA J. McINTOSH,
+
+AUTHOR OF
+
+"TWO LIVES," "CHARMS AND COUNTER-CHARMS," ETC., ETC.
+
+
+
+A NEW REVISED EDITION.
+
+
+    "Oh Winter! ruler of the inverted year,
+    I crown thee king of intimate delights,
+    Fireside enjoyments, homeborn happiness."
+
+COWPER.
+
+NEW-YORK:
+D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, 200 BROADWAY,
+AND 16 LITTLE BRITAIN, LONDON.
+1853.
+
+
+
+
+PREFACE TO THE ENGLISH EDITION.
+
+
+In Miss McIntosh we fondly and proudly greet a transatlantic sister, and
+as delightedly introduce her, a "CHRISTMAS GUEST," to our own home
+circle. She is worthy of all honor and affection.
+
+Miss McIntosh's writings are eminently pure in feeling--tender,
+graceful, and elegant in manner. Their moral, simply and unstrainedly
+developed, is invariably excellent--generously exciting, stimulating,
+encouraging all the noblest energies of our nature. To use her own
+words, addressed to her friends in America, and with equal propriety may
+they be accepted by the rising generation, and by every grade of
+society, at every period of life, in her unforgotten fatherland--"From
+the examples she will present to them, they may learn that to the brave
+and true and faithful heart, 'all things are possible'--that he who
+clings to the good and the holy amidst temptation and trial, will find
+peace and light within him, though all without be storm and darkness;
+and that in a right understanding and unfaltering performance of
+duty--not in the pomps and pleasures of a self-indulgent life, lie our
+true glory and happiness."
+
+Not a tale, not a sketch, not an appeal to the heart or to the mind in
+any form, does our fair sister commit to paper, that is not pervaded,
+though unobtrusively, by a strain of the sweetest, gentlest, most
+cheerful and soul-elevating piety; it is hers at once to soothe, to
+charm, and to exhilarate.
+
+Our "CHRISTMAS GUEST" well knows how to furnish forth a feast of
+infinite variety. Few, if any, will arise from a perusal of her
+delightful "word-painting" of life, incident, adventure, and character,
+without being wiser, better, happier; without enjoying a more entire
+confidingness in Heaven--in HIM, that _God of love and goodness_, whom
+Christians unite to worship.
+
+LONDON, December 4, 1850.
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS.
+
+
+                                                             PAGE
+CHAPTER I.
+INTRODUCTORY,                                                  9
+
+CHAPTER II.
+"THE MAIN CHANCE,"                                            17
+
+CHAPTER III.
+THE CRADLE-SONG; A FREE TRANSLATION FROM KOeRNER,              35
+THE BROTHERS; OR, IN THE FASHION, AND ABOVE THE FASHION,      37
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+LOSS AND GAIN; OR, HEARTS VERSUS DIAMONDS,                    48
+
+CHAPTER V.
+THE BIRD'S RELEASE. BY MRS. HEMANS,                           70
+THE YOUNG MISANTHROPE,                                        72
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+LIFE IN AMERICA,                                              91
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+SUNDAY,                                                      126
+EVENING HYMN,                                                128
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+THE WOLF CHASE,                                              133
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+THE HISTORY OF AN OLD MAID,                                  140
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+THE FAMILY MEETING,                                          166
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+THE DYING HEBREW,                                            169
+"ONLY A MECHANIC,"                                           172
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+LOVE AND PRIDE,                                              196
+
+CHAPTER XIII.
+
+THE TEST OF LOVE. A STORY OF THE LAST WAR,                   227
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+
+THE FLOWER ANGELS,                                           266
+
+
+
+
+THE
+
+CHRISTMAS GUEST;
+
+OR,
+
+EVENINGS AT DONALDSON MANOR.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+
+The largest and the most picturesque country-house of all I know in
+America, is the mansion house of my friends, the Donaldsons. I would
+gladly inform the reader of its locality, but this Colonel Donaldson has
+positively prohibited, for a reason too flattering to my self-love to be
+resisted.
+
+"You know, my dear Madam,"--I give his own words, by which I hope the
+courteous reader will understand that I am really too modest even to
+seem to adopt the flattering sentiment they convey--"You know, my dear
+madam, that your description will be read by every body who is any body,
+and that through it my simple home will become classic ground. If I
+permit you to direct the tourist tribe to it, I shall be pestered out of
+my life when summer comes, by travelling artists, would-be poets, and
+romantic young ladies."
+
+I may not therefore, dear reader, tell you whether this pleasant abode
+be washed by the waves of the Atlantic or by the turbid current of the
+Mississippi; whether it be fanned by the flower-laden zephyrs of the
+South, or by the health-inspiring breezes of the North. The exterior
+must indeed have been left wholly to your imagination, had I not
+fortunately obtained a sketch from a young friend, an _amateur_ artist,
+of whom I shall have more to say presently. As I could not in honor
+present you with even this poor substitute, as I trust you will consider
+it, for my word-painting, without Colonel Donaldson's consent, I have
+been compelled, in deference to his wish, to divest the picture of every
+thing that would mark the geographical position of the place
+represented. The shape of its noble old trees we have been permitted to
+retain; but their foliage we have been obliged to render so
+indistinctly, that even Linnaeus himself would find it impossible to
+decide whether it belonged to the elm of the North when clothed in all
+its summer luxuriance, or to the gigantic live-oak of the South. Even of
+the house itself we have been permitted to give but a rear view, lest
+the more marked features of the landscape in front should hint of its
+whereabouts. As to the figures which appear in the foreground of the
+picture, they are but figments of my young artist friend's imagination.
+One of them you may observe carries under the arm a sheaf of wheat, not
+a stalk of which I assure you ever grew on the Donaldson lands.
+
+Even from this imperfect picture of the exterior, you will perceive that
+the house is, as I have said, both large and picturesque. Within, the
+rooms go rambling about in such a strange fashion, that an unaccustomed
+guest attempting to make his way without a guide to the _chambre de
+nuit_ in which he had slept only the night before, would be very apt to
+find himself in the condition of a certain bird celebrated in nursery
+rhymes as wandering,
+
+    Up stairs and down stairs
+    And in the ladies' chambers.
+
+In this house have the Donaldsons lived and died for nearly two hundred
+years, and during all that time they have never failed to observe the
+Christmas with right genuine, old English hospitality. Then, their sons
+and their daughters, their men-servants and their maid-servants, and the
+stranger within their gates, felt the genial influence of their
+gratitude to Him who added year after year almost unbroken temporal
+prosperity to the priceless gift commemorated by that festival. At many
+of these _reunions_ it has been my good fortune to be present. Indeed,
+though only "AUNT Nancy," by that courtesy which so often accords to the
+single sisterhood some endearing title, as a consolation, I presume, for
+the more honorable one of MRS. which their good or evil fortune has
+denied them, I have been ever received at Donaldson Manor as at my own
+familiar home; nor was it matter of surprise to myself or to our mutual
+friends, when the Col. and Mrs. Donaldson named their fourth daughter
+after me, modifying the old-fashioned Nancy, however, into its more
+agreeable synonyme of Annie.
+
+This daughter has been, of course, my peculiar pet. In truth, however,
+she has been scarcely less the peculiar pet of father and mother,
+brothers and sisters, friends and neighbors--sweet Annie Donaldson, as
+all unite in calling her, and certainly a sweeter, fresher bud of beauty
+never opened to the light than my name-child. And yet, reader, it may be
+that could I faithfully stamp her portrait on my page, you would exclaim
+at my taste, and declare there was no beauty in it. I will even
+acknowledge that you may be right, and that there is nothing
+artistically beautiful in the dark-gray eyes, the clear and healthy yet
+not dazzlingly fair complexion, the straight though glossy dark-brown
+hair, and the form, rounded and buoyant, but neither tall enough to be
+dignified nor _petite_ enough to be fairy-like. But sure I am that you
+could not know the spirit, gentle and playful yet lofty and earnest,
+which looks out from her eyes and speaks in her clear, silvery tones and
+graceful gestures, without feeling that Annie Donaldson is beautiful.
+Nor am I alone in this opinion. My friend Mr. Arlington fully agrees
+with me, as you would be convinced if you could see the admiring
+expression with which he gazes on her. As this gentleman cannot plead
+the Colonel's reason for any reserve respecting his place of residence,
+I shall not hesitate to inform the reader that he is a young lawyer of
+New-York, who has preserved, amidst much study and some business, the
+natural taste necessary to the enjoyment of country scenes and country
+sports. During those weeks of summer when New-York is deserted, alike by
+the wearied man of business and the _ennuye_ idler, Mr. Arlington,
+instead of rushing with the latter to the overcrowded hotels of Saratoga
+and Newport, takes his gun and dog, his pencil and sketch-book, and with
+an agreeable companion, or, if this may not be, some choice books, as a
+resource against a rainy day, he goes to some wild spot--the wilder the
+better--where he roves at will from point to point of interest and
+beauty, and spends his time in reading, sketching, and--alas, for human
+imperfection!--shooting. These vagrant habits first brought him into the
+neighborhood of Donaldson Manor, and he had for two successive summers
+hunted with the Colonel and sketched with the young ladies, when he was
+invited to join their Christmas party in 18--. Here I was introduced to
+him, and in a few days we were the best friends in the world.
+
+Mr. Arlington's sketch-book, of which I have already spoken, served to
+elicit one of our points of sympathy. Bound down by the iron chain of
+necessity to that point of space occupied by my own land, and that point
+of time filled by my own life, yet with a heart longing for acquaintance
+with the beautiful distant and the noble past, I have ever loved the
+creations of that art which furnished food to these longings; and as my
+fortune has denied me the possession of fine _paintings_, I have become
+somewhat noted in my own little circle for my collection of fine
+_engravings_. Many of these have peculiar charms for me, from their
+association, fancied or real, with some place or person that does
+interest or has interested me. In the leisure of a solitary life, it has
+amused me to append to these engravings a description of the scenes or a
+narrative of the incidents which they suggested to my mind, and for
+their association with which I particularly valued them. Annie was well
+aware of the existence of these descriptions and narratives, and, with a
+pretty despotism which she often exercises over those she loves, she
+insisted that I should surrender them to her for the gratification of
+the assembled party. One condition only was I permitted to make in this
+surrender, and this was, that Mr. Arlington should also bring forth his
+portfolio for inspection, and should describe the _locale_ of the scene
+sketched, or relate the circumstances under which the sketches were
+made. A pretty _ruse_ this, my gentle Annie, by which you furnished the
+artist with an opportunity to display to others the talents which had
+charmed yourself. In accordance with this compact, the drawings, with
+their accompanying narratives, were produced, and received with such
+approbation, that by the same sweet tyranny which drew them from their
+hiding-places, we have been ordered to send this Christmas Guest to bear
+the simple stories to other houses, with the hope that they may give
+equal pleasure to their inmates.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+
+Merrily blazed the wood fire in the huge old chimney of the large parlor
+in which we were accustomed to assemble in the evening, at Donaldson
+Manor, and its light was thrown upon faces bright with good-humored
+merriment, yet not without some touch of deeper and more earnest
+feeling. That party would of itself have made an interesting picture.
+There was Col. Donaldson, tall, gaunt, his figure slightly bent, yet
+evincing no feebleness, his curling snow-white locks, his broad bold
+forehead, and shaggy brows overhanging eyes beaming with kindness.
+Beside him sat Mrs. Donaldson, still beautiful in her green old age. Her
+face was usually pale, yet her clear complexion, and the bright eyes
+that looked out from beneath the rich Valenciennes border of her cap,
+redeemed it from the appearance of ill health. Her form, stately yet
+inclining to _embonpoint_, was shown to advantage by the soft folds of
+the rich and glossy satin dress which ordinarily, at mid-day, took the
+place in summer of her cambric morning-dress, and in winter of her
+cashmere _robe de chambre_. Mrs. Donaldson has a piece of fancy netting
+which she reserves for her evening work, because, she says, it does not
+make much demand upon her eyes. This the mischievous and privileged
+Annie calls "Penelope's Web," declaring, that whatever is done on it in
+the evening is undone the next morning. Around the table, on which the
+brightest lights were placed for the convenience of those who would
+read or sew, clustered the two married daughters of the house--who
+always return to their "_home_," as they still continue to call
+Donaldson Manor, for the Christmas holidays--Annie, Mr. Arlington, and
+myself. Miss Donaldson, the eldest daughter of my worthy friends, is the
+housekeeper of the family, and usually sits quietly beside her mother,
+somewhat fatigued probably by the active employments of her day. The two
+sons of Col. Donaldson, the elder of whom is only twenty-three, his
+sons-in-law, and his grandson, Robert Dudley, a fine lad of twelve, give
+animation to the scene by moving hither and thither, now joining our
+group at the table, now discussing in a corner the amusements of
+to-morrow, and now entertaining us with a graphic account of to-day's
+adventures, of the sleighs upset, or the skating-matches won.
+
+Such was the party assembled little more than a week before Christmas
+the last year, when Annie called upon Mr. Arlington and myself to redeem
+the pledges we had given, and surrender our portfolios to her. Some
+slight contention arose between us on the question who should first
+contribute to the entertainment of the company; Mr. Arlington exclaiming
+"_Place aux Dames_," and I contending that there was great want of
+chivalry in thus putting a woman into the front of the battle. This
+little dispute was terminated by the proposal that Annie having been
+blindfolded to secure impartial justice, the two portfolios should be
+placed on the table, and she should choose, not only from which of them
+our entertainment should be drawn, but the very subject that should
+furnish it. Mr. Arlington vehemently applauded this proposal, and then
+urged that he must himself tie the handkerchief, as no one else, he
+feared, would make it an effectual blind. Annie submitted to his demand,
+though she professed to feel great indignation at his implied doubt of
+her honesty. No one else, we believe, would have taken so much time for
+the disposal of this screen, or been so careful in the arrangement of
+the bands of hair over which, or through which, the handkerchief was
+passed; and the touch of no other hand, perhaps, would have called up so
+bright a color to the cheeks, and even to the brow, of our sweet Annie.
+When permitted to exercise her office, Annie, to my great pleasure,
+without an instant's hesitation, while a mischievous little smile played
+at the corners of her mouth, placed her hand on Mr. Arlington's
+portfolio, and drew from it a paper, which, on being exhibited, was
+found to contain the pencilled outline of many heads grouped together in
+various positions, some being apparently elevated considerably above the
+others.
+
+"Ah, Miss Annie!" exclaimed Mr. Arlington, with considerable
+satisfaction apparent in his voice and manner, "you must try again, and
+I think I must trouble you, ladies, for another handkerchief. This seems
+to me to have been scarcely thick enough."
+
+"I appeal to the company," cried Annie, "whether this is in accordance
+with Mr. Arlington's engagement. Was he not to accept any thing I should
+draw from his portfolio as the foundation of his sketch?"
+
+"Ay, ay," was responded from every part of the room.
+
+"But pray, my good friends," persisted Mr. Arlington, "observe the
+impossibility of compliance with your demand. How can I possibly hope to
+entertain you by any thing based upon that memento of an idle hour in
+court, which I should long ago have destroyed, had I not fancied that I
+could detect in those sketchy outlines--those mere profiles--very
+accurate likenesses of the heads for which they were taken?"
+
+"Those heads look as though they might have histories attached to them,"
+said Annie, as she bent to examine them more narrowly.
+
+"Histories indeed they have," said Mr. Arlington.
+
+"Give them to us," suggested Col. Donaldson.
+
+"You have them already. These are all men whose histories are as well
+known to the public as to their own families. There is the elder K----,
+at once so simple in heart and so acute in mind. Cannot you read both in
+his face? There is his son; and there is D. B. O----, and O. H----, and
+G----, and J----. What can I tell you of any of them that you do not
+know already?"
+
+"Who are these?" asked Annie, pointing to two heads, placed somewhat
+aloof from the rest, and near each other. "That older face is so
+benevolent in its expression, and the younger has so noble a
+physiognomy, and looks with such reverence on his companion, that I am
+persuaded they have a history beyond that which belongs to the world. Is
+it not so?"
+
+"It is. Those are Mr. Cavendish and Herbert Latimer. They have a
+history, and I will give it you if you desire it, though, thus
+impromptu, I must do it very imperfectly I fear."
+
+"No apologies," said Col. Donaldson. "Begin, and do your best; no one
+can do more."
+
+"Than _my_ best," said Mr. Arlington, with a smile, "thank you. My
+narrative will have at least one recommendation--truth--as I have
+received its incidents from Latimer himself."
+
+Without further preliminary, Mr. Arlington commenced the relation of the
+following circumstances, which he has since written out, by Annie's
+request, at somewhat greater length for insertion here, giving it the
+title of
+
+
+THE MAIN CHANCE.
+
+Herbert Latimer was only twenty when, having passed the usual
+examination, he was admitted, by a special act of the legislative
+assembly of his native State, to practise at the bar. Young as he was,
+he had already experienced some of the severest vicissitudes of life.
+His father had been a bold, and for many years a successful merchant,
+and the young Herbert, his only child, had been born and nurtured in the
+lap of wealth and luxury. He was only sixteen--a boy--but a boy full of
+the noble aspirations and lofty hopes that make manhood honorable, when
+his father died. Mr. Latimer's last illness had been probably rendered
+fatal by the intense anxiety of mind he endured while awaiting
+intelligence of the result of a mercantile operation, on which, contrary
+to the cautious habits of his earlier years, he had risked well nigh all
+he possessed. He did not live to learn that it had completely failed,
+and that his wife and child were left with what would have seemed to him
+the merest pittance for their support.
+
+The character and talents of young Latimer were well known to his
+father's friends, and more than one among them offered him a clerkship
+on what could not but be considered as very advantageous terms. To these
+offers Herbert listened with painful indecision. For himself, he would
+have suffered cheerfully any privation, rather than relinquish the
+career which his inclinations had prompted, and with which were
+connected all his glowing visions of the future--but his mother--had he
+a right to refuse what would enable her to preserve all her accustomed
+elegances and indulgences?
+
+"You must be aware, Master Latimer," said he who had made him the most
+liberal offers, and who saw him hesitating on their acceptance, "you
+must be aware that only my friendship for your father could induce me to
+offer such terms to so young a man, howsoever capable. Three hundred
+dollars this year, five hundred the next, if you give satisfaction in
+the performance of your duties, a thousand dollars after that till you
+are of age, and then a share in the business equal to one-fourth of its
+profits--these are terms, sir, which I would offer to no one else. Your
+father was a friend to me, sir, and I would be a friend to his son."
+
+"I feel your kindness and liberality, sir."
+
+"And yet you hesitate?"
+
+"Will you permit me, sir, to ask till to-morrow for consideration? I
+must consult my mother."
+
+"That is right, young man; that is right. She knows something of life,
+and will, I doubt not, advise you to close with so unexceptionable an
+offer."
+
+"Whatever she may advise, sir, be assured I will do."
+
+"I have no doubt then, sir, that I shall see you to-morrow prepared to
+take your place in my store. Good morning."
+
+Assuming as cheerful an air as he could, Herbert went from this
+interview to his mother's sitting room. Mrs. Latimer raised her eyes to
+his as he entered, and reading with a mother's quick perception the
+disturbance of his mind, she asked him in a tone of alarm, "What is the
+matter, Herbert?"
+
+"Only a very pleasant matter, mother," said Herbert, with forced
+cheerfulness, which he endeavored to preserve while relating the offer
+just received.
+
+"And would you relinquish the study of the law, Herbert?" inquired Mrs.
+Latimer.
+
+"Not if I could help it, mother; but you know Mr. Woodleigh told you
+that five hundred dollars a year was the utmost that he could hope to
+save for you. If I study law, it must be several years before I can add
+any thing to this sum--I may even be compelled----" The features of
+Herbert worked, tears rushed to his eyes, and he turned away, unable to
+speak the thought that distressed him.
+
+"You speak of what can be saved for _me_, Herbert--of what _you_ may be
+compelled to do. Do you suppose that we can have separate interests in
+this question?--are not your hopes my hopes--will not your success, your
+triumph, be mine too? The only consideration for us, it seems to me, is
+whether the profession you have chosen and the prospects open to you in
+it, are worth some present sacrifice."
+
+"They are worth every sacrifice on my part--but you, mother----"
+
+"Have no separate interest from my child--I have shared all your hopes,
+all your aspirations, Herbert, and it would cost me less to live on
+bread and water, to dress coarsely, and lodge hardly for the next five
+years, than to yield my anticipations of your future success."
+
+Others had felt _for_ Herbert, and had offered to aid him, and he had
+turned from them with a deeper sense of his need and diminished
+confidence in his own powers--his mother felt _with_ him, and he was
+cheered and strengthened. The offers of the friendly merchant were
+gratefully declined. By the sale of her jewels, Mrs. Latimer obtained
+the sum necessary to meet the expenses incident to her son's first
+entrance on his professional studies. She then appropriated three
+hundred dollars of their little income to his support in the city, and
+withdrew herself to the country, where, she said, the remaining two
+hundred would supply all her wants. When Herbert would have remonstrated
+against these arrangements, she reminded him that they were intended to
+accomplish her own wishes no less than his. He ceased to remonstrate,
+but he did what was better--he acted--and the very first year, by
+self-denying economy and industry, he was enabled to return to her fifty
+dollars of the amount she had allotted to him. The second year he did
+better, and the third year Mrs. Latimer was able to return to the city
+and board at the same house with her son. It was only by the joy she
+expressed at their re-union that Herbert learned how painful the
+separation had been to her. She would not waste his strength and her own
+in vain lamentation over a necessary evil. Four years sufficed to
+prepare Herbert Latimer for his profession, and through the influence of
+some of his mother's early friends, exerted at her earnest request, the
+legislative act which permitted his entrance on its duties, was passed.
+The knowledge of his circumstances had excited a warm interest for him
+in many minds, and they who heard his name for the first time, when he
+stood before them for examination, could not but feel prepossessed in
+favor of the youth, on whose bold brow deep and lofty thoughts had left
+their impress, and in whose grave, earnest eyes the spirit seer might
+have read the history of a life of endurance and silent struggle. All
+were interested in him--all evinced that interest by gentle courtesy of
+manner--and almost all seemed desirous to make his examination as light
+as possible--all save one--one usually as remarkable for his indulgence
+to young aspirants, as for the legal acumen and extensive knowledge,
+which had won for him a large share of the profits and honors of his
+profession. His associates now wondered to find him so rigidly exact in
+his trial of young Latimer's acquirements.
+
+"You were very severe on our young tyro to-day," said a brother lawyer,
+and one on whom early associations and similarity of pursuits, rather
+than of tastes, had conferred the privileges of a friend on Mr.
+Cavendish, as they walked together from the court-house.
+
+"I saw that he did not need indulgence, and I gave him an opportunity of
+proving to others that he did not--but I had another and more selfish
+reason for my rigid test of his powers."
+
+Mr. Cavendish spoke smilingly, and his friend was emboldened to
+ask--"And pray what selfish motive could you have for it!"
+
+"I wished to see whether he would suit me as a partner."
+
+"A partner!"
+
+"Yes--when a man has lived for half a century, he begins to think that
+he may possibly grow old some day, and I would provide myself with a
+young partner, who may take the laboring oar in my business when age
+compels me to lay it aside."
+
+"All that may do very well--I have some thought of doing the same
+myself; but I shall look out for a young man who is well connected.
+Connections do a great deal for us, you know, and we must always have an
+eye to the main chance."
+
+"I agree with you, but we should probably differ about what constitutes
+the main chance."
+
+"There surely can be no difference about that; it means with every one
+the one thing needful."
+
+"And what is, in your opinion, the one thing needful?"
+
+"Why this, to be sure," and Mr. Duffield drew his purse from his pocket,
+and shook it playfully.
+
+"A somewhat different use of the term from that which the Bible makes,"
+said Mr. Cavendish.
+
+"Oh! let the Bible alone, and let me hear what you think of it."
+
+"Pardon me, I cannot let the Bible alone if I tell you my own opinions,
+for from the Bible I learned them."
+
+"It seems a strange book, I must say, to consult for a law of
+partnerships."
+
+"Had you a better acquaintance with it, Duffield, you would learn that
+its principles apply to all the relations of life. The difference
+between us is, that when you estimate man's chief object, or as you call
+it, his 'main chance,' you take only the present into view, you leave
+out of sight altogether the interminable future, with its higher hopes
+and deeper interests, and relations of immeasurably greater importance."
+
+"I find it enough for one poor brain to calculate for the present."
+
+"A great deal too much you will find it, if you leave out of your sum
+so important an item as the relations of that present to the future.
+Depend on it, Duffield, that he makes the most for this life, as well as
+for the next, of his time, his talents, and his wealth, who uses them as
+God's steward, for the happiness of his fellow-creatures, as well as for
+his own."
+
+"And so, for the happiness of your fellow-creatures, you are going to
+give away half of the best practice in the State?"
+
+"I am going to do no such thing. In the first place, I did not tell you
+that I was going to offer young Latimer an equal division of the profits
+of my practice; and for what I may offer him I have already taken care
+to ascertain that he can return a full equivalent. His talents need only
+a vantage-ground on which to act, and I rejoice to be able to give him
+that which my own early experience taught me to value."
+
+"Well--we shall see ten years hence how your rule and mine work. I think
+I shall offer a partnership to young Conway--he is already rising in his
+profession, and is connected with some of our wealthiest families."
+
+"Very well--we shall see."
+
+Herbert Latimer had nerved himself to endure five, or it might be ten
+more years of profitless toil, ere he should gain a position which would
+make his talents available for more than the mere essentials of
+existence. Let those who have looked on so dreary a prospect--who have
+buckled on their armor for such a combat--judge of the grateful emotion
+with which he received the generous proposal of Mr. Cavendish. This
+proposal, while it gave him at once an opportunity for the exercise of
+his powers, secured to him for the first year one-fifth, for the two
+following years one-fourth, and after that, if neither partner chose to
+withdraw from the connection, one-half of the profits of a business, the
+receipts of which had for several years averaged over ten thousand
+dollars. Mr. Cavendish soon found that he had done well to trust to the
+gratitude of his young partner for inducing the most active exercise of
+his powers. Stimulated by the desire to prove himself not unworthy of
+such kindness, and to secure his generous friend from any loss, Herbert
+never overlooked aught that could advance the interests, nor grew weary
+of any task that could lighten the toil of Mr. Cavendish.
+
+"Herbert, you really make me ashamed of myself, you are so constantly
+busy that I seem idle in comparison," said Mr. Cavendish, as he prepared
+one day to lay by his papers and leave the office at three o'clock.
+"Pray put away those musty books, and bring Mrs. Latimer to dine with
+us--this is a fete day with us. My daughter, who has been for two months
+with her uncle and aunt in Washington, has returned, and I want to
+introduce her to Mrs. Latimer."
+
+"My mother will come to you with pleasure, I am sure."
+
+"And you?"
+
+"Will come too, if I possibly can. You dine at five?"
+
+"Yes--and remember punctuality is the soul of dinner as well as of
+business. So do not let the charms of Coke upon Lyttleton make you
+forget that fair ladies and hungry gentlemen are expecting you." Mr.
+Cavendish closed the door with a smiling face, and Herbert Latimer
+turned for another hour to his books and papers. At a quarter before
+five he stood with his mother in the drawing-room of Mr. Cavendish, and
+received his first introduction to one who soon became the star of his
+life.
+
+Mary Cavendish was not beautiful--far less could the word pretty have
+been applied to her--but she was lovely. All that we most love in woman,
+all pure and peaceful thoughts, all sweet and gentle affections, seemed
+to beam from her eyes, or to sit throned upon her fair and open brow.
+She had enjoyed all the advantages, as it is termed, of a fashionable
+education, but the influences of her home had been more powerful than
+those of her school, and she remained what nature had made her--a
+warm-hearted, truthful, generous, and gentle girl--too ingenuous for the
+pretty affectations, too generous for the heartless coquetries which too
+often teach us that the _accomplished_ young lady has sacrificed, for
+her external refinement, qualities of a nobler stamp and more delicate
+beauty. The only daughter among several children, she was an idol in her
+home, and every movement of her life seemed impelled by the desire to
+repay the wealth of affection that was lavished upon her. It was
+impossible to see such a being daily in the intimacy of her home
+associations--the sphere in which her gentle spirit shone most
+brightly--without loving her; and Herbert soon felt that he loved her,
+yet he added in his thoughts "in all honor," and to him it would have
+seemed little honorable to attempt to win this priceless treasure from
+him to whose generosity he had owed his place in her circle. Mrs.
+Latimer, though she did not fear for her son's honor, trembled for his
+future peace as she marked the sadness which often stole over him, after
+spending an hour in the society of this lovely girl; but Mrs. Latimer
+was a wise woman--she knew that speech is to such emotions often as the
+lighted match to a magazine, and she kept silence.
+
+For almost a year after his introduction, Herbert continued in daily
+intercourse with Mary Cavendish to drink fresh draughts of love, yet so
+carefully did he guard his manner, that no suspicion of his warmer
+emotions threw a shadow over her friendship, or checked the frankness
+with which she unveiled to him the rich treasures of her mind and heart.
+It was in the autumn succeeding their first acquaintance that Mr. and
+Mrs. Cavendish issued cards for a large party at their house. It would
+be too gay a scene for the quiet taste of Mrs. Latimer, but Herbert
+would be there, and at the request of Mrs. Cavendish he promised to come
+early. The promise was kept. He arrived half an hour at least before
+any other guest, bringing with him a bouquet of rare and beautiful
+flowers for Mary. As he entered the hall he heard a slight scream from
+the parlor beside whose open door he stood. The scream was in a voice to
+whose lightest tone his heart responded, and in an instant, he was
+beside Mary Cavendish, had clasped her in his arms, and pressing her
+closely to his person, was endeavoring to extinguish with his hands the
+flames that enveloped her. The evening was cold: there was a fire in the
+stove, before which Mary stood arranging some flowers on the
+mantel-piece, when the door was opened for him. The sudden rush of air
+had wafted her light, floating drapery of gauze and lace into the fire,
+and in a moment all was in a blaze. Fortunate was it for her, that under
+this light, flimsy drapery, was worn a dress of stouter texture and less
+combustible material--a rich satin. After the slight scream which had
+brought him to her side, Mary uttered no sound, and with his whole soul
+concentrated on action, he had been equally silent till the last spark
+was smothered. Then gazing wildly in her pallid face he exclaimed, "In
+mercy speak to me! Did I come too late? Are you burned?"
+
+"I scarcely know--I think not," she faltered out. Then, as she made an
+effort to withdraw from his arms, added quickly--"no--not at all."
+
+Completely overpowered by the revulsion of feeling which those words
+occasioned, Herbert clasped her again in his arms, and fervently
+ejaculating, "Thank God!" pressed his lips to her cheek. At that moment,
+the voice of Mr. Cavendish was heard in the next room, and breaking from
+him, Mary rushed to her astonished father, and burying her face in his
+bosom, burst into tears. Aroused to full consciousness by the presence
+of another, Herbert stood trembling and dismayed at the remembrance of
+his own rashness. Agitated as she was, Mary was compelled to answer her
+father's questions, for he seemed wholly unable to speak.
+
+"Latimer, I owe my child's life probably to you. How shall I repay the
+debt?" cried Mr. Cavendish, attempting, as he spoke, to clasp Herbert's
+hand. He winced at the touch, and a sudden contraction passed over his
+face.
+
+"You are burned," said Mr. Cavendish, and would have examined his hand,
+but throwing his handkerchief over it, Herbert declared it was not worth
+mentioning, though at the same time he confessed that the pain was
+sufficient to make him desirous to return home, and have some soothing
+application made to it. Mr. Cavendish parted from him with regret, with
+earnest charges that he should take care of himself, and equally earnest
+hopes that he might be sufficiently relieved to return to them before
+the evening was passed; but Mary still lay in her father's arms, with
+her face hidden, and noticed Herbert's departure neither by word nor
+look.
+
+"I have outraged her delicacy, and she cannot bear even to see me," he
+said to himself.
+
+In passing out he accidentally trod on the flowers which he had selected
+with such care--"Crushed like my own heart!" he ejaculated mentally.
+
+A fortnight passed before Herbert Latimer could take his accustomed
+place in the office of Mr. Cavendish. His hand had been deeply
+burned--so deeply that the pain had produced fever. During this period
+of suffering, Mr. Cavendish had often visited him, and Mrs. Cavendish
+had more than once taken his mother's place at his bedside; but Herbert
+found little pleasure in their attentions, for he said to himself, "If
+they knew all my presumption, they would be less kind."
+
+His illness passed away, his hand healed, and he resumed his accustomed
+avocations; but no invitation, however urgent, could win him again to
+the house of Mr. Cavendish. "I have proved my own weakness--I will not
+place myself again in the way of temptation," was the language of his
+heart. Apologies became awkward. He felt that he must seem to his friend
+ungracious if not ungrateful; and one day observing unusual seriousness
+in the countenance of Mr. Cavendish on his declining an invitation to
+dine with him, he exclaimed, "You look displeased, and I can hardly
+wonder at it; but could you know my reason for denying myself the
+pleasure of visiting you, I am sure you would think me right."
+
+"Perhaps so; but as I do not know it, you cannot be surprised that your
+determined withdrawal from our circle should wound both my feelings and
+those of my family."
+
+Herbert covered his eyes with his hand for a moment, and then turning
+them with a grave and even sad expression on Mr. Cavendish, said, "I
+have declined your invitations only because I could not accept them with
+honor: I love your daughter--I have loved her almost from the first hour
+of my acquaintance with her."
+
+"And why have you not told me so before, Herbert?" asked Mr. Cavendish,
+with no anger in his tones.
+
+"Because I believed myself capable of loving in silence, and while I
+wronged no one, I was willing to indulge in the sweet poison of her
+society; but a moment of danger to her destroyed my self-control. What
+has been may be again--I have learned to distrust myself--I cannot
+tamper with temptation, lest I should one day use the position in which
+you have placed me, and the advantages which you have bestowed on me, in
+endeavoring to win from you a treasure which you may well be reluctant
+to yield to me."
+
+"Herbert, I only blame you for not having spoken to me sooner of this."
+
+"I feel now that I should have done so--it was a want of
+self-knowledge, the rash confidence of one untried which kept me
+silent."
+
+"No, Herbert--it was a want of knowledge of me--of confidence in my
+justice--I will not say my kindness. What higher views do you suppose I
+can entertain for my daughter, than to make her the wife of one who has
+a prospect of obtaining the most distinguished eminence in my own
+profession."
+
+"If that prospect be mine, to you I owe it--could I make it a plea for
+asking more?"
+
+"You owe what I did for you to the interest and esteem excited by your
+own qualities, and all I did has only given you a place for the exercise
+of those qualities--I do not know how you will win Mary's forgiveness
+for refraining from her society on such slight grounds."
+
+"Dare I hope for your permission to seek that forgiveness?"
+
+"Dare I hope for your company to dinner to-day?"
+
+"Now that you know all, nothing could give so much pleasure--though I
+fear----"
+
+"What, fearing again!"
+
+"I fear that Miss Cavendish is very much displeased with me."
+
+"For saving her life?"
+
+"No--not exactly that."
+
+Herbert Latimer did not confide the cause of his fear to Mr. Cavendish,
+neither did he suffer it to interfere with his visit on that day. He
+went to dinner, but stayed to tea, and long after, and as Mary was his
+companion for much, if not all of this time, we presume that her
+displeasure could not have been manifested in any very serious manner.
+
+It was about six weeks after this renewal of his visits that Mr.
+Duffield meeting his friend Mr. Cavendish one morning, accosted him
+with, "I hear that your daughter is going to be married to young
+Latimer--is it true?"
+
+"Yes, and I heartily wish the affair were over, for I hope Herbert will
+recover his senses when he is actually married, as now I am obliged to
+attend to his business and my own too."
+
+"Not much profit in that, I should think--I manage somewhat
+differently."
+
+"Did you not tell me that you intended forming a partnership with young
+Conway?"
+
+"Yes--but before I had done so, I heard that Sprague, who is as well
+connected as Conway, and a great deal more industrious, would go into
+business with me on less exacting terms. He has been associated with me
+for some time. He does all the drudgery of the business, and is content
+with one-eighth of the profits for five years."
+
+"Those are low terms--with talent and connection too, I should think he
+could have done better."
+
+"Why, you see his connections were of little use to him while he was
+alone, for he was so desperately poor that they did not like to
+acknowledge him, but I knew as soon as he began to rise they would all
+notice him, and so it has proved. I have no doubt I shall gain through
+them more than the thousand dollars a-year which Sprague will draw,
+while I shall be saved every thing that is really disagreeable or
+laborious in my practice; and you give two thousand dollars a-year, and
+are to have your daughter married to a gentleman who leaves all the
+business on your hands--which of us, do you think, has attended most
+successfully to the main chance?"
+
+"According to my views of the main chance, it is not to be determined by
+such data--but even in your own view we may have a very different
+account to render nine years hence?"
+
+"Ah, well! Ten years from the day that Latimer passed we will compare
+notes."
+
+Ten years are long in prospective, but it seemed to both parties only a
+short time when the appointed anniversary came. On that day Mr.
+Cavendish invited several of his brother lawyers, and amongst them Mr.
+Duffield, to dinner. Herbert Latimer, his wife and mother, his two noble
+boys, and though last, not least in importance, if in size, his little
+girl, her grandfather's especial pet, were of the party. It was a well
+assorted party. The guests found good cheer and social converse--the
+cherished friends of the house, food for deeper and higher enjoyment
+When the ladies had withdrawn, calling Herbert Latimer to the head of
+the table, Mr. Cavendish seated himself beside Mr. Duffield.
+
+"Well, Duffield!" he exclaimed, "do you know that it is ten years to-day
+since Herbert Latimer stood before us for examination?"
+
+"Ah!" ejaculated Mr. Duffield, in the tone of one who did not care to
+pursue the subject further.
+
+"You remember our agreement--are you still willing to make our success
+in that time a test of the truth of our respective principles?"
+
+"It may afford a more conclusive proof of your better judgment in the
+selection of an associate."
+
+"Sprague stands very high in his profession."
+
+"Yes--I knew he would, for he has talent and connection--therefore I
+chose him; but he left me just at the time these were beginning to be
+available, as soon as the five years for which our agreement was made,
+had expired."
+
+"What occasioned his leaving you?"
+
+"Why, Duval offered him better terms than I had done--I should not have
+cared so much for his going, but he carried off many of my clients, with
+whom he had ingratiated himself during his connection with me. My
+practice has scarcely recovered yet from the injury which he did it."
+
+
+"He seems to have acted on your own principle, and to have considered
+the main chance to mean the most money."
+
+"And do you suppose Latimer would have remained with you if he could
+have made better terms for himself?"
+
+"I know that during my long illness he was offered double what he was
+receiving, or could then hope ever to receive from my practice, and his
+reply to the offer was that the bonds forged by gratitude and affection,
+no interest could break. He has now built up the business again to far
+more than it was when he joined me--I know that I owe most of it to him,
+yet he will not listen to any advice to dissolve our partnership.
+Gentlemen," he said, "I have a sentiment to propose to you, which you
+may drink in wine or water as you like best. 'THE MAIN CHANCE--always
+best secured by obedience to the golden rule--as ye would that others
+should do unto you, do ye even so to them.'"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+
+The morning after Mr. Arlington had commenced our Christmas
+entertainments with the sketch of his friend Herbert Latimer's life, was
+dark and gloomy. At least, such was its aspect abroad, where leaden
+clouds covered the sky, and a cold, sleety rain fell fast; but within,
+all was bright, and warm, and cheerful. Immediately after breakfast we
+separated, each in search of amusement suited to his or her own tastes:
+some to the music room, some to the library, and Robert Dudley and Annie
+Donaldson to a game of battledore and shuttlecock in the wide hall, with
+Mr. Arlington for a spectator. As the storm increased, however, all
+seemed to feel the want of companionship, and without any preconcerted
+plan, we found ourselves, about two hours after breakfast, again
+assembled in the room in which quiet, patient Mrs. Donaldson sat,
+ravelling the netting of the last evening.
+
+"Now for Aunt Nancy's portfolio," cried Annie, as soon as conversation
+began to flag.
+
+The proposal was seconded so warmly that, as I could urge nothing
+against it, the portfolio was immediately produced, and Annie, taking
+possession of it, commissioned Robert Dudley to draw forth an
+engraving:--"Scene, a chamber by night, a sleeping baby and a sleepy
+mother, a basket of needle-work--I am sure it is needle-work--on the
+floor, and a cross suspended from the wall," said Annie, describing the
+engraving which she had taken from Robert.
+
+"That cross looks promising," said Colonel Donaldson, who likes a little
+romance as well as any of his daughters. "Let us have the fair lady's
+history, Aunt Nancy."
+
+"I know nothing about her," said I, with a smile at his eagerness.
+
+"Then why, dear Aunt Nancy, did you keep the engraving?" asked Annie.
+
+"I might answer, because of my interest in the scene it depicts--a scene
+in which religion seems to shed its sanctifying influence over the
+tenderest affection and the homeliest duties of our common life; but I
+had another reason."
+
+"Ah! I knew it," exclaimed Annie.
+
+"I first saw this print in company with a very cultivated and
+interesting German lady, to whose memory the sleeping baby recalled a
+cradle song written by her countryman, the brave Koerner. She sang it for
+me, and as the German is, I am grieved to say, a sealed book to me, she
+gave me a literal translation of the words, which--"
+
+"Which you have put into English verse, and written here at the back of
+the engraving in the finest of all fine writing, and which papa will put
+on his spectacles and read for us."
+
+"No; I commission Mr. Arlington to do that," said the Colonel, "without
+his spectacles."
+
+"First," said I, "let me assure you that the original is full of a
+simple, natural tenderness, which I fear, in the double process of
+translating and versifying, has entirely escaped."
+
+Mr. Arlington, taking the paper from Annie, now read,--
+
+
+THE CRADLE SONG;
+
+A FREE TRANSLATION FROM KOeRNER.
+
+    I.
+
+    Slumberer! to thy mother's breast,
+    So fondly folded, sweetly rest!
+    Within that fair and quiet world,
+    With downy pinions scarce unfurl'd,
+    Life gently passes, nor doth bring
+    One dream of sorrow on its wing.
+
+
+    II.
+
+    Pleasant our dreams in early hours,
+    When Mother-love our life embowers;--
+    Ah! Mother-love! thy tender light
+    Hath vanished from my sky of night,
+    Scarce leaving there one fading ray
+    To thrill me with, remember'd day.
+
+
+    III.
+
+    Thrice, by the smiles of fav'ring Heaven,
+    To man this holiest joy is given;
+    Thrice, circled by the arms of love,
+    With glowing spirit he may prove
+    The highest rapture heart can feel,
+    The noblest hopes our lives reveal.
+
+
+    IV.
+
+    The earliest blessings that enwreathed
+    His infant days, 'twas Love that breathed.
+    In Love's warm smile the nursling blooms,
+    Nor fears one shade that o'er him glooms,
+    While flowers unfold and waters dance
+    In joy, beneath his first, fresh glance.
+
+
+    V.
+
+    And when around the youth's bold course
+    Clouds gather--tempests spend their force--
+    When his soul darkens with his sky,
+    Again the Love-God hovers nigh;
+    And on some gentle maiden's breast
+    Lulls him, once more, to blissful rest.
+
+
+    VI.
+
+    But when his heart bends to the power
+    Of storm, as bends the summer flower,
+    'Tis Love that, as the Angel-Death
+    Wooes from his lips the ling'ring breath,
+    And gently bears his soul above,
+    To the bright skies--the home of Love.
+
+"Poor Koerner!" said Mr. Arlington, as he concluded reading this song--if
+indeed it may claim that name in its English dress--"I can sympathize,
+as few can do, with his mournful memory of mother-love."
+
+This was said in a tone of such genuine emotion, that I looked at him
+with even more pleasure than I had hitherto done.
+
+"Such tenderness touches us particularly when found, as in Koerner, in
+union with manly and vigorous qualities--perhaps, because it is a rare
+combination," said Mrs. Dudley.
+
+"Is it rare?" I asked doubtfully. "The results of my own observation
+have led me to believe that it is precisely in manly, vigorous,
+independent minds that we see the fullest development of our simple,
+natural, home-affections."
+
+"You are right, Aunt Nancy," said Col. Donaldson; "it is only boys
+striving to seem manly and men of boyish minds, who fail to acknowledge
+with reverence and tenderness the value of a mother's love."
+
+"So convinced am I of this," I replied, "that I would ask for no more
+certain indication of a man's nobility of nature, than his manner to his
+mother. I remember a striking illustration of the fidelity of such an
+indication in two brothers of the name of Manning, with whom I was once
+acquainted. The one was quite a _petit-maitre_--a dandy; the other, a
+fine creature--large-minded and large-hearted. The first betrayed in
+every look and movement, that he considered himself greatly his
+mother's superior, and feared every moment that she should detract from
+his dignity by some sin against the dicta of fashion; the other did
+honor at once to her and to himself, by his reverent devotion to her.
+They were a contrast, and a contrast which circumstances brought out
+most strikingly. Ah, Mr. Arlington! I wish you could have seen them--a
+sketch of them from your pencil would have been a picture indeed."
+
+"We will take your word-painting instead," said Mr. Arlington.
+
+"A mere description in words could not present them to you in all their
+strongly marked diversity of character. To do this, I must give you a
+history of their lives."
+
+"And why not?"--and--"Oh, yes, Aunt Nancy, that is just what we want,"
+was echoed from one to another. They consented to delay their
+gratification till the evening, that I might have a little time to
+arrange my reminiscences; and when "the hours of long uninterrupted
+evening" came, and we had
+
+    "----stirr'd the fire and closed the shutters fast,
+    Let fall the curtains, wheeled the sofa round,"
+
+and disposed ourselves in comfort for talking and for listening, I gave
+them the relation which you will find below under the title of
+
+
+THE BROTHERS;
+
+OR, IN THE FASHION AND ABOVE THE FASHION.
+
+"Some men are born to greatness--some achieve greatness--and some have
+greatness thrust upon them." Henry Manning belonged to the second of
+these three great classes. The son of a mercantile adventurer, who won
+and lost a fortune by speculation, he found himself at sixteen years of
+age called on to choose between the life of a Western farmer, with its
+vigorous action, stirring incident and rough usage--and the life of a
+clerk in one of the most noted establishments in Broadway, the great
+source and centre of fashion in New-York. Mr. Morgan, the brother of
+Mrs. Manning, who had been recalled from the distant West by the death
+of her husband, and the embarrassments into which that event had plunged
+her, had obtained the offer of the latter situation for one of his two
+nephews, and would take the other with him to his prairie-home.
+
+"I do not ask you to go with me, Matilda," he said to his sister,
+"because our life is yet too wild and rough to suit a delicate woman,
+reared, as you have been, in the midst of luxurious refinements. The
+difficulties and privations of life in the West fall most heavily upon
+woman, while she has little of that sustaining power which man's more
+adventurous spirit finds in overcoming difficulty and coping with
+danger. But let me have one of your boys; and by the time he has arrived
+at manhood, he will be able, I doubt not, to offer you in his home all
+the comforts, if not all the elegances of your present abode."
+
+Mrs. Manning consented; and now the question was, which of her sons
+should remain with her, and which should accompany Mr. Morgan. To Henry
+Manning, older by two years than his brother George, the choice of
+situations was submitted. He went with his uncle to the Broadway
+establishment, heard the duties which would be demanded from him, the
+salary which would be given, saw the grace with which the _elegants_
+behind the counter displayed their silks, and satins, and velvets, to
+the _elegantes_ before the counter, and the decision with which they
+promulgated the decrees of fashion; and with that just sense of his own
+powers, which is the accompaniment of true genius, he decided at once
+that there lay his vocation. George, who had not been without difficulty
+kept quiet, while his brother was forming his decision, as soon as it
+was announced, sprang forward with a whoop that would have suited a
+Western forest better than a New-York drawing-room, threw the Horace he
+was reading across the table, clasped first his mother and then his
+uncle in his arms, and exclaimed, "I am the boy for the West. I will
+help you fell forests and build cities there, uncle. Why should not we
+build cities as well as Romulus and Remus?"
+
+"I will supply your cities with all their silks, and satins, and
+velvets, and laces, and charge them nothing, George," said Henry
+Manning, with that air of superiority with which the worldly-wise often
+look on the sallies of the enthusiast.
+
+"You make my head ache, my son," complained Mrs. Manning, shrinking from
+his boisterous gratulation;--but Mr. Morgan returned his hearty embrace,
+and as he gazed into his bold, bright face, with an eye as bright as his
+own, replied to his burst of enthusiasm, "You _are_ the very boy for the
+West, George. It is out of such brave stuff that pioneers and
+city-builders are always made."
+
+Henry Manning soon bowed himself into the favor of the ladies who formed
+the principal customers of his employer. By his careful and really
+correct habits, and his elegant taste in the selection and arrangement
+of goods, he became also a favorite with his employers themselves. They
+needed an agent for the selection of goods abroad, and they sent him. He
+purchased cloths for them in England, and silks in France, and came home
+with the reputation of a travelled man. Having persuaded his mother to
+advance a capital for him by selling out the bank stock in which Mr.
+Morgan had founded her little fortune, at twenty-four years of age he
+commenced business for himself as a French importer. Leaving a partner
+to attend to the sales at home, he went abroad for the selection of
+goods, and the further enhancement of his social reputation. He returned
+in two years with a fashionable figure, a most _recherche_ style of
+dress, moustachios of the most approved cut, and whiskers of faultless
+curl--a finished gentleman in his own conceit. With such attractions,
+the _prestige_ which he derived from his reported travels and long
+residence abroad, and the _savoir faire_ of one who had made the
+conventional arrangements of society his study, he quickly arose to the
+summit of his wishes, to the point which it had been his life's ambition
+to attain. He became the umpire of taste, and his word was received as
+the fiat of fashion. He continued to reside with his mother, and paid
+great attention to her style of dress, and the arrangements of her
+house, for it was important that his mother should appear properly. Poor
+Mrs. Manning! she sometimes thought that proud title dearly purchased by
+listening to his daily criticisms on appearance, language, manners,
+which had been esteemed stylish enough in their day.
+
+George Manning had visited his mother only once since he left her with
+all the bright imaginings and boundless confidence of fourteen, and then
+Henry was in Europe. It was during the first winter after his return,
+and when the brothers had been separated for nearly twelve years, that
+Mrs. Manning informed him she had received a letter from George,
+announcing his intention to be in New-York in December, and to remain
+with them through most if not all of the winter. Henry Manning was
+evidently annoyed at the announcement.
+
+"I wish," he said, "that George had chosen to make his visit in the
+summer, when most of the people to whom I should hesitate to introduce
+him would have been absent. I should be sorry to hurt his feelings, but
+really, to introduce a Western farmer into polished society--" Henry
+Manning shuddered, and was silent. "And then to choose this winter of
+all winters for his visit, and to come in December, just at the very
+time that I heard yesterday Miss Harcourt was coming from Washington to
+spend a few weeks with her friend, Mrs. Duffield!"
+
+"And what has Miss Harcourt's visit to Mrs. Duffield to do with George's
+visit to us?" asked Mrs. Manning.
+
+"A great deal--at least it has a great deal to do with my regret that he
+should come just now. I told you how I became acquainted with Emma
+Harcourt in Europe, and what a splendid creature she is. Even in Paris,
+she bore the palm for wit and beauty--and fashion too--that is in
+English and American society. But I did not tell you that she received
+me with such distinguished favor, and evinced so much pretty
+consciousness at my attentions, that had not her father, having been
+chosen one of the electors of President and Vice-President, hurried from
+Paris in order to be in this country in time for his vote, I should
+probably have been induced to marry her. Her father is in Congress this
+year, and you see, she no sooner learns that I am here, than she comes
+to spend part of the winter with a friend in New-York."
+
+Henry arose at this, walked to a glass, surveyed his elegant figure, and
+continuing to cast occasional glances at it as he walked backwards and
+forwards through the room, resumed the conversation, or rather his own
+communication.
+
+"All this is very encouraging, doubtless; but Emma Harcourt is so
+perfectly elegant, so thoroughly refined, that I dread the effect upon
+her of any _outre_ association--by the by, mother, if I obtain her
+permission to introduce you to her, you will not wear that brown hat in
+visiting her--a brown hat is my aversion--it is positively vulgar--but
+to return to George--how can I introduce him, with his rough,
+boisterous, Western manner, to this courtly lady?--the very thought
+chills me"--and Henry Manning shivered--"and yet, how can I avoid it, if
+we should be engaged?"
+
+With December came the beautiful Emma Harcourt, and Mrs. Duffield's
+house was thronged with her admirers. Hers was the form and movement of
+the Huntress Queen rather than of one trained in the halls of fashion.
+There was a joyous freedom in her air, her step, her glance, which, had
+she been less beautiful, less talented, less fortunate in social
+position or in wealth, would have placed her under the ban of fashion;
+but, as it was, she commanded fashion, and even Henry Manning, the very
+slave of conventionalism, had no criticism for her. He had been among
+the first to call on her, and the blush that flitted across her cheek,
+the smile that played upon her lips, as he was announced, might well
+have flattered one even of less vanity.
+
+The very next day, before Henry had had time to improve these symptoms
+in her favor, on returning home, at five o'clock, to his dinner, he
+found a stranger in the parlor with his mother. The gentleman arose on
+his entrance, and he had scarcely time to glance at the tall, manly
+form, the lofty air, the commanding brow, ere he found himself clasped
+in his arms, with the exclamation, "Dear Henry! how rejoiced I am to see
+you again."
+
+In George Manning the physical and intellectual man had been developed
+in rare harmony. He was taller and larger every way than his brother
+Henry, and the self-reliance which the latter had laboriously attained
+from the mastery of all conventional rules, was his by virtue of a
+courageous soul, which held itself above all rules but those prescribed
+by its own high sense of the right. There was a singular contrast,
+rendered yet more striking by some points of resemblance, between the
+pupil of society, and the child of the forest--between the Parisian
+elegance of Henry, and the proud, free grace of George. His were the
+step and bearing which we have seen in an Indian chief; but thought had
+left its impress on his brow, and there was in his countenance that
+indescribable air of refinement which marks a polished mind. In a very
+few minutes Henry became reconciled to his brother's arrival, and
+satisfied with him in all respects but one--his dress. This was of the
+finest cloth, but made into large, loose trowsers, and a species of
+hunting-shirt, trimmed with fur, belted around the waist, and
+descending to the knee, instead of the tight pantaloons and closely
+fitting body coat prescribed by fashion. The little party lingered long
+over the table--it was seven o'clock before they arose from it.
+
+"Dear mother," said George Manning, "I am sorry to leave you this
+evening, but I will make you rich amends to-morrow by introducing to you
+the friend I am going to visit, if you will permit me. Henry, it is so
+long since I was in New-York that I need some direction in finding my
+way--must I turn up or down Broadway for Number--, in going from this
+street?"
+
+"Number--," exclaimed Henry in surprise; "you must be mistaken--that is
+Mrs. Duffield's."
+
+"Then I am quite right, for it is at Mrs. Duffield's that I expect to
+meet my friend this evening."
+
+With some curiosity to know what friend of George could have so
+completely the _entree_ of the fashionable Mrs. Duffield's house as to
+make an appointment there, Henry proposed to go with him and show him
+the way. There was a momentary hesitation in George's manner before he
+replied, "Very well, I shall be obliged to you."
+
+"But--excuse me George--you are not surely going in that dress--this is
+one of Mrs. Duffield's reception evenings, and, early as it is, you will
+find company there."
+
+George laughed as he replied; "They must take me as I am, Henry. We do
+not receive our fashions from Paris at the West."
+
+Henry almost repented his offer to accompany his brother; but it was too
+late to withdraw, for George, unconscious of this feeling, had taken his
+cloak and cap, and was awaiting his escort. As they approached Mrs.
+Duffield's house, George, who had hitherto led the conversation, became
+silent, or answered his brother only in monosyllables, and then not
+always to the purpose. As they entered the hall, the hats and cloaks
+displayed there showed that, as Henry supposed, they were not the
+earliest visitors. George paused for a moment and said, "You must go in
+without me, Henry. Show me to a room where there is no company," he
+continued, turning to a servant--"and take this card in to Mrs.
+Duffield--be sure to give it to Mrs. Duffield herself."
+
+The servant bowed low to the commanding stranger; and Henry, almost
+mechanically, obeyed his direction, muttering to himself, "Free and
+easy, upon my honor." He had scarcely entered the usual reception-room
+and made his bow to Mrs. Duffield, when the servant presented his
+brother's card. He watched her closely, and saw a smile playing over her
+lips as her eyes rested on it. She glanced anxiously at Miss Harcourt,
+and crossing the room to a group in which she stood, she drew her aside.
+After a few whispered words, Mrs. Duffield placed the card in Miss
+Harcourt's hand. A sudden flash of joy irradiated every feature of her
+beautiful face, and Henry Manning saw that, but for Mrs. Duffield's
+restraining hand, she would have rushed from the room. Recalled thus to
+a recollection of others, she looked around her, and her eyes met his.
+In an instant, her face was covered with blushes, and she drew back with
+embarrassed consciousness--almost immediately, however, she raised her
+head with a proud, bright expression, and though she did not look at
+Henry Manning, he felt that she was conscious of his observation, as she
+passed with a composed yet joyous step from the room.
+
+Henry Manning was awaking from a dream. It was not a very pleasant
+awakening, but as his vanity rather than his heart was touched, he was
+able to conceal his chagrin, and appear as interesting and agreeable as
+usual. He now expected with some impatience the _denouement_ of the
+comedy. An hour passed away, and Mrs. Duffield's eye began to consult
+the marble clock on her mantel-piece. The chime for another half-hour
+rang out; and she left the room and returned in a few minutes, leaning
+on the arm of George Manning.
+
+"Who is that?--What noble-looking man is that?" were questions Henry
+Manning heard from many--from a very few only the exclamation, "How
+oddly he is dressed!" Before the evening was over Henry began to feel
+that he was eclipsed on his own theatre--that George, if not _in the
+fashion_, was yet more _the fashion_ than he.
+
+Following the proud, happy glance of his brother's eye, a quarter of an
+hour later, Henry saw Miss Harcourt entering the room in an opposite
+direction from that in which she had lately come. If this was a _ruse_ on
+her part to veil the connection between their movements, it was a
+fruitless caution. None who had seen her before could fail now to
+observe the softened character of her beauty, and those who saw
+
+    "A thousand blushing apparitions start
+    Into her face"--
+
+whenever his eyes rested on her, could scarcely doubt his influence over
+her.
+
+The next morning George Manning brought Miss Harcourt to visit his
+mother; and Mrs. Manning rose greatly in her son Henry's estimation,
+when he saw the affectionate deference evinced towards her by the proud
+beauty.
+
+"How strange my manner must have seemed to you sometimes!" said Miss
+Harcourt to Henry one day. "I was engaged to George long before I met
+you in Europe; and though I never had courage to mention him to you, I
+wondered a little that you never spoke of him. I never doubted for a
+moment that you were acquainted with our engagement."
+
+"I do not even yet understand where and how you and George met."
+
+"We met at home--my father was Governor of the Territory--State now--in
+which your uncle lives: our homes were very near each other's, and so we
+met almost daily while I was still a child. We have had all sorts of
+adventures together; for George was a great favorite with my father, and
+I was permitted to go with him anywhere. He has saved my life
+twice--once at the imminent peril of his own, when with the wilfulness
+of a spoiled child I would ride a horse which he told me I could not
+manage. Oh! you know not half his nobleness," and tears moistened the
+bright eyes of the happy girl.
+
+Henry Manning was touched through all his conventionalism, yet the
+moment after he said, "George is a fine fellow, certainly; but I wish
+you could persuade him to dress a little more like other people."
+
+"I would not if I could," exclaimed Emma Harcourt, while the blood
+rushed to her temples; "fashions and all such conventional regulations
+are made for those who have no innate perception of the right, the
+noble, the beautiful--not for such as he--he is above fashion."
+
+What Emma would not ask, she yet did not fail to recognize as another
+proof of correct judgment, when George Manning laid aside his Western
+costume and assumed one less remarkable.
+
+Henry Manning had received a new idea--that there are those who are
+above the fashion. Allied to this was another thought, which in time
+found entrance to his mind, that it would be at least as profitable to
+devote our energies to the acquisition of true nobility of soul, pure
+and high thought and refined taste, as to the study of those
+conventionalisms which are but their outer garment, and can at best only
+conceal for a short time their absence.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+
+The next day was brilliant. Snow had fallen during the night, and the
+sun, which arose without a cloud, was reflected back from it with
+dazzling brightness, while every branch and spray glittered in its
+casing of ice as though it had been a huge diamond. Before we met at
+breakfast, the younger members of the party had decided on a
+sleigh-ride. Even Col. Donaldson _malgre_ old age and rheumatism, found
+himself unable to resist the cheerful morning and their gay
+solicitations, and accompanied them. Mrs. Donaldson and I were left
+alone, a circumstance which did not afflict either of us. Mrs. Donaldson
+was never at a loss for pleasant occupation for her hours, and Annie had
+given me something to do in parting.
+
+"Remember, Aunt Nancy, we shall look to you for our entertainment this
+evening; you shall be permitted to choose your subject. Is not that
+gracious?" she added, with a laugh at her own style of command,
+springing at the same moment from the sleigh in which Mr. Arlington had
+already placed himself at her side, and running up the steps to the
+piazza, where I stood, that she might give me another kiss, and satisfy
+herself that she had not wounded the _amour propre_ of her old friend,
+by speaking so much _en reine_. I was, in truth, pleased to be reminded
+of the demand which might be made on me in the evening, while I had time
+to glance over sketches intended only for myself, and ascertain whether
+they contained any thing likely to interest others.
+
+A late dinner re-united us, and the fatigues of the morning having been
+repaired by an hour's rest in the afternoon, our party was more than
+usually fresh and ready for enjoyment when we met in the evening. I had
+availed myself of Annie's permission, and selected my subject. It was a
+crayon sketch of a lovely lake, taken by Philip Oswald, the son of one
+of my most valued friends. The sketch was made while all around remained
+in the wilderness of uncultivated nature. Since that day, the stillness
+has been disturbed by the sound of the axe and the hammer. Upon the
+borders of that sweet lake, a fair home has risen, from which the
+incense of grateful and loving hearts has gone up to the Creator of so
+much beauty. The associations which made this scene peculiarly
+interesting to me I had long since written out, and now give to the
+reader under the title of
+
+
+LOSS AND GAIN;
+
+OR, HEARTS VERSUS DIAMONDS.
+
+Winter had thrown its icy fetters over the Hudson, and stilled even the
+stormier waves of the East River, as the inhabitants of New-York
+designate that portion of the Harbor which lies between their city and
+Brooklyn. The city itself--its streets--its houses--all wore the livery
+of this "ruler of the inverted year"--while in many a garret and cellar
+of its crowded streets, ragged children huddled together, seeking to
+warm their frozen limbs beneath the scanty covering of their beds, or
+cowering over the few half-dying embers, which they misnamed a fire. Yet
+the social affections were not chilled--rather did they seem to glow
+more warmly, as though rejoicing in their triumph over the mighty
+conqueror of the physical world. Christian charity went forth unchecked
+through the frosty air and over the snow-clad streets, to shelter the
+houseless, to clothe the naked, to warm the freezing. Human sympathies
+awoke to new-life, the dying hopes and failing energies of man; and the
+sleigh-bells, ringing out their joyous peals through the day, and far,
+far into the night, told that the young and fair were abroad braving all
+the severities of the season, in their eager search after pleasure. In
+the neighborhood of Waverley Place, especially, on the evening of the
+16th of December, did this merry music "wake the silent air" to respond
+to the quick beatings of the gay young hearts anticipating the fete of
+fetes, the most brilliant party of the season, which was that evening to
+be given at the house of the ruler of fashion--the elegant Mrs. Bruton.
+
+Instead of introducing our readers to the gay assemblage of this lady's
+guests, we will take them to the dressing-room of the fairest among
+them, the beautiful, the gay, the brilliant Caroline Danby. As the door
+of this inner temple of beauty opens at the touch of our magic wand, its
+inmate is seen standing before a mirror, and her eye beams, and her lip
+is smiling with anticipated triumph. Does there seem vanity in the gaze
+she fastens there? Look on that form of graceful symmetry, on those
+large black eyes with their jetty fringes, on the rich coloring of her
+rounded cheeks, and the dewy freshness of her red lip, and you will
+forget to censure. But see, the mirror reflects another form--a form so
+slender that it seems scarcely to have attained the full proportions of
+womanhood, and a face whose soft gray eyes and fair complexion, and hair
+of the palest gold, present a singular contrast to the dark yet glowing
+beauty beside her. This is Mary Grayson, the orphan cousin of Caroline
+Danby, who has grown up in her father's house. She has glided in with
+her usual gentle movement, and light, noiseless step, and Caroline first
+perceives her in the glass.
+
+"Ah, Mary!" she exclaims, "I sent for you to put this diamond spray in
+my hair; you arrange it with so much more taste than any one else."
+
+Mary smilingly receives the expensive ornament, and fastens it amidst
+the dark, glossy tresses. At this moment the doorbell gives forth a
+hasty peal, and going to the head of the stairs, Mary remains listening
+till the door is opened, and then comes back to say, "Mrs. Oswald,
+Caroline, and Philip."
+
+"Pray, go down and entertain them till I come, Mary"--and seemingly
+nothing loth, Mary complies with the request.
+
+In the drawing-room to which Mary Grayson directed her steps stood a
+stately looking lady, who advanced to meet her as she entered, and
+kissing her affectionately, asked, "Are you not going with us this
+evening?"
+
+"No; my sore throat has increased, and the Doctor is positive; there is
+no appeal from him, you know; I am very sorry, for I wished to see some
+of Philip's foreign graces," she said playfully, as she turned to give
+her hand to a gentleman who had entered while she was speaking. He
+received it with the frank kindness of a brother, but before he could
+reply the door of the drawing-room opened, and Caroline Danby appeared
+within it. Philip Oswald sprang forward to greet her, and from that
+moment seemed forgetful that there was any other thing in life deserving
+his attention, save her radiant beauty. Perhaps there was some little
+regard to the effect of his first glance at that beauty, in her
+presenting herself in the drawing-room with her cloak and hood upon her
+arm, the diamond sparkling in her uncovered tresses, and the soft, rich
+folds of her satin dress and its flowing lace draperies, shading without
+concealing the graceful outline of her form. The gentleman who gazed so
+admiringly upon her, who wrapped her cloak around her with such tender
+care, and even insisted, kneeling gracefully before her, on fastening
+himself the warm, furred overshoes upon her slender foot, seemed a fit
+attendant at the shrine of beauty. Philip Oswald had been only a few
+weeks at home, after an absence of four years spent in European travel.
+The quality in his appearance and manners, which first impressed the
+observer, was refinement--perfect elegance, without the least touch of
+coxcombry. It had been said of him, that he had brought home the taste
+in dress of a Parisian, the imaginativeness of a German, and the voice
+and passion for music of an Italian. Few were admitted to such intimacy
+with him as to look into the deeper qualities of the mind--but those who
+were, saw there the sturdy honesty of John Bull, and the courageous
+heart and independent spirit of his own America. Some of those who knew
+him best, regretted that the possession of a fortune, which placed him
+among the wealthiest in America, would most probably consign him to a
+life of indolence, in which his highest qualities would languish for
+want of exercise.
+
+By nine o'clock Caroline Danby's preparations were completed, and
+leaning on one of Philip Oswald's arms, while the other was given to his
+mother, she was led out, and placed in the most splendid sleigh in New
+York, and wrapped in the most costly furs. Philip followed, the weary
+coachman touched his spirited horses with the whip, the sleigh-bells
+rang merrily out, and Mary Grayson was left in solitude.
+
+The last stroke of three had ceased to vibrate on the air when Caroline
+Danby again stood beside her cousin. Mary was sleeping, and a painter
+might have hesitated whether to give the palm of beauty to the soft,
+fair face, which looked so angel-like in its placid sleep, or to that
+which bent above her in undimmed brilliancy.
+
+"Is it you, Caroline? What time is it?" asked Mary, as she aroused at
+her cousin's call.
+
+"Three o'clock; but wake up, Mary; I have something to tell you, which
+must not be heard by sleepy ears."
+
+"How fresh you look!" exclaimed Mary, sitting up in bed and looking at
+her cousin admiringly. "Who would believe you had been dancing all
+night!"
+
+"I have not been dancing all night, nor half the night."
+
+"Why--what have you been doing then?"
+
+"Listening to Philip Oswald. Oh Mary! I am certainly the most fortunate
+woman in the world. He is mine at last--he, the most elegant, the most
+brilliant man in New-York, and with such a splendid fortune. I was so
+happy, so excited, that I could not sleep, and therefore I awoke you to
+talk."
+
+"I am glad you did, for I am almost as much pleased as you can be--such
+joy is better than sleep;--but all the bells in the city seem to be
+ringing--did you see any thing of the fire?"
+
+"Oh yes! the whole sky at the southeast is glowing from the flames--the
+largest fire, they say, that has ever been known in the city--but it is
+far enough from us--down in Wall-street--and who can think of fires with
+such joy before them? Only think, Mary, with Philip's fortune and
+Philip's taste, what an establishment I shall have."
+
+"And what a mother in dear, good Mrs. Oswald!"
+
+"Yes--but I hope she will not wish to live with us--mother-in-laws, you
+know, always want to manage every thing in their sons' houses."
+
+Thus the cousins sat talking till the fire-bells ceased their monotonous
+and ominous clang, and the late dawn of a winter morning reddened the
+eastern sky. It was half-past nine o'clock when they met again at their
+breakfast; yet late as it was, Mr. Danby, usually a very early riser,
+was not quite ready for it. He had spent most of the night at the scene
+of the fire, and had with great difficulty and labor saved his valuable
+stock of French goods from the destroyer. When he joined his daughter
+and niece, his mind was still under the influence of last night's
+excitement, and he could talk of nothing but the fire.
+
+"Rather expensive fireworks, I am afraid," said Caroline flippantly, as
+her father described the lurid grandeur of the scene.
+
+"Do not speak lightly, my daughter, of that which must reduce many from
+affluence to beggary. Millions of property were lost last night. The
+16th of December, 1835, will long be remembered in the annals of
+New-York, I fear."
+
+"It will long be remembered in my annals," whispered Caroline to her
+cousin, with a bright smile, despite her father's chiding.
+
+"Not at home to any but Mr. Philip Oswald," had been Caroline Danby's
+order to the servant this morning; and thus when she was told, at twelve
+o'clock, that that gentleman awaited her in the drawing-room, she had
+heard nothing more of the fire than her father and the morning paper had
+communicated. As she entered, Philip arose to greet her, but though he
+strove to smile as his eyes met hers, the effort was vain; and throwing
+himself back on the sofa, he covered his face with his hand, as though
+to hide his pallor and the convulsive quivering of his lips from her
+whom he was reluctant to grieve. Emboldened by her fears, Caroline
+advanced, and laying her hand on his, exclaimed, "What is the
+matter?--Are you ill?--your mother?--pray do not keep me in suspense,
+but tell me what has happened."
+
+He seemed to have mastered his emotion, from whatever cause it had
+proceeded; for removing his hand, he looked earnestly upon her, and
+drawing her to a seat beside him, said in firm, though sad tones, "That
+has happened, Caroline, which would not move me thus, but for your dear
+sake--I asked you last night to share my fortune--to-day I have none to
+offer you."
+
+"Gracious heaven!" exclaimed Caroline, turning as pale as he, "what do
+you mean?"
+
+"That in the fire last night, or the failures which the most sanguine
+assure me it must produce, my whole fortune is involved. If I can
+recover from the wreck what will secure to my poor mother the
+continuance of her accustomed comforts, it will be beyond my hopes; for
+me--the luxuries, the comforts, the very necessaries of life must be the
+produce of my own exertion. I do not ask you to share my poverty,
+Caroline; I cannot be so selfish; had I not spoken of my love last
+night, you should never have heard it--though it had been like a burning
+fire, I would have shut it up within my heart--but it is too late for
+this; you have heard it, and I have heard--the remembrance brings with
+it a wild delirious joy, even in this hour of darkness "--and the pale
+face of Philip Oswald flushed, and his dimmed eye beamed brightly again
+as he spoke: "I have heard your sweet confession of reciprocal regard.
+Months, perhaps years may pass before I attain the goal at which I last
+night thought myself to have already arrived--before I can dare to call
+you mine--but in our land, manly determination and perseverance ever
+command success, and I fear not to promise you, dearest, one day a happy
+home--though not a splendid one--if you will promise me to share it.
+Look on me, Caroline--give me one smile to light me on my way--with such
+a hope before me, I cannot say my _dreary_ way."
+
+He ceased, yet Caroline neither looked upon him, nor spoke. Her cheek
+had grown pale at his words, and she sat down with downcast eyes, cold,
+still, statue-like at his side. Yet did not Philip Oswald doubt her
+love. Had not her eye kindled and her cheek flushed at his whispered
+vows--had not her hand rested lovingly in his, and her lip been yielded
+to the first kiss of love--how, then, could he dare to doubt her? She
+was grieved for his sake--he had been selfishly abrupt in his first
+communication of his sorrow, and now he--the stronger--must struggle to
+bear and to speak cheerfully for her sake. And with this feeling he had
+been able to conclude far more cheerfully than he commenced. As she
+still continued silent, he bent forward, and would have pressed his lip
+to her cheek, saying, "Not one word for me, dear one,"--but, drawing
+hastily back, Caroline said with great effort,
+
+"I think, Mr. Oswald--it seems to me that--that--an engagement must be a
+heavy burden to one who has to make his own way in life--I--I should be
+sorry to be a disadvantage to you."
+
+It was a crushing blow, and for an instant he sat stunned into almost
+death-like stillness by it:--but he rallied;--he would leave no loop on
+which hope or fancy might hereafter hang a doubt. "Caroline," he said,
+in a voice whose change spoke the intensity of his feelings, "do not
+speak of disadvantage to me--your love was the one star left in my
+sky--but that matters not--what I would know is, whether you desire that
+the record of last evening should be blotted from the history of our
+lives?"
+
+"I--I think it had better be--I am sure I wish you well, Mr. Oswald."
+
+It was well for her, perhaps, that she did not venture to meet his
+eye--that look of withering scorn could hardly ever have vanished from
+her memory--it was enough to hear his bitter laugh, and the accents in
+which he said, "Thank you, Miss Danby--your wishes are fully
+reciprocated--may you never know a love less prudent than your own."
+
+The door closed on him, and she was alone--left to the companionship of
+her own heart--evil companionship in such an hour! She hastened to
+relate all that had passed to Mary, but Mary had no assurances for
+her--she had only sympathy for Philip--"dear Philip"--as she called him
+over and over again. "I think it would better become one so young as you
+are, to say, Mr. Oswald, Mary," said Caroline, pettishly.
+
+"I have called him Philip from my childhood, Caroline--I shall not begin
+to say Mr. Oswald _now_." Mary did not mean a reproach, but to
+Caroline's accusing conscience it sounded like one, and she turned away
+indignantly. She soon, however, sought her cousin again with a note in
+her hand.
+
+"I have been writing to Mrs. Oswald, Mary," she said; "you are perhaps
+too young, and Mr. Oswald too much absorbed in his own disappointment,
+to estimate the propriety of my conduct; but she will, I am sure, agree
+with me, that one expensively reared as I have been, accustomed to every
+luxury, and perfectly ignorant of economy, would make the worst possible
+wife to a poor man; and she has so much influence over Mr. Oswald, that,
+should she accord with me in opinion on this point, she can easily
+convince him of its justice. Will you take my note to her? I do not like
+to send it by a servant--it might fall into Philip's hands."
+
+Nothing could have pleased Mary more than this commission, for her
+affectionate heart was longing to offer its sympathy to her friends.
+Mrs. Oswald assumed perhaps a little more than her usual stateliness
+when she heard her announced, but it vanished instantly before Mary's
+tearful eye, as she kissed the hand that was extended to her. Mrs.
+Oswald folded her arms around her, and Mary sank sobbing upon the bosom
+of her whom she had come to console. And Mrs. Oswald was consoled by
+such true and tender sympathy. It was long before Mary could prevail on
+herself to disturb the flow of gentler affections by delivering
+Caroline's note. Mrs. Oswald received it with an almost contemptuous
+smile, which remained unchanged while she read. It was a labored effort
+to make her conduct seem a generous determination not to obstruct
+Philip's course in life, by binding him to a companion so unsuitable to
+his present prospects as herself. In reply, Mrs. Oswald assured Caroline
+Danby of her perfect agreement with her in the conviction that she
+would make a very unsuitable wife for Philip Oswald. "This," she added,
+"was always my opinion, though I was unwilling to oppose my son's
+wishes. I thank you for having convinced him I was right in the only
+point on which we ever differed."
+
+It cannot be supposed that this note was very pleasing to Caroline
+Danby; but, whatever were her dissatisfaction, she did not complain, and
+probably soon lost all remembrance of her chagrin in the gayeties which
+a few men of fortune still remained, amidst the almost universal ruin,
+to promote and to partake.
+
+In the mean time, Philip Oswald was experiencing that restlessness, that
+burning desire to free himself from all his present associations, to
+begin, as it were, a new life, which the first pressure of sorrow so
+often arouses in the ardent spirit. Had not his will been "bound down by
+the iron chain of necessity," he would probably have returned to Europe,
+and wasted his energies amidst aimless wanderings. As it was, he chose
+among those modes of life demanded by his new circumstances, that which
+would take him farthest from New-York, and place him in a condition the
+most foreign to all his past experience, and demanding the most active
+and most incessant exertion. Out of that which the fire, the failure of
+Insurance Companies and of private individuals, had left him remained,
+after the purchase of a liberal annuity for his mother, a few thousands
+to be devoted either to merchandise, to his support while pursuing the
+studies necessary for the acquirement of a profession, or to any mode of
+gaining a living, which he might prefer to these. The very hour which
+ascertained this fact, saw his resolution taken and his course marked
+out.
+
+"I must have new scenery for this new act in the drama of my life," he
+said to his mother. "I must away--away from all the artificialities and
+trivialities of my present world, to the rich prairies, the wide
+streams, the boundless expanse of the West. I go to make a new home for
+you dear mother--you shall be the queen of my kingdom."
+
+This was not the choice that would have pleased an ambitious, or an
+over-fond mother. The former would have preferred a profession, as
+conferring higher social distinction; the latter would have shrunk from
+seeing one nursed in the lap of luxury go forth to encounter the
+hardships of a pioneer. But Mrs. Oswald possessed an intelligence which
+recognized in that life of bold adventure, and physical endurance, and
+persevering labor, that awaited her son in the prosecution of his plans,
+the best school for the development of that decision and force of
+character which she had desired as the crowning seal to Philip's
+intellectual endowments, warm affections, and just principles; and,
+holding his excellence as the better part of her own happiness, she
+sanctioned his designs, and did all in her power to promote their
+execution. He waited, therefore, only to see her leave the house whose
+rent now exceeded her whole annual income, for pleasant rooms in a
+boarding-house, agreeably situated, before he set out from New-York.
+
+It is not our intention minutely to trace his course, to describe the
+"local habitation" which he acquired, or detail the difficulties which
+arose in his progress, the strength with which he combated, or the means
+by which he overcame them. For his course, suffice it that it was
+westward; for his habitation, that it was on the slope of a hill crowned
+with the gigantic trees of that fertile soil, and beside a lake, "a
+sheet of silver" well fitted to be--
+
+    "A mirror and a bath for beauty's youngest daughters;"
+
+and that the house, which he at length succeeded in raising and
+furnishing there, united somewhat the refinement of his past life to the
+simplicity of his present; for his difficulties, we can only say, he
+met them and conquered them, and gained from each encounter knowledge
+and power. For two years, letters were the only medium of intercourse
+between his mother and himself, but those letters were a history--a
+history not only of his stirring, outer life, but of that inner life
+which yet more deeply interested her. Feeling proud herself of the
+daring spirit, the iron will, the ready invention which these letters
+displayed, yet prouder of the affectionate heart, the true and generous
+nature, it is not wonderful that Mrs. Oswald should have often read
+them, or at least parts of them, to her constant friend and very
+frequent visitor, Mary Grayson. Nor is it more strange that Mary, thus
+made to recognize in the most interesting man she had yet known, far
+more lofty claims to her admiration, should have enshrined him in her
+young and pure imagination as some "bright, particular star."
+
+Two years in the future! How almost interminable seems the prospect to
+our hopes or our affections!--but let Time turn his perspective
+glass--let us look at it in the past, and how it shrinks and becomes as
+a day in the history of our lives! So was it with Philip Oswald's two
+years of absence, when he found himself, in the earliest dawn of the
+spring of 1838, once more in New-York. Yet that time had not passed
+without leaving traces of its passage--traces in the changes affecting
+those around him--yet deeper traces in himself. He arrived in the
+afternoon of an earlier day than that on which he had been expected. In
+the evening Mrs. Oswald persuaded him to assume, for the gratification
+of her curiosity, the picturesque costume worn by him in his western
+home. He had just re-entered her room, and she was yet engaged in
+animated observation of the hunting-shirt, strapped around the waist
+with a belt of buckskin, the open collar, and loosely knotted cravat,
+which, as the mother's heart whispered, so well became that tall and
+manly form, when there was a slight tap at the door, and before she
+could speak, it opened, and Mary Grayson stood within it. She gazed in
+silence for a moment on the striking figure before her, and her mind
+rapidly scanned the changes which time and new modes of life had made in
+the Philip Oswald of her memory. As she did so, she acknowledged that
+the embrowned face and hands, the broader and more vigorous proportions,
+and even the easy freedom of his dress, were more in harmony with the
+bold and independent aspect which his character had assumed, than the
+delicacy and elegance by which he had formerly been distinguished. His
+outer man was now the true index of a noble, free, and energetic
+spirit--a spirit which, having conquered itself, was victor over
+all--and as such, it attracted from Mary a deeper and more reverent
+admiration, than she had felt for him when adorned with all the
+trappings of wealth and luxurious refinement. The very depth of this
+sentiment destroyed the ease of her manner towards him, and as Philip
+Oswald took the hand formerly so freely offered him, and heard from her
+lips the respectful Mr. Oswald, instead of the frank, sisterly Philip,
+he said to himself--"She looks down upon the backwoodsman, and would
+have him know his place." So much for man's boasted penetration!
+
+Notwithstanding the barrier of reserve thus erected between them, Philip
+Oswald could not but admire the rare loveliness into which Mary
+Grayson's girlish prettiness had expanded, and again, and yet again,
+while she was speaking to his mother, and could not therefore perceive
+him, he turned to gaze on her, fascinated not by the finely turned form
+or beautiful features, but by the countenance beaming with gentle and
+refined intelligence. Here was none of the brilliancy which had dazzled
+his senses in Caroline Danby, but an expression of mind and heart far
+more captivating to him who had entered into the inner mysteries of
+life.
+
+A fortnight was the limit of Philip Oswald's stay in the city. He had
+come not for his mother, but for the house in which she was to live, and
+he carried it back with him. We do not mean that his house, with all its
+conveniences of kitchen and pantry, its elegances of parlor and
+drawing-room, and its decorations of pillar and cornice fitly joined
+together, travelled off with him to the far West. We do not despair of
+seeing such a feat performed some day, but we believe it has not yet
+been done, and Philip Oswald, at least, did not attempt it; he took with
+him, however, all those useful and ornamental contrivances in their
+several parts, accompanied by workmen skilled in putting the whole
+together. Again in his western home, for another year, his head and his
+hands were fully occupied with building and planting. For the first two
+years of his forest life, he had thought only of the substantial produce
+of the field--the rye, the barley, the Indian corn, which were to be
+exchanged for the "omnipotent dollar"--but woman was coming, and beauty
+and grace must be the herald of her steps. For his mother, he planted
+fruits and flowers, opened views of the lake, made a gravelled walk to
+its shore bordered with flowering shrubs, and wreathed the woodbine, the
+honeysuckle, and the multiflora rose around the columns of his piazza.
+For his mother this was done, and yet, when the labors of the day were
+over, and he looked forth upon them in the cool, still evening hour, it
+was not his mother's face, but one younger and fairer which peered out
+upon him from the vine-leaves, or with tender smiles wooed him to the
+lake. Young, fair, and tender as it was, its wooings generally sent him
+in an opposite direction, with a sneer at his own folly, to stifle his
+fancies with a book, or to mark out the plan of the morrow's operations.
+
+More than a year had passed away and Philip Oswald was again in
+New-York, just as spring was gliding into the ardent embraces of
+summer. This time he had come for his mother, and with all the force of
+his resolute will, he shut his ears to the flattering suggestions of
+fancy, that a dearer pleasure than even that mother's presence might be
+won. He had looked steadily upon his lot in life, and he accepted it,
+and determined to make the best of it and to be happy in it; yet he felt
+that it was after all a rugged lot. Without considering all women as
+mercenary as Caroline Danby, which his knowledge of his mother forbade
+him to do, even in his most woman-scorning mood, he yet doubted whether
+any of those who had been reared amidst the refinements of cultivated
+life, could be won to leave them all for love in the western wilds; and
+as the unrefined could have no charms for him, he deliberately embraced
+_bachelordom_ as a part of his portion, and, not without a sigh, yielded
+himself to the conviction that all the wealth of woman's love within his
+power to attain, was locked within a mother's heart.
+
+A fortnight was again the allotted time of Philip Oswald's stay; but
+when that had expired, he was persuaded to delay his departure for yet
+another week. He had been drawn, by accompanying his mother in her
+farewell visits, once more within the vortex of society, and his manly
+independence and energy, his knowledge of what was to his companions a
+new world, and his spirit-stirring descriptions of its varied beauty and
+inexhaustible fertility, made him more the fashion than he had ever
+been. He had often met Caroline Danby--now Mrs. Randall--and Mary more
+than once delicately turned her eyes away from her cousin's face, lest
+she should read there somewhat of chagrin as Mr. Randall, with his
+meaningless face and dapper-looking form--insignificant in all save the
+reputation of being the wealthiest banker in Wall-street, and possessing
+the most elegant house and furniture, the best appointed equipage, and
+the handsomest wife in the city--stood beside Philip Oswald with
+
+               "----a form indeed
+    Where every god did seem to set his seal,
+    To give the world assurance of a man,"
+
+and a face radiant with intelligence, while circled by an attentive
+auditory of that which was noblest and best in their world, his eloquent
+enthusiasm made them hear the rushing waters, see the boundless
+prairies, and feel for a time all the wild freedom of the untamed West.
+Such enthusiasm was gladly welcomed as a breeze in the still air, a
+ruffle in the stagnant waters of fashionable life.
+
+Within two or three days of their intended departure, Mrs. Oswald
+proposed to Philip that they should visit a friend residing near Fort
+Lee, and invited Mary to accompany them. Among the acquaintances whom
+they found on board was an invalid lady, who could not bear the fresh
+air upon deck; and Mary, pitying her loneliness and seclusion, remained
+for awhile conversing with her in the cabin. Mrs. Oswald and Philip were
+on deck, and near them was a young and giddy girl, to whose care a
+mother had intrusted a bold, active, joyous infant, seemingly about
+eight months old.
+
+"That is a dangerous position for so lively a child," said Philip Oswald
+to the young nurse, as he saw her place him on the side of the boat; "he
+may spring from your arms overboard."
+
+With that foolish tempting of the danger pointed out by another, which
+we sometimes see even in women, the girl removed her arms from around
+the child, sustaining only a slight hold of its frock. At this moment
+the flag of the boat floated within view of the little fellow, and he
+sprang towards it. A splash in the water told the rest--but even before
+that was heard, Philip Oswald had dashed off his boots and coat, and
+the poor child had scarcely touched the waves when he was beside it, and
+held it encircled in his arm.
+
+"Oh, Mary! Mr. Oswald! Mr. Oswald!" cried one of Mary's young
+acquaintances, rushing into the cabin with a face blanched with terror.
+
+"What of him?" questioned Mary, starting eagerly forward.
+
+"He is in the water. Oh, Mary! he will be drowned."
+
+Mary did not utter a sound, yet she felt in that moment, for the first
+time, how important to her was Philip Oswald's life. Tottering towards
+the door, she leaned against it for a moment while all around grew dark,
+and strange sounds were buzzing in her ears. The next instant she sank
+into a chair and lost her terrors in unconsciousness. The same young
+lady who had played the alarmist to her, as she saw the paleness of
+death settle on Mary's face and her eyes close, ran again upon the deck,
+exclaiming, "Mary Grayson is fainting,--pray come to Mary Grayson."
+
+Philip Oswald was already on deck, dripping indeed, but unharmed and
+looking nobler than ever, as he held the recovered child in his arms. As
+that cry, "Mary Grayson is fainting," reached his ears, he threw the
+infant to a bystander, and hastened to the cabin followed by Mrs.
+Oswald.
+
+"What has caused this?" cried Mrs. Oswald, as she saw Mary still
+insensible, supported on the bosom of her invalid friend.
+
+"Miss Ladson's precipitation," said the invalid, looking not very
+pleasantly on that young lady; "she told her Mr. Oswald was drowning."
+
+"Well, I am sure I thought he was drowning."
+
+"If he had been, it would have been a pity to give such information so
+abruptly," said Mrs. Oswald, as she took off Mary's bonnet, and loosened
+the scarf which was tied around her neck.
+
+"I am sure," exclaimed Miss Ladson, anxious only to secure herself from
+blame,--"I am sure I did not suppose Mary would faint; for when her
+uncle's horse threw him, and every body thought he was killed, instead
+of fainting she ran out in the street, and did for him more than any
+body else could do. I am sure I could not think she would care more for
+Mr. Oswald's danger than for her own uncle's."
+
+No one replied to this insinuation; but that Philip Oswald heard it,
+might have been surmised from the sudden flush that rose to his temples,
+and from his closer clasp of the unconscious form, which at his mother's
+desire he was bearing to a settee. Whether it were the water which oozed
+from his saturated garments over her face and neck, or some subtle
+magnetic fluid conveyed in that tender clasp, that aroused her, we
+cannot tell; but a faint tinge of color revisited her cheeks and lips,
+and as Philip laid her tenderly down, while his arms were still around
+her, and his face was bending over her, she opened her eyes. What there
+was in that first look which called such a sudden flash of joy into
+Philip Oswald's eyes, we know not; nor what were the whispered words
+which, as he bowed his head yet lower, sent a crimson glow into Mary's
+pale cheeks. This however we do know, that Mrs. Oswald and her son
+delayed their journey for yet another week; and that the day before
+their departure Philip Oswald stood with Mary Grayson at his side before
+God's holy altar, and there, in the presence of his mother, Mr. Danby,
+Mr. and Mrs. Randall, and a few friends, they took those vows which made
+them one for ever.
+
+Does some starched prude, or some lady interested in the bride's
+_trousseau_, exclaim against such unseemly haste? We have but one excuse
+for them. They were so unfashionable as to prefer the gratification of a
+true affection to the ceremonies so dear to vanity, and to think more of
+the earnest claims of life than of its gilded pomps.
+
+Mr. Danby had been unable to pay down the bride's small dower of 8000
+dollars; and when he called on his son-in-law, Mr. Randall, to assist
+him, he could only offer to indorse his note to Mr. Oswald for the
+amount, acknowledging that it would be perilous at that time to abstract
+even half that amount from his business. It probably would have been
+perilous indeed, as in little more than a month after he failed for an
+enormous amount; but fear not, reader, for the gentle Caroline: she
+still retained her elegant house and furniture, her handsome equipage
+and splendid jewels. These were only a small part of what the indignant
+creditors found had been made over to her by her grateful husband.
+
+Six years have passed away since the occurrence of the events we have
+been recording. Caroline Randall, weary of the sameness of splendor in
+her home, has been abroad for two years, travelling with a party of
+friends. It is said--convenient phrase that--that her husband had
+declared she must and shall return, and that to enforce his will he has
+resolved to send her no more remittances, to honor no more of her
+drafts, as she has already almost beggared him by her extravagance
+abroad. Verily, she has her reward!
+
+One farewell glance at our favorite, Mary Grayson, and we have done.
+
+Beside a lovely lake, over whose margin light graceful shrubs are
+bending, and on whose transparent waters lie the dense forest shadows,
+though here and there the golden rays of the declining sun flash through
+the tangled boughs upon its dancing waves, a noble-looking boy of four
+years old is sailing his mimic fleet, while a lovely girl, two years
+younger, toddles about, picking "pitty flowers," and bringing them to
+"papa, mamma, or grandmamma," as her capricious fancy prompts. Near by,
+papa, mamma, grandmamma, and one pleased and honored guest, are grouped
+beneath the bending boughs of a magnificent black walnut, and around a
+table on which strawberries and cream, butter sweet as the breath of the
+cows that yielded it, biscuits light and white, and bread as good as
+Humbert himself could make, are served in a style of elegant simplicity,
+while the silver urn in which the water hisses, and the small china cups
+into which the fragrant tea is poured, if they are somewhat antique in
+fashion, are none the less beautiful or the less valued by those who
+still prize the slightest object associated with the affections beyond
+the gratification of the vanity.
+
+The evening meal is over. The shadows grow darker on the lake. Agreeable
+conversation has given place to silent enjoyment, which Mrs. Oswald
+interrupts to say, "Philip, this is the hour for music; let us have some
+before Mary leaves us with the children."
+
+Full, deep-toned was the manly voice that swelled upon that evening air,
+and soft and clear its sweet accompaniment, while the words, full of
+adoring gratitude and love, seemed incense due to the heaven which had
+so blessed them.
+
+The last sweet notes had died away, and Mary, calling the children,
+leads them to their quiet repose, after they have bestowed their
+good-night kisses. Philip Oswald follows her with his eyes, as, with a
+child on each hand, she advances with gentle grace upon the easy slope,
+to the house on its summit. She enters the piazza, and is screened from
+his view by its lattice-work of vines, but he knows that soon his
+children will be lisping their evening prayer at her knee, and the
+thought calls a tender expression to his eyes as he turns them away from
+his "sweet home."
+
+Contrast this picture with that of Caroline Randall's heartless
+splendor, and say whether thou wilt choose for thy portion the
+gratification of the true and pure household affections which Heaven has
+planted in thy nature, or that of a selfish vanity?
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+
+This morning, as I sat in the library writing a letter, Annie came in
+and seated herself at a table on the opposite side of the room. Her
+unusual stillness caused me to look up after some minutes, and I found
+that Mr. Arlington's portfolio having been left upon the table, she had
+drawn from it one of his pencilings, and was gazing steadfastly upon it,
+as I could not but think, with something troubled in the expression of
+her usually open and cheerful face. While I was still observing her, the
+door behind her opened, and Mr. Arlington himself entered. A blush arose
+to Annie's cheeks as she saw him; a blush which had its origin, I
+thought, in some deeper feeling than a mere girlish shame at being found
+so engrossed by one of his productions.
+
+"What have you there?" he asked, as seating himself beside her, he took
+the paper from what seemed to me her somewhat reluctant hand. No sooner
+had he looked on it, than his own bright face became shadowed, as hers
+had been, and yet he smiled, too, as he said, "That portfolio is really
+an _omnium gatherum_. I had no idea this had found its way there. When I
+first read Mrs. Hemans' poem of 'The Bird's Release,' it reminded me of
+this scene of my boyhood, though if I have never spoken to you of my
+darling Grace, you will not be able to understand why."
+
+"You never have," said Annie, answering his looks rather than his words,
+while a slight increase of color was again perceptible in her fair
+cheek.
+
+"She was my sister, my only sister; we were but two, the petted darlings
+of a widowed mother. I told you, that few could sympathize as I could
+with Koerner's memory of Mother-love. I was but six years old, and just
+such a chubby, broad-shouldered little varlet, I fancy, as I have
+sketched here, when Grace, who was two years older, and the loveliest,
+merriest little creature in the world, died. My mother was already
+beginning to feel the influence of that disease, which, two years later,
+terminated her life, and, I have no doubt, the death of Grace, who was
+her idol, increased the rapidity of its progress."
+
+There was silence for some minutes, and then Annie said softly, "But
+what of the bird?"
+
+"It was a thrush which had been given to Grace some time before her
+death, and which she was trying to tame for me. My mother could not bear
+to see it after her death, and with some difficulty persuaded me to give
+it its liberty. You will now see why I should have dedicated this sketch
+to Grace, and why these lines should have brought the scene to my mind,
+and caused me indeed to make this drawing of it."
+
+"Will you read the lines for me?" asked Annie, "I had not finished them
+when you took the paper from me."
+
+To tell you a secret, reader, I do not believe she had seen any thing on
+the paper except the few words in German text written at its head, "To
+my darling Grace."
+
+Mr. Arlington read in a tone of feeling and interest,--
+
+
+THE BIRD'S RELEASE.
+
+BY MRS. HEMANS.
+
+      Go forth, for she is gone!
+    With the golden light of her wavy hair
+    She is gone to the fields of the viewless air:
+      She hath left her dwelling lone!
+
+      Her voice hath pass'd away!
+    It hath passed away like a summer breeze,
+    When it leaves the hills for the for blue seas,
+      Where we may not trace its way.
+
+      Go forth, and like her be free:
+    With thy radiant wing, and thy glancing eye,
+    Thou hast all the range of the sunny sky,
+      And what is our grief to thee?
+
+      Is it aught even to her we mourn?
+    Doth she look on the tears by her kindred shed?
+    Doth she rest with the flowers o'er her gentle head?
+      Or float on the light wind borne?
+
+      We know not--but she is gone!
+    Her step from the dance, her voice from the song,
+    And the smile of her eye from the festal throng;
+      She hath loft her dwelling lone!
+
+      When the waves at sunset shine,
+    We may hear thy voice amidst thousands more,
+    In the scented woods of our glowing shore;
+      But we shall not know 'tis thine!
+
+      Even so with the loved one flown!
+    Her smile in the starlight may wander by,
+    Her breath may be near in the wind's low sigh
+      Around us--but all unknown.
+
+      Go forth, we have loosed thy chains!
+    We may deck thy cage with the richest flowers
+    Which the bright day rears in our eastern bowers;
+      But thou wilt not be lured again.
+
+      Even thus may the summer pour
+    All fragrant things on the land's green breast,
+    And the glorious earth like a bride be dress'd;
+      But it wins _her_ back no more!
+
+I was doubtful whether either Mr. Arlington or Annie were aware of my
+presence, and was just debating with myself whether I should make them
+aware of it by addressing them, or quietly steal away, when Col.
+Donaldson decided the point by entering the library and speaking to me.
+He came to ask that I would come to the parlor and see a boy who had
+just been sent from one of our charitable institutions, to which he had
+applied for a lad to act as a helper to his old waiter, John, who was
+now old enough to require some indulgence, and had always been
+trustworthy enough to deserve some. The boy looked intelligent and
+honest--he was neat in his person and active in his movements.
+
+"He is an orphan," said Col. Donaldson, "and the managers of the
+institution have offered to bind him to me for seven years, or till he
+is of age. What do you think of it!"
+
+"If the boy himself be willing, I should be glad to know he was so well
+provided for," I replied; "though in general, no abolitionist can be
+more vehemently opposed to negro slavery than I am to this
+apprenticeship business. What is it but a slavery of the worst
+description? The master is endowed with irresponsible power, without the
+interest in the well-being of his slave, which the planter, the actual
+owner of slaves, ordinarily feels."
+
+"You speak strongly," said Col. Donaldson.
+
+"I feel strongly on this subject," I answered. "I knew one instance of
+the effects of this system which I have often thought of publishing to
+the world, as speaking more powerfully against it than a thousand
+addresses could do."
+
+"Tell it to us, Aunt Nancy," said Robert Dudley.
+
+"It is too long to tell now," said I, as the dinner-bell sounded.
+
+"Then let us have it this evening," urged Col. Donaldson--"for it is a
+subject in which I am much interested."
+
+Accordingly, in the evening, I gave them the "o'er true tale" of
+
+
+THE YOUNG MISANTHROPE.
+
+"In the blue summer ocean, far off and alone," lies a little island,
+known to mariners in the Pacific only for the fine water with which it
+supplies them, and for the bold shore which makes it possible for ships
+of considerable tonnage to lie in quiet near the land. Discovered at
+first by accident, it has been long, for these reasons, visited both by
+English and American whalers. A few years since, and no trace of man's
+presence could be found there beyond the belt of rocks, amidst which
+arose the springs that were the chief, and indeed only attraction the
+island presented to the rough, hardy men by whom it had been visited.
+But within that stony girdle lay a landscape soft and lovely as any that
+arose within the tropical seas. There the plantain waved its leafy
+crown, the orange shed its rich perfume, and bore its golden fruit aloft
+upon the desert air, and the light, feathery foliage of the tamarind
+moved gracefully to the touch of the dallying breeze. All was green, and
+soft, and fair, for there no winter chills the life of nature, but,
+
+    "The bee banquets on through a whole year of flowers."
+
+It was a scene which might have seemed created for the abode of some
+being too bright and good for the common earth of common men, or for
+some Hinda and Hafed, who, driven from a world all too harsh and evil
+for their nobler natures, might have found in it a refuge,
+
+    "Where the bright eyes of angels only
+    Should come around them to behold
+    A paradise so pure and lonely."
+
+Alas for the dream of the poet! This beautiful island became the refuge,
+not of pure and loving hearts, but of one from whose nature cruel
+tyranny seemed to have blotted out every feeling and every faculty save
+hatred and fear; and he who first introduced into its yet untainted
+solitudes the bitter sorrows and dark passions of humanity, was a child,
+who, but ten years before, had lain in all the loveliness of sinless
+infancy upon a mother's bosom. Of that mother's history he knew
+nothing--whether her sin or only her sorrows had thrown him fatherless
+upon the world, he was ignorant--he had only a dim memory of gentle
+eyes, which had looked on him as no others had ever looked, and of a
+low, sweet voice, speak to him such words as he had never heard from any
+other. He had been loved, and that love had made his life of penury in
+an humble hovel in England, bright and beautiful; but his mother had
+passed away from earth, and with her all the light of his existence.
+Child as he was, the succeeding darkness preserved long in brightness
+the memory of the last look from her fast glazing eyes, the last words
+from her dying lips, the last touch of her already death-cold hand. She
+died, and the same reluctant charity which consigned her to a pauper's
+grave, gave to her boy a dwelling in the parish poor-house. With the
+tender mercies of such institutions the author of Oliver Twist has made
+the world acquainted. They were such in the present case, that the poor
+little Edward Hallett welcomed as the first glad words that had fallen
+on his ears for two long, weary years, the news that he was to be bound
+apprentice to a captain sailing from Portsmouth in a whaling ship. He
+learned rather from what was said _near_ him, than _to_ him, that this
+man wanted a cabin boy, but would not have one who was not bound to him,
+or to use the more expressive language in which it reached the ears of
+his destined victim, "one with whom he could not do as he pleased."
+
+He who had come within the poor-house walls at six years old, a glad,
+rosy-cheeked, chubby child, went from them at eight, thin, and pale, and
+grave, with a frame broken by want and labor, a mind clouded, and a
+heart repressed by unkindness. But, sad as was the history of those
+years, the succeeding two taught the poor boy to regard them as the
+vanished brightness of a dream. The man--we should more justly say, the
+fiend--to whom the next fourteen years of his life were by bond devoted,
+was a savage by nature, and had been rendered yet more brutal by habits
+of intoxication. In his drunken orgies, his favorite pastime was to
+torture the unfortunate being whom the "guardians of the poor" of an
+English parish had placed in his power. It would make the heart of the
+reader sick, were we to attempt a detail of the many horrible inventions
+by which this modern Caligula amused his leisure hours, and made life
+hideous to his victim. Nor was it only from this arch-fiend that the
+poor boy suffered. Mate, cook, and sailors, soon found in him a butt for
+their jokes, an object on which they might safely vent their ill-humor,
+and a convenient cover for their own delinquencies.
+
+He was beaten for and by them. The evil qualities which man had himself
+elicited from his nature, if not implanted there--the sullenness, and
+hardiness, and cunning he evinced, were made an excuse for further
+injury. During his first voyage of eighteen months, spite of all this,
+hope was not entirely dead in his heart. The ship was to return to
+England, and he determined to run away from her, and find his way back
+to the poor-house. It was a miserable refuge, but it was his only one.
+He escaped--he found his way thither through many dangers--he told his
+story. It was heard with incredulity, and he was returned to his
+tormentors, to learn that there is even in hell "a deeper hell."
+
+Again he went on a whaling voyage. Day after day the fathomless, the
+seemingly illimitable sea, the image of the Infinite was around him--but
+his darkened mind saw in it only a prison, which shut him in with his
+persecutors. Night after night the stars beamed peacefully above him,
+luring his thoughts upward, but he saw in them only the signals of
+drunken revelry to others, and of deeper woe to himself. There was but
+one wish in his heart--it had almost ceased to be a hope--to escape from
+man; to live and die where he should never see his form, never hear his
+voice. The ship encountered a severe storm. She was driven from her
+course, her voyage lengthened, and some of her water-casks were stove
+in. They made for an island, not far distant, by the chart, to take in a
+fresh supply of water. Edward Hallett heard the sailors say to each
+other that this island was uninhabited, and his wish grew into a
+passionate desire--a hope. For the completion of this hope, he had but
+one resource--the sword and the shield of the feeble--cunning; and well
+he exercised his weapon.
+
+The ship lay within a quarter of a mile of the shore, and a boat was
+sent to procure water--one man remaining always to fill the empty
+vessels while the others returned to the ship with those already filled.
+The best means of accomplishing his purpose that occurred to the poor
+boy was to feign the utmost degree of terror at the lonely and
+unprotected situation of this man during the absence of his comrades. He
+spoke his terrors where he knew they would be heard by the prime author
+of his miseries. The result was what he had anticipated.
+
+"Ye're afraid, are ye, of being left there by yerself! Ye'd rather be
+whipped, or tied up by the thumbs, or be kept at the mast-head all
+night, would ye? Then, dam'me, that's just what I'll do to you. Here,
+hold on with that boat--take this youngster with you, and you can bring
+back Tom, and leave him to fill the casks for you."
+
+Well did the object of his tyranny act his part. He entreated, he
+adjured all around him to save him from so dreaded a fate--in vain, of
+course--for his affected agonies only riveted the determination of his
+tyrant. It was a new delight to see him writhe in agony, and strive to
+draw back from those who were urging him to the boat. He was forced in,
+borne to the island, and left to his task. But this was not enough. He
+could not escape in the broad light of day, from a spot directly under
+the eyes of his tormentors, while between him and the ship a boat was
+ever coming and going. Through the day he must persist in the part he
+had assumed. He did not fail to continue it, and when the day approached
+its close, he sent to the ship the most urgent entreaties that he might
+be allowed to return there before it was night. The sailors, rough and
+hard as they generally were to him, sympathized with his agony of fear,
+and asked that he might return; but his demon was now inflamed by drink,
+and every word in favor of his petition insured its rejection. He even
+made the unusual exertion of going up himself in the last boat, that he
+might see the victim of his malice, and feast his ears with the cries
+and objurgations which terror would wring from him.
+
+"If we should forget you in the morning, you can take the next homeward
+bound ship that stops here, but don't tell your friends at the
+poor-house too bad a tale of us," were the parting words of this wretch.
+
+Darkness and silence were around the desolate boy, but they brought no
+fear with them. Man, his enemy, was not there. He saw not the beauty of
+the heavens, from which the stars looked down on him in their unchanged
+serenity, or of the earth, where flowers were springing at his feet, and
+graceful shrubs were waving over him. He heard not the deep-toned sea
+uttering its solemn music, or the breeze whispering its softer notes in
+his ear. He only saw the ship, the abode of men, fading into
+indistinctness, as the darkness threw its veil over it; he only heard
+the voice in his heart, proclaiming ever and again, "I am free." Before
+the morrow dawned, he had surmounted the rocks at the landing place, and
+wandered on with no aim, but to put as great a distance as possible
+between him and the ship. Two hours' walking brought him again to the
+sea, in an opposite direction to that by which he had approached the
+island. Here he crawled into a hiding-place among the rocks, and lay
+down to rest. The day was again declining before he ventured forth from
+his covert, and cautiously approached the distant shore, whence he might
+see the ship. He reached the spring by which he had stood yester eve,
+when his companions parted from him, with something like pity stirring
+in the hearts of all but one among them. Fearfully he looked
+around--before him--but no shadow on the earth, no sail upon the
+pathless sea, told of man's presence. He was alone--alone indeed, for
+the beauty of Nature aroused no emotion in his withered heart, and he
+held no communion with Nature's God. He was indeed an orphaned soul.
+Could he have loved, had it been but a simple flower, he would have felt
+something of the joy of life; but the very power of love seemed to have
+been crushed from his heart, by years of cold neglect and harsh
+unkindness.
+
+Weeks, months passed, without any event that might awaken the young
+solitary from his torpor. By day, he roved through the island, or lay
+listlessly under the shadow of a tree; by night, he slept beneath the
+rocks which had first sheltered him; while the fruits, that grew and
+ripened without his care, gave him food. Thus he lived a merely animal
+life, his strongest sensation one of satisfaction for his relief from
+positive suffering, but with nothing that could be called joy in the
+present, and with no hope for the future; one to whom God had given an
+immortal spirit, capable of infinite elevation in the scale of
+intelligence and happiness, and whom man had pressed down to--ay,
+below--the level of the brutes, which sported away their brief existence
+at his side. Such tyranny as he had experienced, is rare; but its
+results may well give an impressive, a fearful lesson, to those to whom
+are committed the destinies of a being unconnected with them by any of
+those ties which awaken tenderness, and call forth indulgence in the
+sternest minds. Let them beware, lest the "iron rule" crush out the life
+of the young heart, and darken the intellect by extinguishing the light
+of hope.
+
+Terrible was the retribution which his crimes wrought out for the author
+of our young hero's miseries. When he received the intelligence from the
+men whom he had sent in the morning to bring him from the island, that
+he was nowhere to be found, he read in their countenance what his own
+heart was ready to repeat to him, that he was his murderer; for neither
+they nor he doubted that the terrified boy had rushed into the sea, and
+been drowned in the effort to escape the horrors raised by his wild and
+superstitious fancy. From that hour his persecutor suffered tortures as
+great as his bitterest enemies could have desired to inflict on him. The
+images which drove him with increased eagerness to the bottle, became
+more vivid and terrific under the influence of intoxication. He drank
+deeper and deeper, in the vain hope to banish them, and died ere many
+months had passed, shouting, in his last moments, alternate prayers and
+curses to the imagined form of him whom he supposed the hope of revenge
+had conjured from the ocean grave to which his cruelties had consigned
+him.
+
+Five months passed over Edward Hallett, in the dead calm of an existence
+agitated by neither hope nor fear. The calm was broken one evening by
+the sight of a seaman, drawing water from the spring which had brought
+his former companions to the island. As he came in sight, the man turned
+his head, and stood for an instant spell-bound by the unexpected vision
+of a human being on that island, whose matted locks and tattered
+garments spoke the extreme of misery. There was only one hope for the
+sad wild boy--it was in flight--and turning, he ran swiftly back; but
+the path was strewn with rocks, and, in his haste, he stumbled and fell.
+In a moment his pursuer stood beside him, acclaiming in a coarse, but
+kindly meant language:--
+
+"What the devil are you runnin' away from me for, youngster?--I'm sure I
+wouldn't hurt ye--but get up, and tell us what you're doing here, and
+where ye've come from."
+
+The speaker attempted, while addressing the boy, to raise him from the
+ground, but he resisted all his efforts, and met all his questioning
+with sullen silence.
+
+"By the powers, I'm thinking I've caught a wild man. I wonder if there's
+any more of 'em. If I can only get this one aboard, he'll make my
+fortune. I'll try for it, any how, and offer the capting to go shares
+with my bargain;" and he proceeded to lift the slight form of the pauper
+boy in his brawny arms, and bear him to the boat, which, during the
+scene, had approached the shore. One who had had less experience of the
+iron nature of man, would have endeavored, in Edward Hallett's
+circumstances, to move his captor by entreaties to leave him to his
+dearly prized freedom; but he had long believed, with the poet,
+
+    "There is no pulse in man's obdurate heart--
+    It does not feel for man;"
+
+and after the first wild struggle, which had only served to show that
+he was an infant in the hands of the strong seaman, he abandoned himself
+to his fate, in silent despair. With closed eyes and lips, he suffered
+himself, without a movement, to be borne to the boat, and deposited in
+it, amidst the many uncouth and characteristic exclamations of his
+captor and his companions, who would not be convinced that it was really
+a child of the human race, thus strangely found on this isolated spot.
+Hastily they bore him to the ship, which the providence of God had sent,
+under the guidance of a kind and noble spirit, for the salvation of
+this, his not forgotten, though long tried creature.
+
+Captain Durbin, of the barque Good Intent, was one who combined, in no
+usual degree, the qualities of boldness and energy with the kindest, the
+tenderest, and most generous feelings. These were wrought into beautiful
+harmony, by the Christian principles which had long governed his life,
+and from which he had learned to be, at the same time, "diligent in
+business" and "kindly affectioned"--to have no _fear_ of man, and to
+love his brother, whom he had seen, as the best manifestation of
+devotion to God, whom he had not seen. Perhaps he had escaped the usual
+effect of his rough trade, in hardening the manners, at least, by the
+influence on him of his only child, a little girl, now six years old,
+who was his constant companion, even in his voyages. Little Emily Durbin
+had lost her mother when she was only two years old. The circumstances
+of her own childhood had wrought into the mind of the dying Mrs. Durbin,
+the conviction that only a parent is a fitting guardian for a child. To
+all argument on this subject she would reply, "It seems to me that God
+has put so much love into a parent's heart, only that he may bear with
+all a child's waywardness, which other people can't be expected to bear
+with."
+
+True to her principles, she had exacted a promise from her husband, in
+her dying hour, that he would never part from their Emily. The promise
+had been sacredly kept.
+
+"I will retire from sea as soon as I have enough to buy a place on
+shore, for Emily's sake; but till then, her home must be in my cabin.
+She is under God's care there, as well as on shore, and perhaps it would
+be better for her, should I be lost at sea, to share my fate." Such were
+the remarks of Captain Durbin, in reply to the well-meant remonstrances
+of his friends.
+
+Emily had a little hammock slung beside his own--the books in which he
+taught her made a large part of his library; and he who had seen her
+kneel beside her father to lisp her childish prayer, or who had heard
+the simple, beautiful faith with which she commended herself to the care
+of her Father in Heaven, when the waves roared and the winds howled
+around her floating home, would have felt, perhaps, that the most
+important end of life, the cultivation of those affections that connect
+us with God and with our fellow-creatures, might be attained as
+perfectly there as elsewhere.
+
+The astonishment of Captain Durbin and the pity of his gentle child may
+be conceived, at the sight of the poor boy, who was brought up from the
+boat by his captor and owner, as he considered himself, and laid at
+their feet, while they sat together in their cabin--he writing in his
+log-book, and she conning her evening lesson. To the proposition that he
+should give the prize so strangely obtained a free passage, and share in
+the advantages to be gained by its exhibition in America, Captain Durbin
+replied by showing the disappointed seaman the impossibility of the
+object of these speculations being some product of Nature's freaks--some
+hitherto unknown animal, with the form, but without the faculties of
+man.
+
+"Do you not see that he has clothes----"
+
+"Clothes do ye call them!" interrupted the blunt sailor, touching the
+pieces of cloth that hung around, but no longer covered the thin limbs.
+
+"Rags, perhaps I had better say--but the rags have been clothes, woven
+and sewn by man's hands--so he must have lived among men--civilized
+men--and he has grown but little, as you may perceive, since those
+clothes were made--therefore, he cannot have been long on the island."
+
+"But how did he get there? Who'd leave a baby like this there by
+himself?"
+
+"That we may never know, for the boy must either be an idiot--which he
+does not look like, however--or insane, or dumb--but let that be as it
+will, we will do our duty by him, and I thank God for having sent us
+here in time to save him."
+
+The master of the ship usually gives the tone to those whom he commands,
+and Captain Durbin found no difficulty in obtaining the help of his men
+in his kind intentions to the boy so strangely brought amongst them. By
+kind, yet rough hands, he was washed, his hair was cut and combed, and a
+suit of clean, though coarse garments, hastily fitted to him by the best
+tailor among them--fitted, not with the precision of Stultz certainly,
+but sufficiently well to enable him to walk in them without danger of
+walking on them or of leaving them behind. But he showed no intention of
+availing himself of these capabilities. Wherever they carried him he
+went without resistance--wherever they placed him he remained--he ate
+the food that was offered him--but no word escaped his lips, no
+voluntary movement was made by him, no look marked his consciousness of
+aught that passed before him. He had again assumed his only shield from
+violence--cunning. He could account in no way for his being left
+unmolested, except from the belief, freely expressed before him, that
+nature, by depriving him of intelligence, or of speech, had unfitted him
+for labor, and he resolved to do nothing that should unsettle that
+belief. But he found it more difficult than he had supposed it would be
+to preserve this resolution, for he was subjected to the action of a
+more potent influence than any he had yet encountered--kindness. All
+were ready to show him this in its common forms, but none so touchingly
+or so tenderly as the little Emily Durbin. It was a beautiful sight to
+see that gentle child, with eyes blue as the heavens, whose pure and
+lovely spirit they seemed to mirror, gazing up at the dark boy as though
+she hoped to catch some ray of the awakening spirit flitting over the
+handsome but stolid features. Sometimes she would sit beside him, take
+his hand in hers, or stroke gently the dark locks that began again to
+hang in neglected curls around his face, and speak to him in the
+tenderest accents, saying, "I love you very much, pretty boy, and my
+father loves you too, and we all love you--don't you love us?--but you
+can't tell me--I forgot that--never mind, I'll ask our Heavenly Father
+to make you talk. Don't you know Jesus made the dumb to speak when he
+was here on earth? Did you ever hear about it? Poor boy! you can't
+answer me--but I'll tell you all about it:" and then in her sweet words
+and pitying voice she would tell of the Saviour of men--how he had made
+the deaf to hear and the dumb to speak, and she would repeat his lessons
+of love, dwelling often on her favorite text, "This is my commandment,
+that ye love one another--even as I have loved you, that ye also love
+one another."
+
+Thus by this babe, God was in his love leading the chilled heart of that
+poor, desolate boy, back to himself--to hope--to heaven. It was
+impossible that the dew of mercy should thus, day by day and hour by
+hour, distil upon a spirit indurated by man's cruelties, without
+softening it. Edward Hallett began to love that sweet child, to listen
+to her step and voice, to gaze upon her fair face, to return her loving
+looks, and to long to tell her all his story. Emily became aware of the
+new expression in his face, and redoubled her manifestations of
+interest. She entreated that he should be brought in when her father
+read the Bible and prayed with her, night and morning. "Who knows, it
+may be that our Heavenly Father will make him hear us," was her simple
+and pathetic response to Captain Durbin's assurance that it was useless,
+as he either could not or would not understand them. Never had Edward
+Hallett's resolution been more severely tried than when he saw her
+kneel, with clasped hands and uplifted face, at her father's knee, and
+heard her pray in her own simple words that "God would bless the poor
+little dumb boy whom he had sent to them, and that he would make him
+speak, and give him a good heart, that he might love them." Captain
+Durbin turned his eyes upon the object of her prayer at that moment, and
+he almost thought that his lips moved, and was quite certain that his
+eyes glistened with emotion. From this time he was as anxious as Emily
+herself for the attendance of the strange boy at their devotions.
+
+For many weeks the ship had sped across that southern sea with light and
+favoring breezes, but at length there came a storm. The heavens were
+black with clouds--the wind swept furiously over the ocean, and drove
+its wild waves in tremendous masses against the reeling ship. Captain
+Durbin was a bold sailor, as we have said, and he had weathered many a
+storm in his trim barque; but Emily knew by the way in which he pressed
+her to his heart this night, before he laid her, not in her hammock, but
+on the narrow floor of his state-room, and by the tone in which he
+ejaculated, "God bless you, and take care of you, my beloved
+child!"--that there was more danger tonight than they had ever before
+encountered together; and as he was leaving her she drew him back and
+said, "Father, I can't sleep, and I should like to talk to the little
+dumb boy; won't you bring him here, and let him sit on my mattress with
+me?"
+
+Captain Durbin brought Edward Hallett and placed him beside Emily,
+where, by bracing themselves against the wall of the state-room, they
+might prevent their being dashed about by the rolling of the vessel.
+Emily welcomed him with an affectionate smile, and taking his hand,
+which now sometimes answered the clasp of hers, told him that he must
+not be afraid, though there was a great storm, for their Father in
+Heaven could deliver them out of it if it were His will, and if it were
+not, He would take them to himself, if they loved Him, and loved one
+another as the blessed Saviour had commanded them. "And you know we must
+die some way," continued the sweet young preacher, "and father says it
+is just as easy to go to Heaven from the sea as from any other place."
+She paused a moment, and then added in a low tone, "But I think I had
+rather die on shore, and be buried by my mother in the green, shady
+church-yard--it is so quiet there."
+
+Emily crept nearer and nearer to her young companion as she spoke, with
+that clinging to human love and care which is felt by the hardest breast
+in moments of dread. His heart was beating high with the tenderest and
+the happiest emotions he had ever known, when a wave sweeping over the
+deck of the ship, and breaking through the skylight, came tumbling in
+upon them. It forced them asunder, and the falling of their lantern at
+the same moment left them in darkness amidst the tossing of the ship,
+the rolling of the furniture, and the noise of the many waters. Edward
+Hallett's first thought was for Emily;--he felt for her on every side,
+but she was not in the state-room; he groped his way into the cabin, but
+he could not find her, and he heard no sound that told of her existence.
+In terror for her, self was forgotten--love conquered fear, as it had
+already obtained the empire over hate, and he called her--"Emily--dear
+Emily!--hear me--answer me, Emily?"
+
+He listened in vain for the faint voice for which he thirsted. Suddenly
+he bounded up the cabin steps and rushed to the post at which he knew
+Captain Durbin was most likely to be found in such a scene, crying as he
+went, "Emily! Emily! oh bring a light and look for Emily!"
+
+The shrill cry of a human heart in agony was heard above the bellowing
+of the winds and the rush of the waves, and without waiting for a
+question, without heeding even the miracle that the dumb had spoken,
+Captain Durbin hastened below, followed by his agitated summoner. As
+quickly as his trembling hands permitted, he struck a light and looked
+around for his child. She had been dashed against a chest, and lay pale
+and seemingly lifeless, with the red blood oozing slowly from a cut in
+the temple. Edward Hallett had lifted her before Captain Durbin could
+lay aside his light, and as he approached him, looking up with a face
+almost as pale as that which lay upon his arm, he exclaimed, "Oh, sir,
+surely she is not dead!"
+
+It was not till Emily had again opened her soft eyes and assured her
+father that she was not much hurt, that any notice was taken of the very
+unusual fact of Edward Hallett's speaking.
+
+"Father, how did you know I was hurt?"
+
+"He whom we have thought a dumb boy called me, and told me he could not
+find you," said Captain Durbin, looking earnestly, almost sternly at
+Edward, who colored as he felt that eyes he dared not meet were upon
+him. But the gentle, loving Emily took his hand, and said, "Did our good
+Heavenly Father make you speak?--I am so glad--please speak to me!"
+
+Edward could not raise his eyes to hers, but covering his face with his
+other hand, he fell on his knees, saying to her and Captain Durbin, "I
+am afraid it was very wicked, but indeed I couldn't help it. I could
+speak all the time, Emily, but I was afraid of being beaten as I used to
+be, if I seemed like other people--now if they beat me I must bear
+it--better for me to be beaten than to have Emily lie there with no one
+to help her."
+
+"But who is going to beat you? Nobody will beat you--we all love
+you--don't we, father?" cried Emily, bending forward and putting her arm
+around the neck of her _protege_.
+
+"We must hear first whether he is worthy of our love, my dear," said
+Captain Durbin, as he attempted to withdraw his daughter's arm, and to
+make her lie down again--but Edward had seized the little hand and held
+it around his neck, while he exclaimed in the most imploring tones, "Oh,
+sir I let Emily love me--nobody else except my poor mother ever loved
+me. Beat me as much as you please, and I will not say a word, but oh!
+pray, sir! don't tell Emily she must not love me."
+
+"And, father, if he were wicked, you know you told me once that we must
+love the wicked and try to do them good, because our Father in Heaven
+loved us while we were yet sinners," urged Emily.
+
+That gentle voice could not be unheeded, and as Captain Durbin kissed
+her, he laid his hand kindly on the boy's head, saying in more friendly
+tones, "I hope he has not been wicked, but we will hear more about it
+to-morrow--I cannot stay longer with you now, and you must lie still
+just where I have put you, or you may roll out and get hurt. We shall
+have a rough sea most of the night, though, thank God! no danger, for
+the wind had shifted and slackened a little before that great wave swept
+you away!"
+
+"May I not stay by Emily, sir, and tell her what made me not speak? I
+will not let her sit up again."
+
+"Oh, yes! do, father, let him stay till you come down again."
+
+Captain Durbin consented, and when he came down again at midnight from
+the deck, the children had both fallen asleep, but their hands were
+clasped in each other's, and the flushed cheeks and dewy lashes of both
+showed that they had been weeping. The next morning Captain Durbin heard
+the story of the orphan boy. Emily Durbin stood beside him while he told
+it, and he needed the courage which her presence gave him, for his cowed
+spirit could not yet rise to confidence in man. The mingled indignation
+and pity with which Captain Durbin heard the simple but touching
+narrative of his life--the earnest kindness with which, at the
+conclusion, he drew him to his side, and told him that he would be his
+father, and Emily his sister, adding, "God gave you to me, and as His
+gift I will love you and care for you," first taught him that his friend
+Emily was not the one only angel of mercy in our world. As time passed
+on, and Captain Durbin kept well the promise of those words, instructing
+him with care and guarding him with tenderness as well as with fidelity,
+his faith became firm, not only in his fellow-men, but in Him who had
+brought such great good for him out of the darkest evil. His long
+repressed affections sprang into vigorous growth, his intellect expanded
+rapidly in their glow, his eye grew bright, his step elastic, and his
+whole air redolent of a joy which none but those who have suffered as he
+had done can conceive. In the handsome youth who returned two years
+afterwards with Captain Durbin to Boston, and who walked so proudly at
+his side, leading Emily by the hand, few could have recognized the wild
+boy of that western Island.
+
+Such was the transformation which the spirit of love, breathing itself
+through the lips of a little child, had effected. "Verily, of such"
+children "is the kingdom of heaven."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+
+The entertainment of the evening gave its character to our conversation
+on the following morning. It was a conversation too grave for
+introduction into a work intended only to aid in the entertainment of
+festive hours: it commenced with the English "poor-laws," and ended with
+a discussion of the tenure of property in that land, and the wisdom of
+our own republican fathers in abolishing entails--a subject affording a
+fair opportunity to us Americans, to indulge a little in that
+self-glorification which we are accused of loving so well.
+
+"What a curious book would a 'History of Entails' be!" exclaimed Mr.
+Arlington, "how full of the romance of life!"
+
+"Romance!" ejaculated Annie.
+
+"Yes, romance; for under this system, the poor man, whose life seemed
+doomed to one unbroken struggle with fortune, for the necessaries of
+existence, finds himself, by some unexpected casualty, the possessor of
+rank, and of what seems to him boundless wealth."
+
+"Ah, yes!" said I, "but you have given us only the bright side of the
+picture. To make room for this stranger, whose only connection with the
+house of which he has so unexpectedly become the head is probably that
+preserved in genealogical tables, the daughters of the house, or their
+children it may be, reared in luxury, must go forth to a life of
+comparative privation. I met, some years ago, in one of my visits to the
+Far West, a young Englishman, who--but I will read you the story of his
+life, as I wrote it out soon after parting with him."
+
+"Have you a picture of him, Aunt Nancy?" asked Robert Dudley.
+
+"Yes, Robert," I replied with a smile, "but you must have patience, for
+I shall neither show the picture nor tell the story till evening."
+
+When we were assembled in the evening, Annie, with much ceremony, led me
+to the high-backed arm-chair, which she called the Speaker's Chair, and
+placed before me the small travelling desk, in which she knew my
+manuscripts were kept. I unlocked it, and soon found the scroll of which
+I was in search.
+
+"But the picture, Aunt Nancy--where is the picture?" cried the eager
+Robert.
+
+"Here it is," I cried, as I loosened the ribbon with which the
+manuscript was bound together, and produced a small engraving; a fancy
+subject, however, rather than an actual portrait, and of no general
+interest. The print was eagerly caught by Robert, and handed around the
+circle, with exclamations of, "How handsome!" "What an exquisite
+picture!" Mr. Arlington looked at it a moment, then, with a smiling
+glance at me, handed it, without a word of comment, to Col. Donaldson.
+
+"The impertinent puppy!" ejaculated the Colonel, "engrossed with his
+hawk and his hound, and wearing such an insolent air of self-absorption
+in the presence of a lady" (for the artist had introduced a lovely young
+maiden in the scene). "Poor girl!" continued the Colonel; "if she were
+in any way connected with him, I am not surprised that she should look
+so sad and reproachful."
+
+Mr. Arlington's smiling glance was again turned on me; and I met it with
+a hearty laugh.
+
+"Indeed, Aunt Nancy," said the Colonel, who seemed strangely annoyed at
+my laughter, "I think your friend does you little credit, and I can
+only hope that he had some of these lordly airs drubbed out of him at
+the West."
+
+As Col. Donaldson spoke he threw down the engraving which he had held,
+and pushed his chair from the table.
+
+"I assure you, sir," I replied, "my friend has as few lordly airs as it
+is possible to conceive in one born to such lordly circumstances. It was
+not my intention to impose on you that picture as an actual likeness of
+him--though had you ever seen him I might easily have done so, as it
+really resembles him very much in his personal traits."
+
+"Well, I am glad he did not sit for this picture," said Col. Donaldson;
+"now I can listen to your story with some pleasure."
+
+"Thank you; you must first take some reflections suggested to me by the
+incidents I have here narrated. Of the character of these reflections,
+you will form some conception from the title I have given to the tale
+into which I have interwoven them. I have called it
+
+
+"LIFE IN AMERICA."
+
+"Men and Manners in America" was the comprehensive title of a book
+issued some fifteen or twenty years ago, by a gentleman from Scotland,
+to whom, we fear, Americans have never tendered the grateful
+acknowledgments he deserved for his disinterested efforts to teach
+them to eat eggs properly, and to give due time to the mastication of
+their food. This benevolently instructive work was the precursor of a
+host of others on the same topics, and others of a kindred character.
+America has been the standard subject for the trial essays of European
+tyros in philosophy, political economy, and book-making in general.
+Society in America has been presented, it would seem, in all its
+aspects--religious, educational, industrial, political, commercial, and
+fashionable. Our schools and our prisons, our churches and our theatres,
+have been in turn the subject of investigation, of unqualified censure,
+and of scarcely less unqualified laudation.
+
+The subject thus dissected, put together, and dissected again, has
+not been able to restrain some wincing and an occasional outcry,
+when the scalpel has been held by a more than usually unskilful
+hand--demonstrations of sensibility which have occasioned apparently as
+much disapprobation as surprise in the anatomists. We flatter ourselves
+that there is peculiar fitness in the metaphor just used, for the outer
+form only of American life has been touched by these various writers.
+Its spirit, that which gives to it its peculiar organization, has evaded
+them as completely as the soul of man evades the keenest investigations
+of the dissecting room. Even of the seat of the spirit--of the point
+whence it sends forth its subtle influences, giving activity and
+direction to every member--of the HOMES of America, they have little
+real knowledge. The anatomist--the reader will pardon the continuation
+of a figure so illustrative of our meaning--the anatomist knows that not
+only can he never hope to lay his finger upon the principle of life, but
+that ere he can pry into those cells in which its mysterious processes
+are evolved, they must have been dismantled of all that could have
+guided him to any certain deductions respecting its nature and mode of
+action. And seldom is the eye of the stranger, never that of the
+professed bookmaker, suffered to rest upon our homes till they have
+undergone changes that will as completely baffle his penetration. Nor is
+this always designedly. It is from a delicate instinct which shrinks
+from subjecting its most sacred and touching emotions to the rude gaze
+and ruder comment of the world.
+
+We have been led to these observations by certain events of which we
+have lately become informed, and which we would here record, as
+illustrative of some peculiarities of social life in America, and
+especially of the new development of character manifested by women under
+the influence of these peculiarities.
+
+The ringing of bells, the firing of cannon, the huzzaing of the
+assembling multitude on the announcement in London of the victory of
+Waterloo, must have seemed a bitter mockery to many a heart, mad with
+the first sharp agony of bereavement. "The few must suffer that the many
+may rejoice," say the statesman and the warrior while they plan new
+conquests. It may be so, but we have at present to do with the
+sufferings of the few.
+
+On the list of the killed in that battle appeared the name of Horace
+Danforth, Captain in the 41st Regiment of Infantry. It was a name of
+little note, but there was one to whom it was the synonyme of all that
+gave beauty or gladness to life; and ere the bells had ceased to sound,
+or the eager crowd to huzza, her heart was still. With her last
+quivering sigh had mingled the wail of a new-born infant.
+
+Thus was Horace Maitland Danforth ushered into life. He had been born at
+the house of his maternal uncle, Sir Thomas Maitland, and as his mother
+had been wholly dependent on this gentleman, and his father had been a
+soldier of fortune, leaving to his son no heritage but his name, he
+continued there, as carefully reared and tenderly regarded as though he
+had been the heir to Maitland Park and to all its dependencies. Though
+Sir Thomas had, for many years after the birth of his nephew intended to
+marry, it was an intention never executed, and when Horace attained his
+twenty-first birthday, his majority was celebrated as that of his
+uncle's heir, and as such he was presented by Sir Thomas Maitland to his
+assembled tenantry. Soon after this event, the Baronet obtained for his
+nephew a right to the name and arms of Maitland--a measure to which,
+knowing little of his father's family, Horace readily consented. Sir
+Thomas Maitland died suddenly while yet in the prime of life, and was
+succeeded by Sir Horace, then twenty-four years of age. In the
+enjoyments of society, of travel, and of those thousand luxuries, mental
+and physical, which fortune secures, three years passed rapidly away
+with the young, handsome, and accomplished Baronet.
+
+One of the earliest convictions of Horace Maitland's life had been, that
+the refining presence of woman was necessary to the perfection of
+Maitland Park, and when Sir Thomas said to him, "Marry, Horace--do not
+be an old bachelor like your uncle"--though he answered nothing, he
+vowed in the inmost recesses of his heart that it should not be his
+fault if he did not obey the injunction. Yet to the world it seemed
+wholly his own fault that at twenty-seven he had not given to Maitland
+Park a mistress, and even he himself could not attribute his continued
+celibacy to the coldness or cruelty of woman; for, in truth, though he
+had "knelt at many a shrine," he had "laid his heart on none." If hardly
+pressed for his reason, he might have said with Ferdinand,--
+
+                    "For several virtues
+    Have I liked several women; never any
+    With so full soul, but some defect in her
+    Did quarrel with the noblest grace she own'd,
+    And put it to the foil."
+
+He who after the death of his uncle continued to urge Sir Horace most on
+the subject of matrimony, was the one of all the world who might have
+been supposed least desirous to see him enter into its bonds. This was
+Edward Maitland, a distant cousin, somewhat younger than himself, to
+whom he had been attached from his boyhood, and who had been saved by
+his generosity from many of those painful experiences to which a very
+narrow income would otherwise have subjected him. It had more than once
+been suggested to Edward Maitland, that should his cousin die
+unmarried, he might not unreasonably hope to become his heir, as he was
+supposed to be uncontrolled by any entail in the disposal of his
+property, and had few nearer relations than himself, and none with whom
+he maintained such intimate and affectionate intercourse. Nor could
+Edward Maitland fail to perceive that his own value in society was in an
+inverse ratio to the chances of the Baronet's marrying, as a report of
+an actual proposal on the part of the latter had more than once
+occasioned a visible declension in the number and warmth of his
+invitations. These considerations appeared, however, only to stimulate
+the young man's activity in the search of a wife for his cousin. Had he
+been employed by a marriage broker with a prospect of a liberal
+commission, he could hardly have been more indefatigable.
+
+"Well, Horace," exclaimed the younger Maitland, as the two sat loitering
+over a late London breakfast one morning, "how did you like the lady to
+whom I introduced you last evening?"
+
+A smile lighted the eyes of Sir Horace as he replied, "Very much,
+Ned--she is certainly intelligent, and has read and thought more than
+most ladies of her age."
+
+"She will make a capital manager, I am sure."
+
+"And an agreeable companion," added Sir Horace.
+
+"And a good wife--do you not think so, Horace?"
+
+"She doubtless would be to one who could fancy her, Ned; for me her
+style is a little too _prononce_."
+
+"Well, really, Horace, I cannot imagine what you would have. One woman
+is too frivolous--another wants refinement--one is too indolent and
+exacting--and when you can make no other objection, why her style is a
+little too _prononce_"--the last words were given with ludicrous
+imitation of his cousin's tone. "If an angel were to descend from heaven
+for you, I doubt if you would be suited."
+
+"So do I," replied Horace, with a gay laugh at his cousin's evident
+vexation.
+
+And thus did he meet all Edward's well-intended efforts. The power of
+choice had made him fastidious, and his life of luxury and freedom had
+brought him no experiences of the need of another and gentler self as a
+consoler. But that lesson was approaching.
+
+A call from his lawyer for some papers necessary to complete an
+arrangement in which he was much interested, had sent Sir Horace to
+Maitland Park, in the midst of the London season, to explore the yet
+unfathomed recesses of an old _escritoire_ of Sir Thomas. He had been
+gone but two days when Edward received the following note from him,
+written, as it seemed, both in haste and agitation:--
+
+
+"Come to me immediately on the receipt of this, dear Edward. I have
+found here a paper of the utmost importance to you as well as to me.
+Come quickly--take the chariot and travel post.
+
+"Yours,        H. D. MAITLAND."
+
+
+In less than an hour after the reception of this note Edward Maitland
+was on the road: and travelling with the utmost expedition, he arrived
+at Maitland Park just as the day was fading into dusky eve.
+
+"How is Sir Horace?" he asked of the man who admitted him.
+
+"I do not think he seems very well, sir. You will find him in the
+library, Mr. Edward--shall I announce you, sir?"
+
+"No;" and with hurried steps and anxious heart Edward Maitland trod the
+well-known passages leading to the library.
+
+When he entered that room, Sir Horace was standing at one of its windows
+gazing upon the landscape without, and so absorbed was he that he did
+not move at the opening of the door. Edward spoke, and starting, he
+turned towards him a face haggard with some yet untold suffering. He
+advanced to meet his cousin, and with an almost convulsive grasp of the
+hand, said, "I am glad you have come, Edward,"--then, without heeding
+the anxious inquiries addressed to him by Edward, he rang the bell, and
+ordered lights in a tone which caused them to be brought without a
+moment's delay. As soon as the servant who had brought them had left the
+room, Horace resumed: "Now, Edward, here is the paper of which I wrote
+to you; read it at once."
+
+Agitated by his cousin's manner, Edward took the old stained paper from
+him without a word, and seating himself near the lights, began to read,
+while Sir Horace stood just opposite him, eyeing him intently. In a very
+few minutes Edward looked up with a puzzled air and said, "I do not
+understand one word of it. What does it all mean, Horace?"
+
+"It means that you are Sir Edward Maitland--that you are master
+here--and that I am a beggar."
+
+"Horace, you are mad!" exclaimed the young man, starting from his chair,
+with quivering limbs and a face from which every trace of color had
+departed.
+
+Hitherto the tone in which Sir Horace had spoken, the alternate flush
+and pallor on his face, and the shiver that occasionally passed over his
+frame, had shown him to be fearfully excited; but as Edward became
+agitated, all these signs of emotion passed away, and with wonderful
+calmness taking the paper in his hand, he commenced reading that part of
+it which explained its purpose. This was to secure the descent of the
+baronetcy of Maitland and the property attached to it in the male line.
+Having made Edward Maitland comprehend this purpose, Sir Horace drew
+towards him a genealogical table of their family, and showed him that he
+was himself the only living descendant in a direct line through an
+unbroken succession of males from the period at which this entail was
+made.
+
+"And now, Edward," he said in conclusion, "I am prepared to give up
+every thing to you. That you have so long been defrauded of your rights
+has been through ignorance on my part, and equal ignorance, I am
+convinced, on the part of my uncle. You know he paid little attention to
+business, leaving it wholly to his agents. I have often heard him
+express a wish to examine the papers in the old _escritoire_ in which I
+found this deed, saying that they had been sent home by old Harris when
+he gave up his business to his nephew--the old man writing to my uncle,
+that as they consisted of leases that had fallen in, or of antiquated
+deeds, they were no longer of any value except as family records. It was
+a just Providence that led me to that _escritoire_, to search for the
+missing title-deeds of the farm I was about to sell."
+
+Edward Maitland had sunk into his chair from sheer inability to stand,
+and for several minutes after his cousin had ceased speaking, he still
+sat, with his elbows resting on the table before him, and his face
+buried in his clasped hands. At length looking up, he said, "Horace, let
+us burn this paper and forget it."
+
+"Forget! that is impossible, Edward."
+
+"Why?--why not live as we have done? You speak of defrauding me, but
+what have I wanted that you had? Has not your purse been as my own? Your
+home--has it not been mine? It shall be so still. We shall share the
+fortune, and as to the title, you will wear it more gracefully than I."
+
+"Dear Edward! Such proof of your generous affection ought to console me
+for all changes, and it shall. I will confess to you that I have
+suffered, but it is past. My people----" his voice faltered, his chest
+heaved, and turning away he walked more than once across the room before
+he resumed--"they are mine no longer--but you will be kind to them,
+Edward, I know."
+
+"Horace, you will drive me mad!" cried Edward Maitland. "Promise, I
+conjure you, promise me to say nothing more of this."
+
+He threw himself as he spoke into his cousin's arms with an agitation
+which Horace vainly sought to soothe, until he promised "to _speak_" no
+further on this subject at present to any one. Satisfied with this
+promise, and exhausted by the emotions of the last hour, Edward soon
+retired to his own room. It was long before he slept, and had he not
+been in a distant part of the house, he would have heard the hurried
+steps with which, for many an hour after he was left alone, Sir Horace
+Maitland continued to pace the floor of the dimly lighted library. The
+clock was on the stroke of three when he seated himself and began the
+following letter:
+
+
+DEAR EDWARD:--I must go, and at once. I cannot without the loss of
+self-respect continue to play the master here another day, neither can I
+live as a dependent within these walls--no, not for an hour. Do not
+attempt to follow me, for I will not see you. I will write to you as
+soon as I arrive at my point of destination--I know not yet where that
+will be. Feel no anxiety about me. I shall take with me a thousand
+pounds, and will leave an order for Decker to receive from you and hold
+subject to my draft whatever sum may accrue from the sale, at a fair
+valuation, of Sir Thomas Maitland's personal property, which he had an
+undoubted right to will as he pleased, the amount of the mesne rents
+expended by me during the last three years having been deducted
+therefrom. Do not attempt to force favors upon me, Edward--I cannot bear
+them now. Such attempts would only compel me to cut myself loose from
+you and your affection--the one blessing that earth still holds for me.
+
+My trunks have been packed two days, for my first resolve was to go
+from this place and from England. I shall take the chariot in which you
+came down and fresh horses, but I will send them back to you from
+London.
+
+God bless you, Edward. I dare not speak of my feelings to you now, lest
+I should lose the strength and self-command I need so much. God bless
+you.
+
+H. D. MAITLAND.
+
+
+Stealthily did Sir Horace move through the wide halls and ascend the
+lofty stairs of this home of his life, feeling at every step the rushing
+tide of memory conflicting with the sad thought that he was treading
+them for the last time. Having reached his sleeping apartments, he rang
+a bell which he knew would summon his own man. Rapidly as the man moved,
+the time seemed long to him ere the summons was obeyed, and he had given
+the necessary orders to have the carriage prepared and the trunks
+brought down as soon as possible, "and as quietly," he added, "as he did
+not wish to disturb Mr. Edward, who had retired to bed late."
+
+"Will you not take breakfast, sir, before you set out?" asked the man.
+
+"No, John. Let the carriage follow me. I shall walk on. Be quick, and
+make no noise."
+
+A faint streak of light was just beginning to appear in the east, when
+the heretofore master of that lordly mansion went out into a world which
+held for him no other home. ACCIDENT, as short-sighted mortals name
+events controlled by no human will, decided whither he should direct his
+course from London. He had called at his lawyer's--the already mentioned
+"nephew of old Harris"--determined to communicate his discovery to him,
+perhaps with some faint hope of learning that the entail had been in
+some way set aside, before Sir Thomas had ventured to make his sister's
+son his heir. Mr. Decker was not in his rooms, and sitting down to wait
+for him he took up mechanically the morning paper that lay on his table.
+The first thing on which his eye rested was the advertisement of a steam
+packet about to sail from Liverpool for America.
+
+"America; the very place for me. I shall meet no acquaintances there,"
+was the thought which flashed through his mind. Another glance at the
+paper of the day and hour of the packet's sailing, an examination of his
+watch, an impatient look from the window up and down the street, and
+again he mused, "I have not a moment to spare, and if I wait for Decker
+I may be kept for hours, and so lose the packet; and why should I wait?
+Have I not seen the deed? This indecision is folly."
+
+The result of these reflections was a note rapidly written to Mr.
+Decker, stating his discovery of the deed of entail, his consequent
+surrender of all claim to the property to Edward Maitland, and his
+determination to quit England immediately. All arrangements respecting
+the settlement of his claims on the estate, and the claims of the
+present proprietor upon him, he left to Sir Edward and Mr. Decker,
+empowering the latter to receive and retain for his use and subject to
+his order, whatever, on such a settlement, should appertain to him.
+
+This note was left on Mr. Decker's table, and in one hour after leaving
+his office Horace Maitland was advancing to Liverpool with the rapidity
+of steam. The packet waited but the arrival of the train in which he was
+a passenger, to leave the shores of England. With what bitterness he
+watched those receding shores, while memory wrote upon his bare and
+bleeding heart the record of joys identified with them, and fading like
+them for ever from his life, let each imagine for himself, for to such
+emotions no language can do justice.
+
+A voyage across the Atlantic is now too common an event to stay, even
+for a moment, the pen of a narrator. From Boston, Horace--no longer Sir
+Horace--wrote to his cousin as follows--
+
+
+DEAR EDWARD--Here I am among the republicans, with whom I may flatter
+myself I have lost nothing by sinking Sir Horace Maitland into plain Mr.
+Danforth. Such is now my address, assumed not from fear that in this
+distant quarter of the world I shall meet any to whom the name of
+Maitland is familiar but because much of which I do not desire to be
+reminded is associated with that came. I said to you when leaving my
+home, dear Edward, "Do not fear for me." I can now repeat this with
+better reason. The first stunning shock of the change to which I was so
+suddenly subjected has been borne. My past life already seems to me as a
+dream from which I have been rudely but effectually awakened. I am now
+first to begin life in reality.
+
+The accident which determined me to seek these shores was a happy one. I
+cannot well dream here where all around me is active, vigorous life. We
+are accustomed in England to think of the American shores as the Ultima
+Thule in a western direction, but when we reach these shores we find
+that the movement is still west. The daily papers are filled with
+accounts of persons migrating west, and thither am I going. "The world
+is all before me where to choose" the theatre of my new life--my life of
+work---and I would have it far from the blue sea, out of hearing of the
+murmur of the waves that lave my island home. I will go where the wide
+prairies sweep away on every side of the horizon--where every link with
+other lands will be severed, and America below and Heaven above
+constitute my universe. "You will find no society at the West," has been
+said to me. This is another attraction to that region. I would work out
+my destiny in solitude. I desire to travel without company, and have
+made my arrangements accordingly. I have purchased three substantial
+horses for a little more than one hundred pounds, and have engaged a
+shrewd, active lad as groom, valet, and he seems to think, companion,
+at about two pounds per month. A very light carriage, sometimes driven
+by my servant and sometimes by myself, will transport the moderate
+wardrobe which I shall deem it necessary to take with me to the
+outermost verge of civilization and good roads, where leaving carriage
+and wardrobe, or at least all of the latter which may not be borne by a
+led-horse, I shall penetrate still further into the old forests of this
+New World. I long to be alone with "Nature's full, free
+heart"--perchance, there, my own may beat as of yore.
+
+Farewell, dear Edward. You may hear of me next among the Sacs and
+Foxes;--at present address H. Danforth, care of G---- & D----,
+Merchants, ---- ---- street, Boston.
+
+Yours ever, H. DANFORTH.
+
+
+A new external life had indeed opened upon this child of luxury and
+conventional refinement. He whose movements had been chronicled as
+matter of interest to the public, for whose presence the "world" had
+postponed its fetes, might now travel hundreds of miles without
+observation or inquiry. He upon whose steps had waited a crowd of
+obsequious attendants, now found himself with one follower, whose tone
+of independence hardly permitted him to call him servant. In cities,
+where he would still have been surrounded by those conventional
+distinctions of which he had himself been deprived, the sense of a great
+loss would have been ever present with him, and the contrast with the
+past would have made the fairest present to which he could now attain,
+desolate. But there could be no comparison, and therefore no painful
+contrast, between the wild life of the prairies and the
+ultra-civilization of English aristocratic society. In the excitement
+and adventure of the one, he hoped to forget the other. He sought to
+forget--not to be resigned, to acquiesce. His inner life was unchanged.
+He had been a dreamer--a pleasure-seeker--and a dreamer and
+pleasure-seeker he continued, though the dreams and the pleasures must
+be wrought from new materials. To sketch the progress of such a
+character through the shifting scenes of his new existence--to observe
+him in his association with the strong, daring, acute, but uncultivated
+denizens of our frontier States--to stand with sympathizing heart beside
+him as he first entered upon those unpeopled solitudes in whose silence
+God speaks to the soul, is not permitted us at present. This may be the
+work of another day; but now we must pass at once with him from Boston
+to a scene within the confines of Iowa. His carriage had been left
+behind, and for two days he had been riding over a rolling country,
+whose grassy knolls, dotted here and there with clumps of trees, brought
+occasionally to his mind the park scenery of his own land. Early in this
+day he had passed a farm with a comfortable house and substantial
+out-buildings, but no dwelling of man had since presented itself to him,
+though the sun was now low in the western sky. Under ordinary
+circumstances this would have been of little consequence, for he had
+already spent more than one night in the open air without discomfort;
+but his attendant had heard a distant muttering of thunder, and John
+Stacy was not the lad to encounter without murmuring a night of storm
+unsheltered. John's anxiety made him keen-sighted, and he was the first
+to perceive and announce the approach of a rider. We use the neutral
+term _rider_ not without consideration, for he was one in whom a certain
+ease of manner, and even an air of command, contradicted the testimony
+of habiliments made and worn after a fashion recognized nowhere as
+characteristic of the _genus_ gentleman. A courteous inquiry from Horace
+Danforth respecting the nearest place at which a night's shelter might
+be obtained, led to a cordial invitation to him to return with him to
+his own house. It was an invitation not to be disregarded under existing
+circumstances, and it was accepted with evident pleasure both by master
+and man.
+
+Mr. Grahame, for so the new-comer had announced himself, led the way
+back for a short distance over the route just pursued by our travellers,
+and then striking off to the left, rode briskly forward for several
+miles. The light gray clouds which had long been gathering in the
+western sky had deepened into blackness as they proceeded, and flashes
+of lightning were darting across their path, and large drops of rain
+were falling upon them when they neared a house constructed of logs, yet
+bearing some evidence of taste in the grounds around it, as well as in
+its position, which was on the side of a gently sloping hill, looking
+out upon a landscape through which wound a clear and rapid, though
+narrow stream.
+
+"Like good cavaliers, we will see our horses housed first," said Mr.
+Grahame, riding past the main building to one of the out-houses, built
+also of logs, which served as a stable. Here Horace Danforth
+relinquished his tired steed to the care of John Stacy, and Mr. Grahame
+having himself rubbed down his own beautiful animal, and thrown a bundle
+of hay before him, with a slight apology to his visitor for the
+detention, led the way into the house. As they entered the vacant parlor
+a shade of something like dissatisfaction passed over the master's
+countenance, and having seen his guest seated by a huge fireplace, whose
+cheerful blaze of wood a chilly evening made by no means unwelcome, he
+left him alone. He soon returned, however, with a brighter expression,
+which was explained by his saying, "I feared, on finding this room
+empty, that my daughter had been sent for to a sick woman with whom she
+has lately spent several days and nights, and that I could offer you
+only the discomforts of a bachelor's establishment; but I find she is at
+home, and will soon give us supper."
+
+During the absence of his host, our Englishman had looked around with
+increasing surprise at the contents of the parlor. The furniture was of
+the most simple description, yet marked by a certain neatness and
+gracefulness of arrangement, indicative, as he could not but think, of a
+cultivated taste. The same mingling of even rude simplicity of material
+and tasteful arrangement prevailed in the chamber to which his host now
+conducted him, and where the luxury, for such he had learned to regard
+it, of abundance of clear water and clean napkins awaited him. In a few
+minutes after his return to the parlor a door was opened, through which
+he obtained a view of an inner apartment, well lighted, and containing a
+table so spread as to present no slight temptation to a traveller who
+had not broken his fast since the morning meal. At the head of this
+table stood a young woman of graceful form, whom his host introduced to
+him as his daughter, Miss Grahame.
+
+Mary Grahame's clear complexion, glowing with the hue of health, her
+large and soft and dark gray eyes, her abundant glossy black hair, might
+have won from the most fastidious some of that admiration given to
+personal beauty; but in truth Horace Danforth had grown indifferent as
+well as fastidious, and it was not until in after days he had seen the
+complexion glow and the dark eyes kindle with feeling, that he said to
+himself, "She is beautiful!" To the fascination of a peculiarly
+graceful, gentle, yet earnest manner, he was, however, more quickly
+susceptible. During this first evening, the chief emotion excited in his
+mind was surprise at the style of conversation and manner, the
+acquaintance with books and with _les bien-seances_ which marked these
+inhabitants of a log cabin in the western wilds--these denizens of a
+half-savage life.
+
+A day of hard riding had induced such fatigue, that even the rare and
+unexpected pleasure of communication with refined and cultivated minds,
+could not keep Horace Danforth long from his pillow. As he expected to
+set out in the morning very early, he would have made his adieus in
+parting for the night, mingling with them courteous expressions of the
+enjoyment which such society had afforded him after his long abstinence
+from all intellectual converse.
+
+"Believe me," said Mr. Graham, and the sentiment was corroborated by his
+daughter's eyes, "the pleasure has been mutual. Society is the great
+want of our western life. I have been wishing to ask whether your
+business were too urgent to permit you to afford us more of this coveted
+good?"
+
+"I am ashamed to confess," said Horace Danforth, with some
+embarrassment, "that I have no business at present--that I am an
+idler--I verily believe the only one in your country."
+
+"Then will you not give us the pleasure of your company for a longer
+time? A little rest will be no disadvantage either to your horses or
+yourself, and on us you will be conferring a favor which you cannot
+appreciate till you have lived five hundred miles away from
+civilization."
+
+The invitation was accepted as cordially as it was given, to the great
+satisfaction of John Stacy, who had been much pleased with the
+appearance of land in this neighborhood, and wanted time to look about
+him preparatory to purchasing.
+
+Horace Danforth awoke early next morning, and throwing open the shutters
+of the only window in his room, found that a stormy night had been
+succeeded by an unusually brilliant morning. "To brush the dews from off
+the upland lawn" had not been a habit of his past life; but the cool
+fresh air, the spicy perfumes which it wafted to him, and the brightness
+and verdure of the whole landscape, proved now more inviting than his
+pillow; and dressing himself hastily, he descended the clean but rude
+and uncarpeted stairs as gently as possible, lest he should arouse Miss
+Grahame from her slumbers. He found the front door open, showing that he
+was not the first of the household to go abroad that day. As he stepped
+out upon the lawn, he discovered that the parlor windows were also
+open, and a familiar air, hummed in low, suppressed tones, caused him
+to look through them as he passed. Could he believe his eyes? Was that
+neatest and prettiest of all housemaids, who, moving with light and even
+graceful steps, was yet busied in the very homely task of dusting and
+arranging the furniture in the parlor--was she indeed the same Miss
+Grahame who had last evening charmed him by her lady-like deportment and
+intelligent conversation? Yes, the very same; for though the glossy
+black braids were covered by a gay colored handkerchief wound around her
+head _a la Turque_, there was the same wide forehead and well-defined
+brows; the same soft dark gray eyes; the same slightly aquiline nose and
+smiling mouth. Nor was the conversation of last evening more opposed, in
+his imagination, to her present employment, than the evident taste and
+feeling with which she was now singing that most beautiful hymn of the
+Irish poet:--
+
+    "O God! Thou art the life and light
+    Of all this wondrous world I see."
+
+Listening and gazing, wondering and comparing, he had well nigh
+forgotten himself, when the lady of the mansion turning suddenly to the
+window, raised her head. Their eyes met! The color which rushed quickly
+to her very temples, recalled him to himself, and bowing with certainly
+not less embarrassment than she evinced, he walked rapidly on. He had
+not proceeded far, however, when he saw his host approaching from an
+opposite direction. As Mr. Grahame had already spent more than an hour
+in his fields, sharing as well as directing the labors of his men, he
+expressed no surprise at meeting his guest abroad. After a cordial
+greeting, and a few general observations on the weather and scenery had
+been exchanged, Mr. Grahame, glancing up at the sun, which had now risen
+considerably above a distant wood, said, "I am sorry to interrupt your
+walk, but my morning's work has made me by no means indifferent to my
+breakfast, and I think that Mary's coffee and biscuits are about this
+time done to a turn."
+
+A few minutes brought them back to the house, and into the parlor from
+which Mary Grahame had disappeared, leaving behind her, in its neat and
+tasteful arrangement, and in the fresh flowers that adorned the table
+and mantelpiece, evidence of her early presence. The gentlemen were soon
+summoned to breakfast.
+
+It may have been that his early rising had given to Horace Danforth an
+unusual appetite; but certain it is that no breakfast of which he had
+ever partaken seemed to him half so inviting as this. And yet, in truth,
+it was simple enough; toast, crisp and brown, warm, light biscuits,
+fresh eggs, good butter, excellent coffee, and rich cream were all it
+offered. Mary Grahame presided, and speaking little herself, listened to
+her father and Horace, while they discussed the different
+characteristics of English or European and American society, with a
+pleased and intelligent countenance. Some observations from him drew
+from Mr. Grahame the following reply:--
+
+"There is one feature of American society upon which I think no
+foreigner has remarked, or if he have, it has been so cursorily as
+plainly to show that he was far from appreciating its importance: I mean
+the fact that here the thinker is also the worker. In England and the
+European States, the working class is distinct from the consumers, and
+there must be almost as great a contrast in the intellectual as in the
+physical condition of the two. All the refinement, the cultivation, must
+remain with those who have leisure and fortune--as a class, I mean, for
+individuals will of course be found, who, in spite of all disadvantages,
+will rise to the highest position. But here, in America, there are no
+idlers. Here, with few if any exceptions, all must be, in some way,
+workers, and all may be thinkers. We attain thus to a republic of
+mind."
+
+"Do you not fear that the result of this will be to check the
+development of individual greatness; that as you have no king in the
+State, so you will have no king in literature?"
+
+"Even were this so, it would remain a question whether the great
+increase of general intelligence would not more than compensate the
+evil."
+
+"Can many Polloks repay us for one Milton--many Drydens for one
+Shakspeare?"
+
+"You take extreme cases; besides, I only admitted your supposition to
+show that I could produce a set-off to the disadvantage. I do not
+believe that the necessity for labor of some sort will prevent a truly
+great mind from achieving for itself the highest distinction. I think
+the history of such minds proves that it will rather serve as a stimulus
+to their powers."
+
+Horace Danforth was silent, and after a moment's pause, Mr. Grahame
+resumed.
+
+"In this union of the working and the thinking classes, the refinements
+of life, those things which adorn, and beautify it, take their true
+place as consolers and soothers of the care-worn and toil-wearied mind.
+No Italian opera can give such delight to the sated man of pleasure as
+the tired laborer feels in listening to the evening song with which some
+loved one, in his home, sings him to repose.
+
+"You speak _con amore_" said Horace Danforth, smiling at his host's
+fervor.
+
+"I do. Had I been excluded from the refinements of social life, I should
+long since have fainted and grown weary of my toil here. I felt this
+when compelled to relinquish my daughter's society for two years, that
+she might have the advantage of instruction in those branches of a
+womanly education in which I could give her no aid."
+
+"And having spent two years in the more cultivated East, did Miss
+Grahame return willingly to her home in the wilderness?"
+
+This question was addressed to Mary Grahame herself, and she answered
+simply, "My father was here."
+
+"You acknowledge, then, that could your father have been with you, you
+would have preferred remaining at the East?"
+
+"Oh no! I was fifteen when my father sent me from home, and they who
+have enjoyed the free life of the prairies so long, seldom love
+cities."
+
+"But the ease, the freedom from labor, which is enjoyed in a more
+advanced stage of society, the power to devote yourself to pursuits
+agreeable to your taste--did you not regret these?"
+
+"Permit me to put your question into plainer language," interposed Mr.
+Grahame. "Mr. Danforth would ask, Mary, whether you would not prefer to
+live where you would not be compelled to degrade your mind----"
+
+"No, no, I protest against the degradation," exclaimed Mr. Danforth.
+
+"To degrade your mind," pursued Mr. Grahame, answering the interruption
+only by a smile, "by exercising it on such homely things as brewing
+coffee and baking cakes, or to soil your fair hands with brooms and
+dusters."
+
+"For the soil of the hands we have sparkling rills, and for the
+degradation of the mind, I, like Mr. Danforth, protest against it."
+
+"But how can you make your protest good?"
+
+"You have taught me that there is no degradation in labor, pursued for
+fair and right ends, and that where the end is noble, the labor becomes
+ennobling."
+
+"But what noble ends can be alleged for the drudgery of domestic life? I
+am translating your looks into language," said Mr. Grahame, turning
+playfully to his guest; "correct me if I do not read them rightly."
+
+"If I say you do, I fear Miss Grahame will think them very impertinent
+looks."
+
+"I shall not complain of them while I can reply to them so easily," said
+Mary gayly. "He who knows how much a well-ordered household contributes
+to the cultivation of domestic virtues and family affections, will not
+think a woman degraded who sacrifices somewhat of her tastes and
+pleasures to the deeper happiness of procuring such advantages for those
+she loves."
+
+"But is not that state of society preferable, in which, without her
+personal interference, by the employment of those who have no higher
+tastes, she may accomplish the same object?"
+
+"That question proves that you do not, like my father, desire to see the
+working and the thinking classes united. You seem to propose that the
+first shall ever remain our hewers of wood and drawers of water."
+
+"Is it not a fact that there have been, are, and always will be those in
+the world who are fitted for no other position?"
+
+"That there are and always have been such persons, I acknowledge; but
+when labor ceases to be degrading, because it is partaken by all, may we
+not hope that new aspirations will be awakened in the laborer--that he
+will elevate himself in the scale of being when he feels elevation
+possible?"
+
+Mary Grahame spoke with generous enthusiasm, yet with a modest
+gentleness which made Horace Danforth desire to continue the argument.
+
+"Admitting all this," he said, "it does not answer my question, which
+was, whether you did not prefer that state of society in which you were
+able to avail yourself of the services of such a class?"
+
+"There are moments, doubtless, when indolence would plead for such
+self-indulgence; but I should be mortified, indeed, where this the
+prevailing temper of my mind."
+
+"Pardon me if I say that I do not see how it can be otherwise--how a
+lady of Miss Grahame's refinement and taste can be pleased with the
+employments, for instance, to which Mr. Grahame just now referred."
+
+"Not pleased with them in themselves, but she may accept them, may she
+not, as a necessary part of a great object to which she has devoted
+herself?"
+
+"And this object?--but, forgive me. The interest you have awakened in
+the subject, and your kindness in answering my questions, make me an
+encroacher, I fear," he added, as he marked the heightened color with
+which Mary glanced at her father as he paused for her answer.
+
+"Not at all; but I speak in presence of my master, and will refer you to
+him," she replied, with another smiling glance at her father.
+
+"You see," said Mr. Grahame, "that even in these wilds, 'the world's
+dread laugh' retains its power. Mary, I see, is afraid of being called a
+female Quixote, and even I find myself disposed to win you to some
+interest in my object, before I avow it. This I think I can best do by a
+sketch of the circumstances which led to its adoption. I will give you
+such a sketch, therefore, if you will promise to acquit me of egotism in
+doing so."
+
+"That I will readily do. I shall be delighted to hear it."
+
+"You shall have it, but not now; for I see, by certain cabalistic signs,
+known only to the initiated, that Mary is about to leave us for some of
+those same degrading employments, and if you will take a ride with me, I
+will relieve you from all danger of contact with them, and will, at the
+same time, show you something of our neighborhood."
+
+The proposal was of course accepted. The ride embraced a circuit of ten
+miles, in which they passed only two houses. The first of these was
+built with an apparent regard to convenience and comfort, and even some
+effort at adornment, as manifested in the climbing plants with which the
+windows were draperied, and the flowers which adorned the little court
+in front. Mr. Grahame stopped before the gateway of this court, and a
+woman of coarse, rough exterior, though scrupulously clean, came out to
+speak to him, and to urge his alighting and entering the house with his
+friend. This Mr. Grahame declined; he had stopped only to inquire after
+a sick child, and to express a hope that her husband's hay had turned
+out well.
+
+"Dreadful fine," was her reply to the last. "I'm sure we be much
+obleeged to you for the seed, and for tellin' Jim how to plant it He
+never had sich hay before."
+
+"I'm glad to hear it. Where is Lucy?"
+
+"Oh, she's off to school. Tell Miss Mary she's gittin' to be 'most as
+grand a reader as she be. And yet the child's willin' enough to work,
+for all."
+
+As the gentlemen rode on, after this interview, Mr. Grahame said, "That
+last speech expressed one of the greatest difficulties against which we
+had to contend in our efforts to induce our neighbors to give to their
+children some of the advantages of education. They were afraid 'larnin'
+would make them lazy.' They were of your opinion, that the thinker and
+the worker must remain of different classes."
+
+"I was much surprised to hear that woman speak of a school. I should not
+think the teacher could find his situation very profitable."
+
+"He is one who has regard to a higher reward than any earthly one. He is
+a self-denying Christian missionary, whom I induced to settle in our
+neighborhood. He preaches on the Sabbath, in a little church about two
+miles from my house, to a congregation of about twenty adults, and twice
+that number of children; and during the week, he keeps a school which is
+well attended in the summer. Some of his earlier pupils are already
+showing, by their more useful and more happy lives, the importance of
+the schoolmaster's work in the elevation of a people."
+
+The next dwelling they approached was very small and mean-looking. It
+seemed to Horace Danforth to contain only one apartment, warmed by an
+ill-constructed clay chimney, and lighted by one small, square window.
+That window, however, was not only sashed and glazed, but shaded by a
+plain muslin curtain.
+
+"Here," said Mr. Grahame, "lives one of those pupils of whom I spoke
+just now. He has commenced life with nothing but the plot of ground you
+see, and having a wife to support, he must work hard, yet already he is
+aiming at something more than the supply of merely physical wants; and I
+doubt not he will, should he live long enough, become the intelligent
+and wealthy father of a well-educated family."
+
+They were approaching the house as Mr. Grahame spoke. Near it was a
+small field, in which a man was hoeing.
+
+"How is your wife, Martin?" asked Mr. Grahame.
+
+"Oh, thank you, sir, she is quite smart. She's been getting better ever
+since the night Miss Mary sat up with her last. We say she always brings
+good luck."
+
+"And how are your potatoes?"
+
+"How could they help but be good, sir, with such grand seed as you gave
+me? Tell Miss Mary, if you please, sir, that the rose-tree is growing
+finely, and that as soon as I can get time to put up the fence, Sally is
+to have the flower-garden she talked about."
+
+"I am glad to hear it, Martin; if you are brisk you may have some
+flowers yet before frost. I will bring you some seeds the next time I
+come."
+
+"Do you procure your seeds from the East, or is it the result of your
+superior cultivation, that you are able thus to supply your neighbors?"
+asked Horace Danforth of Mr. Grahame, as they rode on.
+
+"The potatoes were from my own field, raised from the seed two years
+ago. The grass and flower seeds were from my agent at the East. These
+little favors win for my daughter and myself considerable influence over
+our neighbors, and thus facilitate our attainment of the object for
+which we have pitched our tent in the wilderness, and accepted those
+labors which you justly regard as distasteful in themselves."
+
+The return home of Mr. Grahame and his visitor, their dinner and
+afternoon engagements, offer nothing worthy of our notice. It was not
+till the labors of the day had been concluded, and the little party were
+gathered again before a cheerful fire in the parlor, that the subject of
+the morning's conversation was resumed. As Mary entered from the
+supper-room, bringing with her a little basket of needle-work, Horace
+Danforth asked if he might not now hope to receive the promised sketch.
+
+"I will give it you with pleasure when I have had my evening song from
+Mary," said Mr. Grahame.
+
+Opening the piano for his young hostess, Horace Danforth stood beside
+her as she sang, but he forgot to turn the leaves of the music before
+her as he listened once again to a rich and cultivated voice,
+accompanied by a fine instrument, touched by a skilful hand. As the
+sweet and well-remembered strains fell on his ear, he closed his eyes
+and gave the reins to fancy. The loved and lost gathered around him, and
+it was with a strange, dream-like feeling that, as the sweet sound
+ceased, and Mary arose from the piano, he opened his eyes and looked
+upon the rough walls and simple furniture of his present abode.
+
+"It is now nearly nineteen years," began Mr. Grahame, when his daughter
+and guest had resumed their seats near him, "since, crushed in spirit, I
+turned from the grave in which I had laid my chief earthly blessing, to
+wander 'any where, any where out of that world' which had a few weeks
+before been bright and joyous to me, but which I was now ready to
+pronounce a desolate waste. The desire to avoid society made me turn
+westward, and nearly one hundred miles east of our present residence I
+found myself in the midst of a people without churches, without schools,
+rude in appearance and in manners. Absorbed in the destruction of my own
+selfish happiness, I might have passed from among them without knowing
+that disease was adding its pangs to those inflicted by want, ignorance,
+and superstition, had not a mother in the agony of parting from her
+first-born, looking hither and thither for help, turned her eyes
+entreatingly upon the stranger. I had once studied medicine, though
+regarding the profession, as our young men too often do, merely as a
+means of personal aggrandizement, and having received just at the
+completion of my studies an accession of fortune, which removed all
+pecuniary necessity to exertion on my part, I had never practised it,
+nor indeed obtained the diploma necessary to its practice. Now, however,
+I endeavored to make myself master of the peculiar features of the
+epidemic under which the child was suffering, and with the aid of a
+small store of medicines which my good sister had insisted on my taking
+with me, and a rigid enforcement of some of the simplest rules of diet
+and regimen, I had the happiness of seeing the child in a few days out
+of danger, and of receiving the mother's rapturous thanks. That moment,
+gave me the first gleam of happiness I had known for months, and
+disposed me to listen to the entreaties of the poor creatures who came
+from far and near to entreat the aid of the Doctor, as they persisted in
+calling me, notwithstanding my repeated assurances that I had no right
+to the title. I spent weeks in that neighborhood, and there I was born
+to a new life. Till that time I had lived to myself, and when that in
+which I had centered my earthly joy was snatched from me by death, I had
+felt that life had nothing left for me; but now I saw that while there
+were sentient beings in the universe to serve, and a glorious and ever
+blessed Father presiding over that universe and smiling on such service,
+life could not be divested of joy. Under the influence of such views my
+plans for the future were formed, nor have I ever seen reason to change
+or to regret them. Every where the Christian religion teaches the same
+precepts, but not every where is it equally easy to see the way in which
+those precepts may be obeyed; every where it is true, as a distinguished
+writer of your own land has said, 'Blessed is the man who has found his
+work--let him seek no other blessedness;' but not every where is it
+equally easy to see where our work lies. Here, in America, the
+partition-walls which stand elsewhere as a remnant of the old feudalism,
+have been broken down; every man is irresistibly pressed into contact
+with his neighbors--he cannot shut his eyes to their wants--he cannot
+stop his ears against their cries. In America, too, every man, as I have
+already said, must be a worker--or, if he live an idler, it must be on
+that which his father gained by the sweat of his brow, and he leaves his
+children to enslaving toil, or more enslaving dependence. Here the man
+of pleasure, the idler of either sex, is a foreign exotic which finds no
+nourishment in our soil, no shelter from our institutions--which is out
+of harmony with our social life, and must ever be marked by the innate
+vulgarity of unsustained pretension. Therefore it is comparatively easy
+for us to hold out the hand of love to our brethren, sinking and
+suffering at our very side, and to teach them that there is no natural
+inalienable connection between labor and coarseness, ignorance and
+servility; that man, though compelled to win his bread by the sweat of
+his brow, may still enjoy all those graceful amenities of which woman
+was the type in Paradise and is the promoter here; that the light of
+knowledge and the divine light of faith may still cheer him in his
+pursuits and guide him to his rest. It seems to me that to bring out
+these principles fairly to the world's perception, is the mission to
+which America has been especially appointed--is that for which Americans
+should live; and to this I have accordingly devoted myself. For this I
+purchased my present property--for this I determined, while allowing
+myself and my daughter all the comforts of life, to dispense with many
+of those luxuries to which my fortune might have seemed to entitle us,
+lest I should separate myself too far from those I would aid. Here I
+have spent seventeen years of life, happy in my work, and happier in the
+conviction that it has not been in vain."
+
+As Mr. Grahame paused, Horace Danforth turned to Mary Grahame. Her eyes
+were fixed upon him. They seemed to challenge his admiration for her
+father, in whose hand her own was clasped, as though she would thus
+intimate the perfect accordance of her feelings with his.
+
+"And this, then," he said to her, "is your object?"
+
+"It is."
+
+"An object to which you were devoted by your father in your infancy?"
+
+"And which I have since adopted on my own intelligent conviction," said
+Mary, earnestly, losing all timidity in a glow of that generous
+enthusiasm which sits so gracefully on a gentle woman.
+
+There was silence in the little circle--silence with all; with one,
+thought was rapidly passing down the long vista of the past, and
+pointing the awakened mind to the fact that elsewhere than in America
+was there ignorance to be enlightened and want to be relieved--that not
+here only did Christianity teach that man should live not unto himself
+alone, and that he should love his neighbor as himself.
+
+The thoughts and feelings aroused on that evening colored the whole
+future destiny of Horace Danforth. Ere another day had passed, he had
+confided to his host so much of his history as proved him to be an
+aimless and almost unconnected wanderer on the earth, with a prospect
+of a fortune which, unequal to the demands of a man of fashion in
+England, would give to a _worker_ in America great influence for good or
+for evil--as the personal property of Sir Thomas Maitland could not, as
+Horace Danforth was well aware, be valued at less than 50,000 dollars.
+With that rapid decision which had ever marked his movements, the young
+Englishman determined to purchase land in the neighborhood of Mr.
+Grahame, there to rear his future hope, and to devote his life to the
+like noble purposes. The land was purchased, the site for the house was
+selected and marked out--but the house was never built--for ere that had
+been accomplished Horace Danforth discovered that the companionship of a
+cultivated woman was essential to his views of "Life in America," and
+that Mary Grahame was exactly the embodiment of that youthful vision
+which he had sought in vain elsewhere; for she united the delicacy and
+refined grace, with the intelligent mind, the active affections and
+energetic will, which were necessary at once to please his fancy and
+satisfy his heart Mary Grahame could not consent to leave her father to
+a lonely home, but yet she could not deny that it would be a sad home to
+her if deprived of the society of him whose intelligent and varied
+converse and manly tenderness had lately formed the chief charm of her
+existence. There was only one way of reconciling these conflicting
+claims. Horace Danforth must live with Mr. Grahame; and so he did,
+having first obtained that gentleman's permission to enlarge his house,
+and to furnish it with some of those inventions by which art has so
+greatly lightened domestic occupation, and which had been made familiar
+to him by his life abroad.
+
+Six months had been spent in this abode--six months of an existence of
+joy and love, untroubled as it could be to those who were yet dwellers
+upon earth--six months in which the fastidious and world-wearied man
+learned the secret of true peace in a life devoted to useful and
+benevolent objects--when a most unexpected visitor arrived in the person
+of Sir Edward Maitland--no, not Sir Edward. He came to announce that to
+this title he had no right. That he had remained himself, and suffered
+his cousin to remain so long in ignorance on this point, had been the
+result of no want of effort to arrive at the truth, still less of any
+lingering love of the honors forced upon him. He had never assumed the
+title, nor suffered the secret of his supposed change of circumstances
+to be known beyond himself and the lawyer to whom his cousin Horace had
+revealed it. This lawyer, it may be remembered, had lately succeeded in
+the care of the Maitland estate to an uncle, who had been compelled by
+the infirmities of advancing age to retire from business. The old man
+was absent from England when Horace Danforth left it, and it was not
+till his return that full satisfaction on the subject had been obtained,
+as it was judged unwise by Mr. Decker to awaken public attention by
+investigations which his uncle's return would probably render
+unnecessary. When he did return, and the subject was cautiously unfolded
+to him, he spent many minutes in _pishing_ and _pshawing_ at the folly
+and impetuosity of young Baronets, who, knowing nothing of the tenure on
+which they hold their estates, cannot at least wait till they consult
+wiser people before they throw them away. The entail of nearly two
+centuries ago had, it seems, been set aside in little more than one, by
+an improvident father and son, who had in fact greatly diminished the
+very fine property so entailed, though most of it had been since
+recovered by the care of their successors. The intelligence thus
+conveyed to him who was now once more Sir Horace Danforth Maitland, was
+of mingled sweet and bitter. He could not be insensible to the joy of
+returning to the home of his childhood and the people among whom he had
+grown to manhood, yet neither could he leave, without tender regrets,
+that in which he had first learned to love, and to live a true, a
+noble, and a happy life.
+
+When Mary was first saluted as Lady Maitland by Edward, she turned a
+glance of inquiry upon her husband, and then upon her father, for both
+were present by previous arrangement; and as she read a confirmation of
+the fact in their smiling faces, the color faded from hers, and after a
+moment's vain effort to contend against her painful emotion, she burst
+into tears.
+
+"Your father has promised to spend his life with us, dearest," said Sir
+Horace Maitland, as he threw his arm around her and drew her to his
+side.
+
+"But this dear home," sobbed Mary; "this people, for whom and with whom
+we have lived so happily."
+
+"All that made this home dear, my daughter, you will take with you to
+another home."
+
+"And there, too," interposed Sir Horace, "my Mary will find a people to
+enlighten and to bless, over whom her influence will be unbounded, and
+to whom she will prove an angel of consolation."
+
+"And can you carry your American life to your English home?" she asked
+of her husband, smiling through her tears.
+
+"As much of it as is independent of outward circumstances, Mary--its
+spirit, its aims; for they belong to a Christian life, and that I hope,
+by God's blessing, to live henceforth, wherever I may be."
+
+"And what will become of all our projected improvements here?" she
+inquired of her father.
+
+"I shall not leave this place myself, Mary, till I can find some one
+like-minded, who will take our place and do our work. To such a man I
+will sell the property on such terms as he can afford, or if he cannot
+buy, he shall farm it for me."
+
+This last was the arrangement made with one whom Mr. Grahame had known
+in early life, and who had always been distinguished by true Christian
+uprightness and benevolence The terms offered by Mr. Grahame to this
+gentleman were such, that the conscientious and excellent agent became
+in a few years the proprietor and under his fostering care, all those
+plans for the intellectual and moral improvement of the neighborhood
+which had been so happily commenced, were matured and perfected.
+
+It was nearly a year after the departure of his children before Mr.
+Grahame was able to join them at Maitland Park. With his arrival Mary
+felt that her cup of joy was full. It had been with a trembling heart
+that she assumed the brilliant position to which Providence had
+conducted her; not that she feared the judgment of man: her fear had
+been lest in the midst of abundance she should forget the hand that fed
+her--lest amidst the fascinations of an intellectual and polished
+society, she should forget the thick darkness which covered so many
+immortal minds around her. But already she had cast aside this unworthy
+fear, unworthy of Him in whom is the Christian's strength.
+
+The early dream of the Proprietor of Maitland Park is fulfilled. The
+softening and refining presence of woman diffuses a new charm over its
+social life, and while his Mary is to his tenantry what he himself
+predicted, an angel of consolation, she is to him a faithful co-worker
+in all that may advance the reign of peace and righteousness, of
+intelligence and joy, throughout the world.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+
+A Sabbath in the country, with a Sabbath quiet in the air, and a
+cheerful sunlight beaming like the smile of Heaven on the earth--how
+beautiful it is! Donaldson Manor is only a short walk from the church
+whose white spire gleams up amidst the dark grove of pines on our left;
+at least, it is only a short walk in summer, when we can approach it
+through the flowery lanes which separate Col. Donaldson's fields from
+those of his next neighbor, Mr. Manly. Now, however, the walk is
+impracticable, and all the sleighs were yesterday morning in
+requisition, to transport the family and their visitors to their place
+of worship. I was a little afraid that the merry music of the
+sleigh-bells and the rapid drive through the clear air might make our
+young people's blood dance too briskly--that they would be unable to
+preserve that sobriety of manner becoming those who are about
+professedly to engage in the worship of Him who inhabiteth Eternity. I
+was gratified, however, to perceive that they all had good feeling or
+good taste enough to preserve, throughout their drive and the services
+which followed it, a quiet and reverent demeanor. It may seem strange to
+some, that I should characterize this as a possible effect of "good
+taste;" but in my opinion, he who does not pay the tribute at least of
+outward respect to this holy day, is incapable not only of that high,
+spiritual communion which brings man near to his Creator, but of that
+tender sympathy which binds him to his fellow-creatures, or even of
+that poetic taste which would place his soul in harmony with external
+nature. Let it not be thought that I would have this day of blessing to
+the world regarded with a cynical severity, or that the quietness and
+the reverence of which I speak are at all akin to sadness. Were not
+cheerfulness, in my opinion, a part of godliness, I should say of it as
+some one has said of cleanliness, that it is next to godliness. Like my
+favorite, Mrs. Elizabeth Barrett Browning,
+
+    "I think we are too ready with complaint
+    In this fair world of God's;"
+
+and like her, I would utter to all the exhortation,
+
+          "Let us leave the shame and sin
+    Of taking vainly, in a plaintive mood,
+    The holy name of Grief!--holy herein,
+    That, by the grief of One, came all our good."
+
+But cheerfulness, so far from being incompatible with, seems to me
+inseparable from that true worship which is the best source of the
+Sabbath seriousness I am advocating.
+
+The remarks of the preacher were quite in unison with these thoughts,
+and pleased me so much that, were it admissible, I should be delighted
+to dignify my pages with them. By a few vivid touches, in language
+simple, yet beautiful, he sketched for us the first Sabbath amidst the
+living springs and fadeless bloom and verdant shades of Paradise, when
+sinless man communed with his Maker and his Father, not through the poor
+symbols of a ceremonial worship, but face to face, as a man talketh with
+his friend. But all I would say of the Sabbath has been said a thousand
+times better than I could say it, by good George Herbert, whose words I
+am sure I need not apologize for introducing here.
+
+
+SUNDAY.
+
+      O day most calm, most bright!
+    The fruit of this, the next world's bud;
+    Th' indorsement of supreme delight,
+    Writ by a Friend, and with His blood;
+    The couch of time; care's balm and bay:--
+    The week were dark, but for thy light;
+      Thy torch doth show the way.
+
+      The other days and thou
+    Make up one man; whose face _thou_ art,
+    Knocking at heaven with thy brow;
+    The worky days are the back-part;
+    The burden of the week lies there,
+    Making the whole to stoop and bow,
+      Till thy release appear.
+
+      Man hath straight forward gone
+    To endless death. But thou dost pull
+    And turn us round, to look on One,
+    Whom, if we were not very dull,
+    We could not choose but look on still;
+    Since there is no place so alone,
+      The which He doth not fill.
+
+      Sundays the pillars are
+    On which heaven's palace arched lies:
+    The other days fill up the spare
+    And hollow room with vanities.
+    They are the fruitful bed and borders,
+    In God's rich garden; that is bare,
+      Which parts their ranks and orders.
+
+      The Sundays of man's life,
+    Threaded together on time's string,
+    Make bracelets to adorn the wife
+    Of the eternal, glorious King.
+    On Sunday, heaven's gate stands ope;
+    Blessings are plentiful and rife!
+      More plentiful than hope.
+
+      This day my Saviour rose,
+    And did inclose this light for His:
+    That, as each beast his manger knows,
+    Man might not of his fodder miss.
+    Christ hath took in this piece of ground,
+    And made a garden there, for those
+      Who want herbs for their wound.
+
+      The Rest of our creation,
+    Our great Redeemer did remove,
+    With the same shake which, at his passion,
+    Did th' earth, and all things with it, move.
+    As Samson bore the doors away,
+    Christ's hand's, though nailed, wrought our salvation,
+      And did unhinge that day.
+
+      The brightness of that day
+    We sullied, by our foul offence;
+    Wherefore that robe we cast away,
+    Having a new at His expense,
+    Whose drops of blood paid the full price
+    That was required, to make us gay,
+      And fit for paradise.
+
+      Thou art a day of mirth:
+    And, where the week-days trail on ground,
+    Thy flight is higher, as thy birth.
+    Oh, let me take thee at the bound,
+    Leaping with thee from seven to seven;
+    Till that we both, being toss'd from earth,
+      Fly hand in hand to Heaven!
+
+
+It is the custom at Donaldson Manor to close the Sabbath evening with
+sacred music. Annie, at her father's request, played while we all sang
+his favorite evening hymn, which I here transcribe.
+
+
+EVENING HYMN.
+
+    Father! by Thy love and power,
+    Comes again the evening hour;
+    Light hath vanish'd, labors cease,
+    Weary creatures rest, in peace.
+    Those, whose genial dews distil
+      On the lowliest weed that grows
+    Father! guard our couch from ill,
+      Lull thy creatures to repose.
+    We to Thee ourselves resign,
+    Let our latest thoughts be Thine.
+
+    Saviour! to thy Father bear
+    This our feeble evening prayer;
+    Thou hast seen how oft to-day
+    We, like sheep, have gone astray;
+    Worldly thoughts and thoughts of pride,
+      Wishes to Thy cross untrue,
+    Secret faults and undescried
+      Meet Thy spirit-piercing view.
+    Blessed Saviour! yet, through Thee,
+    Pray that these may pardon'd be.
+
+    Holy Spirit! Breath of Balm!
+    Breathe on us in evening's calm.
+    Yet awhile before we sleep,
+    We with Thee will vigils keep.
+    Lead us on our sins to muse,
+      Give us truest penitence,
+    Then the love of God infuse,
+      Kindling humblest confidence.
+    Melt our spirits, mould our will,
+    Soften, strengthen, comfort, still.
+
+    Blessed Trinity! be near
+    Through the hours of darkness drear.
+    When the help of man is far
+    Ye more clearly present are.
+    Father, Son, and Holy Ghost!
+      Watch o'er our defenceless heads,
+    Let your angels' guardian host
+      Keep all evil from our beds,
+    Till the flood of morning rays
+    Wake as to a song of praise.[1]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+
+Mr. Arlington is a gem of the first water. He reveals every day some new
+trait of interest or agreeableness. I saw immediately that he was a man
+of fine taste; I have since learned to respect him as a man of enlarged
+intellect and earnest feeling; and now I am just beginning to discover
+that he is master of all those _agremens_ which constitute the charm of
+general society, and that he might become the "glass of fashion," if he
+had not a mind elevated too far above such a petty ambition. This last
+observation has been called forth by mere trifles, yet trifles so
+prettily shown, with such ease and grace, as to justify the conclusion.
+He is apt at illustration and application, and has a fine memory, stored
+brimfull of entertaining anecdotes, snatches of poetry, and those
+thousand nothings which tell for so much in society, and which it is so
+pleasant to find combined with much else that is valuable. A few
+evenings since, he kept Annie and me in the library, with his agreeable
+chat, till so late an hour, that Col. Donaldson, who is the least bit of
+a martinet in his own family, gave some very intelligible hints to us
+the next morning, at breakfast, on the value of early hours. With a
+readiness and grace which I never saw surpassed, Mr. Arlington turned to
+us with the exquisite apology of the poet for a like fault,
+
+    "I stay'd too late; forgive the crime;
+      Unheeded flew the hours.
+    Unnoted falls the foot of time,
+      Which only treads on flowers."
+
+This evening again, as he placed a candle-screen before Annie, who,
+having a headache, found the light oppressive, he said with a graceful
+mixture of play and earnest, impossible to describe,
+
+    "Ah, lady! if that taper's blaze
+    Requires a screen to blunt its rays,
+    What screen, not form'd by art divine,
+    Shall shield us from those orbs of thine?
+
+    "But oh! let nothing intervene
+    Our hearts and those bright suns between;
+    'Tis bliss, like the bewilder'd fly
+    To flutter round, though sure to die."
+
+As the others were engaged in very earnest conversation at the time, and
+I was reading, he probably expected to be heard only by her to whom he
+addressed himself; but a little romance, such as that of Annie and Mr.
+Arlington, acted before me, interests me far more than any book, and I
+brought a bright blush to Annie's cheek and a conscious smile to his
+lip, by asking, "Where did you find those very apposite lines? I do not
+remember to have seen them."
+
+"Probably not, as they have never been published. They were addressed by
+Anthony Bleecker, of New-York, to a belle of his day, and the lady for
+whose sake, it is whispered, he lived and died a bachelor."
+
+Our colloquy was here interrupted by Robert Dudley, who wanted to know
+if we were to have no story this evening. Robert was a great lover of
+stories. "Ask Mr. Arlington, Robert," said I, "I have given three
+stories to his one already."
+
+"Aunt Nancy," said Mr. Arlington, who had already begun to give me the
+affectionate cognomen by which I was always addressed at Donaldson
+Manor, "Aunt Nancy has stories without number, written and ready for
+demand, but my portfolio furnishes only rude pencilings, or at best a
+crayon sketch."
+
+"Will you show them to us, Mr. Arlington?" asked the persevering Robert,
+who stood beside him, portfolio in hand. "May I draw one out, as Aunt
+Annie did the other evening; and will you tell us about it?"
+
+Mr. Arlington, with good-humored playfulness, consented, and Robert drew
+from the portfolio one of his drawings, representing a fisherman's
+family.
+
+"That man," said I, as I looked at the honest face of the rude,
+weather-beaten fisherman, "looks as though he had passed through
+adventurous scenes, and might have many a history to tell."
+
+"He did not tell his histories to me," said Mr. Arlington. "I know
+nothing more of them than that paper reveals. It seemed to me that the
+woman and child were visiting, for the first time, the ocean, whose
+booming sound was to the fisherman as the voice of home. He was probably
+introducing them to its wonders--revealing to them the mysteries which
+awaken the superstition of the vulgar and the poetry of the cultivated
+imagination. He has given her, you may observe, a sea-shell, and she is
+listening for the first time to its low, strange music."
+
+"And is that all?" asked Robert, when Mr. Arlington ceased speaking.
+
+"All I know, Robert," he answered, with a smile at the boy's
+earnestness.
+
+"But did you never go fishing yourself, Mr. Arlington?"
+
+"Not often, Robert; I like more active sports better--hunting--"
+
+"Ah! do tell us about your hunting, Mr. Arlington; you must have had
+some adventures in hunting in those great Western forests I have heard
+you speak of."
+
+"The greatest adventure I ever had, Robert," said Mr. Arlington, "was in
+an _Eastern_ forest, and when I was the _hunted_, not the _hunter_."
+
+"Indians, Mr. Arlington--were they Indians that hunted you?"
+
+"No, Robert; my hunters were wolves."
+
+"Oh! pray tell us about it, Mr. Arlington, will you not?"
+
+"Certainly, with the ladies' permission."
+
+The ladies' permission was soon obtained, and our little party listened
+with the deepest interest to the thrilling recital which I have called
+
+
+THE WOLF CHASE.[2]
+
+During the winter of 1844, being engaged in the northern part of Maine,
+I had much leisure to devote to the wild sports of a new country. To
+none of these was I more passionately addicted than to skating. The deep
+and sequestered lakes of this State, frozen by the intense cold of a
+northern winter, present a wide field to the lovers of this pastime.
+Often would I bind on my skates, and glide away up the glittering river,
+and wind each mazy streamlet that flowed beneath its fetters on towards
+the parent ocean, forgetting all the while time and distance in the
+luxurious sense of the gliding motion--thinking of nothing in the easy
+flight, but rather dreaming, as I looked through the transparent ice at
+the long weeds and cresses that nodded in the current beneath, and
+seemed wrestling with the waves to let them go; or I would follow on the
+track of some fox or otter, and run my skate along the mark he had left
+with his dragging tail until the trail would enter the woods. Sometimes
+these excursions were made by moonlight, and it was on one of these
+occasions that I had a rencontre, which even now, with kind faces around
+me, I cannot recall without a nervous looking-over-my-shoulder feeling.
+
+I had left my friend's house one evening just before dusk, with the
+intention of skating a short distance up the noble Kennebec, which
+glided directly before the door. The night was beautifully clear. A
+peerless moon rode through an occasional fleecy cloud, and stars
+twinkled from the sky and from every frost-covered tree in millions.
+Your mind would wonder at the light that came glinting from ice, and
+snow-wreath, and incrusted branches, as the eye followed for miles the
+broad gleam of the Kennebec, that like a jewelled zone swept between the
+mighty forests on its banks. And yet all was still. The cold seemed to
+have frozen tree, and air, and water, and every living thing that moved.
+Even the ringing of my skates on the ice echoed back from the Moccason
+Hill with a startling clearness, and the crackle of the ice as I passed
+over it in my course seemed to follow the tide of the river with
+lightning speed.
+
+I had gone up the river nearly two miles when, coming to a little stream
+which empties into the larger, I turned in to explore its course. Fir
+and hemlock of a century's growth met overhead, and formed an archway
+radiant with frost-work. All was dark within, but I was young and
+fearless, and as I peered into an unbroken forest that reared itself on
+the borders of the stream, I laughed with very joyousness: my wild
+hurrah rang through the silent woods, and I stood listening to the echo
+that reverberated again and again, until all was hushed. I thought how
+often the Indian hunter had concealed himself behind these very
+trees--how often his arrow had pierced the deer by this very stream, and
+his wild halloo had here rung for his victory. And then, turning from
+fancy to reality, I watched a couple of white owls, that sat in their
+hooded state, with ruffled pantalettes and long ear-tabs, debating in
+silent conclave the affairs of their frozen realm, and was wondering if
+they, "for all their feathers, were a-cold," when suddenly a sound
+arose--it seemed to me to come from beneath the ice; it sounded low and
+tremulous at first, until it ended in one wild yell. I was appalled.
+Never before had such a noise met my ears. I thought it more than
+mortal--so fierce, and amidst such an unbroken solitude, it seemed as
+though a fiend had blown a blast from an infernal trumpet. Presently I
+heard the twigs on shore snap, as though from the tread of some brute
+animal, and the blood rushed back to my forehead with a bound that made
+my skin burn, and I felt relieved that I had to contend with things
+earthly, and not of spiritual nature--my energies returned, and I looked
+around me for some means of escape. The moon shone through the opening
+at the mouth of the creek by which I had entered the forest, and
+considering this the best channel of escape, I darted towards it like an
+arrow. 'Twas scarcely a hundred yards distant, and the swallow could
+hardly excel my desperate flight; yet, as I turned my head to the shore,
+I could see two dark objects dashing through the underbrush at a pace
+nearly double in speed to my own. By this rapidity, and the short yells
+which they occasionally gave, I knew at once that these were the much
+dreaded gray wolf.
+
+I had never met with these animals, but from the description given of
+them I had very little pleasure in making their acquaintance. Their
+untameable fierceness, and the untiring strength which seems part of
+their nature, render them objects of dread to every benighted traveller.
+
+    "With their long gallop, which can tire
+    The deer-hound's haste, the hunter's fire,"
+
+they pursue their prey--never straying from the track of their
+victim--and as the wearied hunter thinks he has at last outstripped
+them, he finds that they but waited for the evening to seize their prey,
+and falls a prize to the tireless pursuers.
+
+The bushes that skirted the shore flew past with the velocity of
+lightning as I dashed on in my flight to pass the narrow opening. The
+outlet was nearly gained; one second more and I should be comparatively
+safe, when the fierce brutes appeared on the bank directly above me,
+which here rose to the height of ten feet. There was no time for
+thought, so I bent my head and dashed madly forward. The wolves sprang,
+but miscalculating my speed, sprang behind, while their intended prey
+glided out upon the river.
+
+Nature turned me towards home. The light flakes of snow spun from the
+iron of my skates, and I was some distance from my pursuers, when their
+fierce howl told me I was still their fugitive. I did not look back, I
+did not feel afraid, or sorry, or glad; one thought of home, of the
+bright faces awaiting my return, of their tears if they never should see
+me, and then every energy of body and mind was exerted for escape. I was
+perfectly at home on the ice. Many were the days that I had spent on my
+good skates, never thinking that at one time they would be my only means
+of safety. Every half minute an alternate yelp from my ferocious
+followers made me only too certain that they were in close pursuit.
+Nearer and nearer they came; I heard their feet pattering on the ice
+nearer still, until I could feel their breath and hear their snuffing
+scent. Every nerve and muscle in my frame were stretched to the utmost
+tension.
+
+The trees along the shore seemed to dance in the uncertain light, and my
+brain turned with my own breathless speed, yet still they seemed to hiss
+forth their breath with a sound truly horrible, when an involuntary
+motion on my part turned me out of my course. The wolves close behind,
+unable to stop, and as unable to turn on the smooth ice, slipped and
+fell, still going on far ahead; their tongues were lolling out, their
+white tusks glaring from their bloody mouths, their dark, shaggy breasts
+were fleeced with foam, and as they passed me their eyes glared, and
+they howled with fury. The thought flashed on my mind, that by this
+means I could avoid them, viz., by turning aside whenever they came too
+near; for they, by the formation of their feet, are unable to run on ice
+except on a straight line.
+
+I immediately acted upon this plan. The wolves, having regained their
+feet, sprang directly towards me. The race was renewed for twenty yards
+up the stream; they were already close on my back, when I glided round
+and dashed directly past my pursuers. A wild yell greeted my evolution,
+and the wolves, slipping upon their haunches, sailed onward, presenting
+a perfect picture of helplessness and baffled rage. Thus I gained nearly
+a hundred yards at each turning. This was repeated two or three times,
+every moment the animals getting more excited and baffled.
+
+At one time, by delaying my turning too long, my sanguinary antagonists
+came so near, that they threw the white foam over my dress as they
+sprang to seize me, and their teeth clashed together, like the spring of
+a fox-trap. Had my skates failed for one instant, had I tripped on a
+stick, or caught my foot in a fissure in the ice, the story I am now
+telling would never have been told. I thought all the chances over; I
+knew where they would first take hold of me if I fell; I thought how
+long it would be before I died, and then there would be a search for the
+body that would already have its tomb;--for oh! how fast man's mind
+traces out all the dread colors of Death's picture, only those who have
+been near the grim original can tell.
+
+But soon I came opposite the house, and my hounds--I knew their deep
+voices--roused by the noise, bayed furiously from the kennels. I heard
+their chains rattle; how I wished they would break them! and then I
+should have protectors that would be peers to the fiercest denizens of
+the forest. The wolves, taking the hint conveyed by the dogs, stopped in
+their mad career, and after a moment's consideration, turned and fled. I
+watched them until their dusky forms disappeared over a neighboring
+hill. Then, taking off my skates, wended my way to the house, with
+feelings which may be better imagined than described.
+
+But even yet, I never see a broad sheet of ice in the moonshine, without
+thinking of that snuffling breath and those fearful things that followed
+me so closely down the frozen Kennebec.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+
+"What a noble forest!" cried Annie, as she gazed with rapturous
+admiration on a noble specimen of the engraver's art--so noble, indeed,
+that the absence of color seemed hardly to be felt. It was a
+richly-wooded scene, with interesting figures forming a procession in
+the centre and foreground of the landscape. The original might have been
+painted by Ruysdael. "Those old oaks," she exclaimed, "with their
+gnarled and crooked branches, look as though they might have formed part
+of the Druidical groves whose solemn mysteries inspired even the
+arrogant Roman with awe. This picture, however, belongs to a later
+period--that of the Crusades, perhaps, for here is a procession in which
+appear figures in the long robe of the monk, and I think I can discern a
+cross on that banner borne at their head. But what, dear Aunt Nancy,
+could you possibly find in our land of yesterday, to associate with such
+a scene?"
+
+"Our people may be of yesterday, Annie, but our land bears no marks of
+recent origin. The most arrogant boaster of the Old World may feel
+himself humbled as he stands within the shadow of our forests, and looks
+up to trees which we might almost fancy to have waved over the heads of
+'the patriarchs of an infant world?'"
+
+"And you have seen some such forests, and on the branches of these old
+trees 'hangs a tale' which you will tell us. Is it not so, Aunt Nancy?"
+
+"I have seen such a forest, and I have a sketch of certain events
+occurring within its circle. The narrative was given me by my friend,
+Mrs. H., who was acquainted with the parties. You will find it in her
+handwriting in the compartment of my desk from which you took the
+engraving."
+
+Annie found the paper, and I saw a quiet smile pass around as she read
+aloud its title. Mr. Arlington, at my request, took the reader's place,
+and we spent our evening in listening to
+
+
+THE HISTORY OF AN OLD MAID.
+
+It is an almost universal belief among those who have faith in man's
+immortality, that when his spiritual nature has been divested of its
+present veil--the bodily organization by which it at pleasure reveals or
+conceals itself--it shall be manifested to all at a glance in the
+unsullied beauty of holiness, or the dark deformity of vice. Shall our
+vision extend further? Shall we read the soul's past history? Shall we
+know the struggles which have given strength to its powers? The fears
+which have shadowed, and the hopes which have lighted, its earthly path?
+Shall we learn the unspoken sacrifices which have been laid on the altar
+of its affections or its duty? Shall we see how a single generous
+impulse has shaped the whole course of its being, and been as a heavenly
+flame, to which every selfish desire and feeling have been committed in
+noiseless devotion? If this be so, how many such records shall be
+furnished by the life of woman? How often shall it be found, that from
+such a flame has risen the light with which she has brightened the
+existence of others!
+
+Meeta Werner was the daughter of industrious, honest Germans, who had
+emigrated to the western part of Pennsylvania when she was a child of
+only seven years old. Only a quarter of a mile from the spot on which
+Carl Werner had fixed his residence lived a brother German, Franz
+Rainer. Franz was a widower, with one child, a son, named Ernest. He was
+a hard, stern man, and the first smiles which had lighted the existence
+of the young Ernest were caught from the sprightly Meeta and her
+kind-hearted mother. The children became playfellows and friends. It was
+a wild country in which they lived. A very short walk from their own
+doors brought them into a forest which seemed to their young
+imaginations endless; where gigantic trees interlaced their branches,
+and with their green foliage shut out the sun in summer, or in winter
+reflected it in dazzling brightness, and a thousand gorgeous colors,
+from the icicles which cased their leafless branches and pendent twigs.
+There was not a footpath, a sunny hill or flowery dell, for miles around
+their homes, which had not been trodden together by Meeta Werner and
+Ernest Rainer before their acquaintance was a year old. Now they would
+come home laden with wood-flowers, and now they might be seen treading
+wearily back from some distant spot, with baskets filled with
+blackberries, or with the dark-blue whortleberries. There were no
+schools in the neighborhood, but they had been taught by their fathers
+to read and write their own language, and Ernest afterwards acquired
+some knowledge of English from the good pastor who had accompanied the
+emigrants from Germany, and who acted as their interpreter when they
+required one. Having access to few books, they seemed likely to grow up
+with little more learning than might be gathered from their own
+observation of the world around them; but when Ernest was eighteen and
+Meeta fifteen years of age, circumstances occurred which gave an
+entirely new coloring to their lives.
+
+Franz Rainer had not always been so stern and hard as he now seemed. He
+had married imprudently, in the world's acceptation of that term; that
+is, he had made a portionless but lovely girl his wife, and in doing so
+had incurred his father's lasting displeasure. He had been banished from
+a home of plenty with a small sum, "to keep him from starving," he was
+told. With that sum and a young delicate wife he sailed for America, and
+found a home for himself and his boy, and a grave for his wife, in the
+forests of Pennsylvania. Too proud to seek a reconciliation with those
+who had cast him off, he had held no communication with his own family
+after leaving Germany; and it was not till Ernest was, as we have said,
+eighteen, that the silence of his home was broken by what seemed a voice
+from the past. After many hindrances and delays, and passing through
+many hands for which it had not been intended, a letter reached him from
+a merchant in Philadelphia, who had been requested to institute a search
+for Franz by his only brother. The old Rainer was dead, and the family
+estate had descended to this brother, a scholar and a man of solitary
+habits. Finding himself growing old in a lonely home, and retaining some
+kindly memory of the brother in whose companionship his childhood had
+been passed, he wished him to return to Germany, and again dwell with
+them in the house of their fathers. To this Franz would by no means
+consent. His nature was cast in too stern a mould to re-knit at a word
+the ties which had been so violently sundered. He consented, however,
+after some correspondence with his brother, to send Ernest to Germany,
+to be educated there; at least, to receive such an education as could be
+gained in four years; for he insisted that at the end of that time he
+should return to America, and remain there while his father lived.
+"After my death, if he choose to return to the home from which his
+father was banished, he may," wrote the still resentful Franz.
+
+And how was this change in all the prospects of his life received by the
+young Ernest and his companion Meeta? By him with mingled feelings;
+regret, joy, fear, hope, by turns ruled his soul. The regret was all for
+Meeta and her mother; they were the sources of all his pleasant
+memories; and as he gazed upon Meeta's hitherto bright face, now
+clouded with sorrow, and kissed from her cheek the first tears he had
+ever known her to shed for herself, he was ready to give up all his fair
+prospects abroad and live with her for ever. Meeta herself, however,
+gave a new direction to his thoughts, by generously turning from the
+subject of her grief in parting, to dwell on the idea of the delight
+with which they would meet again, and especially on her peculiar
+pleasure in seeing Ernest come back "riding in a grand coach, with
+servants following him on horseback, as she remembered to have seen in
+Germany, and knowing enough to teach Parson Schmidt himself!" After
+listening to such prophecies, Ernest no longer expressed any desire to
+remain with Meeta; he contented himself, instead, with promising to
+return as soon as he could, and with winning from her a promise that,
+come when he might, she would be his wife. This was not a new thought or
+a new word to either. They could scarcely tell themselves when the idea
+had first arisen in their minds that they would one day live together,
+and be what Carl Werner and his wife were to each other. They had even
+chosen a site for their house; and Ernest had more than once of late
+expressed the opinion that they were old enough to inform their parents
+of their intentions; but the more timid Meeta objected. Now, however,
+she could refuse Ernest nothing, and before the day of parting came they
+had made a _confidante_ of Meeta's mother, and from her the two fathers
+had learned the desires of their children. Carl Werner heard the story
+with a smile; but a denser shadow gathered on the dark brow of Franz.
+For a moment something of his father's pride was in his heart; but his
+own blighted life arose before him, and he said, "The boy may do as he
+pleases. No man has a right to control another on such a subject."
+
+The sun had not yet risen, though its rays were gilding the few light
+clouds that flecked the eastern sky, when Meeta and Ernest stood
+together beneath an old oak which had long been their favorite
+"trysting-tree," to say those words and give and receive those last
+looks which are among life's most sacred treasures. Smiles and blushes
+mingled with tears on Meeta's cheek as Ernest pressed her to his bosom,
+kissed her again and again, and promised that his first letter from
+Germany should be addressed to her, and that in exactly four years from
+that date he would be again beneath that tree, to claim her promise to
+be his for ever. The voice of Carl Werner, who was to accompany Ernest
+the first stage of his journey, startled them in the midst of their
+adieus; and bursting from the arms of her companion, Meeta plunged
+deeper into the woods to escape her father's eye. When Carl returned in
+the evening he handed her a small parcel, saying, "There's some foolery
+that Ernest bought for you, Meeta. Silly boy! I hope they'll teach him
+in Germany to take better care of his money!"
+
+The parcel contained a very plain locket, with one of Ernest's dark
+curls inclosed in it. Plain as it was, it seemed to Meeta, as it
+probably had seemed to Ernest, a magnificent present; yet she valued
+more the few simple words written on the paper which enveloped it: "For
+Meeta, my promised wife." Four months passed away before Meeta heard
+again of her lover. Then there came a letter to her, which was full of
+the great cities through which Ernest had passed, the home to which he
+had come, and the new life which was opening to him there. In his
+descriptions his uncle seemed a very grand gentleman, and his uncle's
+housekeeper almost as grand a lady. He told of the new wardrobe which
+had been provided for him, the acquaintances to whom he had been
+introduced, and the studies he had commenced. And in all this Meeta saw
+but the first step towards that grandeur which she had predicted for
+him, and she rejoiced.
+
+Four or five such letters were received by Meeta, each full of her
+lover himself; but they came at lengthening intervals, and during the
+third year she received from him only messages sent through his father,
+though every message still conveyed a promise to write soon. The letters
+of Ernest showed that he had made great advances in scholarship during
+his residence in Germany, and to all but Meeta herself, and perhaps her
+mother, they gave equal evidence that his heart was not with the home or
+the friends he had left in America. But no shadow ever passed over the
+transparent face of Meeta. Ernest was to her still the frank, ardent,
+simple-hearted boy whom she had loved so long and so truly. She was
+still his promised wife. Her quick sensibility to all which touched him
+made her feel that there was a change in the tone with which her father
+named him, and an expression, half of anger, half of pity, on his face
+when she alluded to him. It was an expression which gave her pain,
+though she did not understand its meaning; and she ceased to speak of
+Ernest, lest she should call it up; but his locket lay next her heart,
+his letters were well-nigh worn away with frequent reading, and no day
+passed in which she did not visit the oak beneath which they had parted,
+and beneath which she fondly believed they were to meet again.
+
+During the fourth year of Ernest's absence his letters to his father
+became more frequent, and sometimes inclosed a few lines to Meeta. To
+both he expressed a strong desire to stay one more year abroad, alleging
+that to interrupt his studies now would be to render all his past labors
+unavailing. There was hardly a struggle in Meeta's mind in yielding her
+almost matured hopes to what seemed so reasonable a wish of Ernest; but
+the elder Rainer was not so easily won to compliance. Urgent
+representations from his brother as well as Ernest, did at length,
+however, induce him to consent to the absence of his son for another
+year.
+
+This was an important year to Meeta. It brought her an acquaintance
+through whom her dormant intellect was aroused, and her manners fitted
+for something more than the rude life by which she had been hitherto
+surrounded. This was Mrs. Schwartz, the wife of a young pastor, who had
+come to assist Mr. Schmidt in those duties to which his advancing years
+rendered him unequal. Mrs. Schwartz was a woman of no ordinary stamp.
+Highly educated, with an intense enjoyment of every form of beauty and
+grace, she saw something of them embellishing the homeliest employments
+and most common life with which a sentiment of duty was connected.
+Severe illness had confined her to her bed for many weeks soon after her
+arrival, and before she had been able to establish that perfect domestic
+economy, which renders the daily and hourly inspection and interference
+of the mistress of a mansion needless to the comfort of its inmates.
+During this period, Meeta, whose sympathies had been deeply interested
+in the stranger, nursed her, and planned for her, and worked for her,
+until she made herself a place in her heart among her life-friends. As
+Mrs. Schwartz saw her moving around her with such busy kindness, the
+thought often arose in her mind, "What can I do for her?" This is a
+question we seldom ask ourselves of any one sincerely without finding an
+answer to it.
+
+We have said that Meeta had access to few books in early life; we might
+have added that she had little opportunity of hearing the conversation
+of persons more cultivated than herself. Thus were the two great sources
+of intellectual development sealed to her. She had a thoughtful, earnest
+mind. She loved the beautiful world around her, and the GREAT BEING who
+made and sustained that world. But if the contemplation of these things
+awakened thoughts of a higher character than the daily baking and
+brewing, milking and scrubbing in her father's house, she had no
+language in which to clothe them, and vague and undefined, they fleeted
+away like the morning mists, leaving no impress of their presence. Her
+acquaintance with Mrs. Schwartz, and the conversation she sometimes
+heard between her and her husband, gave to these shadows substance and
+form, and awakened a new want in Meeta's soul--the want of knowledge. As
+in all else, Ernest was present in this. He would doubtless be
+intelligent, wise, like Mr. Schwartz, and how could she be his
+companion? Something of these new experiences in Meeta was divined by
+Mrs. Schwartz, and with a true womanly tact she became her teacher
+without wounding her self-love. The road to knowledge once opened to
+Meeta, her advance on it was rapid. How could it be otherwise, when
+every step was bringing her nearer to Earnest! The elevation and
+refinement of mind which Meeta thus acquired impressed themselves on her
+agreeable features. Her dark eyes became bright with the soul's light,
+and her whole aspect so attractive, that her old friends exclaimed, as
+they looked upon her, "How handsome Meeta Werner grows, she who used to
+be so plain!"
+
+After a time these superficial observers thought they had found the
+cause of this change in Meeta's change of costume, for a new sense of
+beauty had been awakened in her, under whose guidance her dark hair was
+brought in soft silken braids upon her cheeks, wound gracefully around
+her well-shaped head, and sometimes ornamented with a ribbon or a
+cluster of wild flowers: while her dresses where remodelled so as to
+resemble less the fashion which her mother and her sister emigrants had
+imported thirteen years before from Germany, and to give a more natural
+air to her really fine figure.
+
+"How wonderfully Meeta has improved," said Mr. Schwartz, one evening to
+his wife, as he looked after the retreating form of her friend.
+
+"Yes, and I am truly rejoiced that she has so improved before her lover
+returns to claim her."
+
+"I wish he could have taken away with him such an impression as our
+handsome and intelligent Meeta would now make. He would have been much
+more likely to remain constant to her. There must be a painful contrast
+between the cultivated and graceful women he has known in Germany, and
+his memory of his early love."
+
+"Love is a great embellisher," said Mrs. Schwartz, with a gay smile, and
+the conversation passed to more general topics.
+
+The fifth year of Ernest's absence was gone, and still he came not; but
+he was coming soon, at least so his father said, though he did not show
+Meeta the letters on which he founded his assertion. It was the first
+time he had withheld them; a circumstance the more remarkable, because
+of late he seemed to regard Meeta with greater affection and confidence
+than he had ever done before. He now sought her society, and seemed
+pleased and even proud of the connection to which he had at first
+consented with some reluctance. It was very soon after the reception of
+the letter from Ernest to which we have alluded, that Franz Rainer's
+health began to fail, and that so rapidly, that Meeta feared Ernest
+could not arrive in time to see him. She was to the old man an angel of
+consolation, and he clung to her as to his last hope. In pity to his
+lonely condition, her own parents were willing to spare her for a time,
+and Meeta, that she might take care of him by night as well as by day,
+had removed to his house a week before Ernest's arrival. He came not
+wholly unwarned of the sorrow that awaited him, for he had found a
+letter from Meeta at the house of the merchant in Philadelphia through
+whom he had corresponded with his father, tenderly yet plainly revealing
+her fears, and urging him to hurry homeward without delay. He travelled
+with little rest or refreshment for two days and nights, and arrived
+late on the third day at his father's house. It was a still summer
+evening, and while the old man slept, Meeta sat near him in the only
+parlor the house afforded, reading by a shaded night lamp. She heard
+the sound of carriage wheels, and paused to listen; the sound ceased; a
+shadow darkened the moonlight which had been streaming through an open
+window, and then Ernest, the playfellow of her childhood, the lover of
+her youth, stood before her; but how changed, how gloriously changed
+thought Meeta, even in that hour of hurry and agitation. They gazed on
+each other in silence for a moment, and then Meeta with a bright smile,
+yet in a whisper, for even then she forgot not the dying man, asked:
+
+"Do you not know me, Ernest?"
+
+"Meeta!" he ejaculated, as he took the hand she extended to him, but
+dropping it almost immediately, he said anxiously: "My father! he lives,
+Meeta?"
+
+"He does, Ernest, and may live, I think _will_ live, for many days yet."
+
+"Thank GOD! then I shall see him again!"
+
+The conversation had till now been in whispers, but Ernest uttered his
+ejaculation of thankfulness aloud. There was a movement in the old man's
+room, a sound, and Meeta glided to his side.
+
+"Who were you talking with, my daughter?" he murmured feebly. For many
+days Franz Rainer had called Meeta daughter, as though he found pleasure
+in recalling the tie between them.
+
+"With one who tells me Ernest has arrived, and will see you soon," said
+Meeta.
+
+"It is Ernest himself. I knew his voice: Ernest, my son!" And the old
+man's tones were loud and strong, as Meeta had heard them for days. In
+another moment, Ernest was bending over his father, and they were gazing
+on each other with a tenderness whose very existence they had not before
+suspected. Tears were rolling down the face of the once stern old man,
+as he pressed his son's hand again and again, and murmured blessings on
+him, and thanks to GOD for his safe return; and Ernest, as he marked the
+death-shadow on his father's brow, felt that a tie was tearing away
+which had been woven more intimately than he had supposed with his
+heart's fibres. The weeping Meeta composed herself that she might soothe
+them.
+
+"Ernest, I cannot let you stay longer here; I am your father's nurse."
+
+"My nurse, my daughter, my all, Ernest; your gift to me, my son, which,
+thank GOD! you have come in time to receive again from my hands. Take
+her to you, Ernest."
+
+The old man held Meeta's hand clasped in his own towards his son, and
+Ernest touched it, but so slightly and with a hand so cold, that Meeta
+looked up in alarm. There was a beseeching expression in the eyes that
+met hers; a look which she did not understand, and yet on which she
+acted.
+
+"Ernest," she said, "you are fatigued to death, and your father has been
+too much agitated already. Go, I pray you, for the present; I cannot
+leave your father, but you will find coffee and biscuits by the kitchen
+fire, and there is a bed prepared in your own room. Good-night; we shall
+meet again to-morrow," she added with a smile to the old man.
+
+Ernest gave her a more cordial glance and pressure of the hand than she
+had yet received from him; told his father that he would only snatch an
+hour's sleep and be with him again, and left the room.
+
+"Go with him, Meeta; you must have much to say."
+
+"Nothing that we cannot say as well to-morrow. And now you must take
+another sleeping draught, for I see Ernest has carried off all the
+effect of your last."
+
+Meeta spoke cheerfully, yet her heart was sad, she scarcely knew why.
+She would not think Ernest unkind, yet how different had been their
+meeting from that which fancy had so often sketched for her!
+
+Franz Rainer fell asleep, and again Meeta returned to the parlor. A lamp
+was still burning there, and by its dim light she saw the form of Ernest
+extended on a settee with his cloak and valise for his bed and pillow.
+At first she drew timidly back into the chamber, but as the slight noise
+she had made before perceiving him, had failed to disturb him, she felt
+assured that he slept soundly, and an irresistible desire arose in her
+heart to draw near him, and look at him more closely than she had yet
+ventured to do. She stood beside him; her heart bounded against the
+locket, his gift, which lay in its accustomed place, as she marked with
+a quick eye how the handsome but uncouth stripling had expanded into the
+man of noble proportions, whose features had, like her own, acquired a
+new character under the refining touch of intellect. Meeta looked on him
+till her eyes grew dim with tears pressed from a heart full of emotion,
+compounded of happy memories and glad hopes, shadowed by disappointment
+and saddened by doubt. Above all other feelings, however, rose the
+undying love which had "grown with her growth, and strengthened with her
+strength." Suddenly, by an irrepressible impulse, she laid her hand
+softly on the dark locks of waving hair which clustered over his broad
+brow, and breathed in low, tender accents, "My Ernest!"
+
+On leaving his father's room, Ernest had thrown himself on his hard
+couch, not to sleep, but to rest; and when slumber overpowered him, he
+had yielded to it unwillingly, and with the determination to be on the
+alert and ready to arise on the first summons. Sleep that comes thus,
+howsoever it may continue through other disturbing causes, rarely
+resists a touch, or the sound of our own name, and light as was Meeta's
+touch, and low as were her tones, Ernest was partially aroused by them.
+He stirred, and she would have retreated noiselessly from his side, but
+as his eyes unclosed, they fell upon her with an expression of such
+rapturous love as she had never seen in them before, and in an instant
+he had encircled her form with his arm, and drawn her to his bosom. In
+glad surprise she rested there a moment; it was but a moment.
+
+"Sophie--my Sophie!" were the murmured words that met her ear, and gave
+her strength to burst from his embraces and glide rapidly, noiselessly
+back into the darkened chamber. There, sheltered by the darkness, she
+could see Ernest raise himself slowly up from his couch, look almost
+wildly around him, and then seemingly satisfied that he had only
+dreamed, sink back again to rest.
+
+A dream it had indeed been to him; a shadow of the night; to Meeta a
+dark cloud, in whose gloom she was henceforth to walk for ever. Hours of
+conversation could not so fully have revealed the truth to Meeta as
+those simple words: "Sophie--my Sophie!" uttered by Ernest in such a
+tone of heart-worship. Ernest loved with all the fond idolatry which she
+had thought of late belonged not to man's affections; but he loved
+another. Jealousy; the bitter consciousness of her own slighted love;
+the memory of his vows; the crushing thought that she was nothing to him
+now; that while he had been the life of her life, another had filled his
+thoughts and ruled his being, created a wild tempest in her soul. All
+was still around her. The sick man, the tired Ernest slept; and without,
+not even the rustling of a leaf disturbed the repose of Nature. She
+seemed to herself the only living thing in the universe; and to her,
+life was torture. An hour passed in this still concentrated agony, and
+she could endure it no longer; she must be up and doing; she would wake
+Ernest; she would tell him the revelation she had made; upbraid him with
+her blighted life, and leave him. Let him send for his Sophie; what did
+she, the outcast, the rejected, there in his house?--why should she
+nurse his father? She arose and approached again the couch of Ernest;
+she was about to call to him, but she was arrested by the expression of
+agony in his face. His brow was contracted, and as she continued to
+gaze, low moans issued from his quivering lips. Ernest too was a
+sufferer; how that thought softened the hard, cold, icy crust that had
+been gathering around her heart! The bitterness of pride and jealousy
+gave place to tenderer emotions. Tears gathered in her eyes, and
+stealing softly back to her sheltered seat, she wept long and silently.
+
+"In sorrow the angels are near;" and Meeta's heart was now full of
+sorrow, not of anger. Sad must her life ever be, but what of that, if
+Ernest could be happy? Perhaps he suffered for her; the good, true
+Ernest. It might be that only in dreams he had told his love to Sophie,
+bound to silence, painful silence, by his vows to her. She then could
+make him happy, and was not that her first desire? If it were not, her
+love was a low, selfish, unworthy love, and she would pray that it might
+be purified. She did pray, not as she would have done an hour before, to
+be taken out of the world, but that she might be made meet to do the
+will of her FATHER while in the world. She prayed for herself, for
+Ernest; and sweet peace stole into her heart, and before the morning
+light came, she had resolved not to leave the old man who loved her,
+during his few remaining days, yet not to keep Ernest in doubt of his
+own freedom. She was impatient that he should awake, and fell asleep
+imagining various modes of making her communication to him. Exhausted by
+mental agitation even more than by watching, she slept long and heavily.
+When she awoke, Ernest was shading the window at her side, through which
+the sun was shining brightly into the room. As she moved he looked at
+her kindly, and said:
+
+"I am afraid I awoke you, Meeta, when I meant only to prolong your sleep
+by shutting out this light."
+
+"I have slept long enough," was all that Meeta could say. The old Rainer
+was awake, and dreading above all things some allusions from him to the
+supposed relations of Ernest and herself, she hastened from the room and
+busied herself in the preparation of breakfast. Having seen that meal
+placed upon the table, she returned to the sick room and begged that
+Ernest would pour out his own coffee, while she did some things that
+were essential to his father's comfort. She lingered till Ernest came to
+see whether he could take her place, and then, as the old man slept
+peacefully, and she could make no further excuse, she accompanied him
+back to the table. The breakfast, a mere form to Meeta at least,
+proceeded in silence, or with only a casual remark from Ernest, scarcely
+heard by her, on the weather, the rapidity with which he had travelled,
+or his father's condition. Suddenly Meeta seemed to arouse herself as
+from a deep reverie:
+
+"Why do you not talk to me of Sophie?" she said, attempting to speak
+gayly, though one less embarrassed than Ernest could not have failed to
+note the tremulousness of her voice, and the quivering of the pallid lip
+which vainly strove to smile.
+
+But Meeta's agitation was as nothing to that of Ernest. For a moment he
+gazed upon her as though spell-bound, then dropping his face into his
+clasped hands, sat actually shivering before her. It was plain that
+Ernest had not lightly estimated his obligations to her. If he had
+sinned against them he had not despised them, and this conviction gave
+new strength to Meeta. She rose for the hour superior to every selfish
+emotion. Laying her hand upon his arm, she said, gently:
+
+"Be not so agitated, Ernest; can you not regard me as your friend, and
+talk to me as you did in old days of all that disturbs you; and why
+should you be disturbed at my speaking of--of your Sophie? You do not
+suppose that--you know that--in short, Ernest, we cannot be expected to
+feel now as we did five years ago; but surely that need not prevent our
+being friends."
+
+Meeta had been herself too much confused of late, to remark her
+companion. When she now ventured with great effort to meet his eyes, she
+found them fixed upon her with an expression of lively admiration and
+grateful joy.
+
+"Meeta, dear Meeta!" he exclaimed, seizing her hand and kissing it. "You
+give me new life. I have been a miserable man for weeks past, torn by
+conflicting claims upon my heart and my honor. You had claims on both,
+Meeta; sacred claims, which I could never have asked you to forego; and
+so had Sophie, for though I resisted long, there came a moment of mad
+passion, of madder forgetfulness, in which, abandoning myself to the
+present, I sought and obtained an avowal of her love. It was scarcely
+over ere I felt the wrong I had done. I revealed that wrong to her; pity
+me, Meeta! I told her all--your claims, your worth. To you I resolved to
+be equally frank, and my only hope was in your generosity. But my father
+had never suffered me to doubt that your heart was still mine, and
+though I was assured that you would enable me to fulfil my obligations
+to Sophie, I feared, I mean, I could not hope, that it would be without
+any sacrifice; I mean without any regrets on your part."
+
+Ernest paused in some embarrassment; but Meeta could not speak, and he
+resumed:
+
+"You have made me perfectly happy, Meeta, which even Sophie could not
+have done, had I been compelled in devoting myself to her to relinquish
+the friend and sister of my childhood."
+
+"Always regard me thus, Ernest, as your friend and sister, and I shall
+be satisfied."
+
+Meeta had risen to return to the sick room, but Ernest caught her hand
+and held her back, while he said:
+
+"But you must see my Sophie, Meeta; you must know her and then you will
+love her too. She will be here soon with her sister, Mrs. Schwartz."
+
+"Mrs. Schwartz her sister? Then my last doubt is removed Ernest. She is
+worthy of you."
+
+"Worthy of me!" And Ernest would have run into all a lover's rhapsodies
+on this text, but Meeta had escaped from him.
+
+Hitherto Meeta's life had been one of quietness, of inaction, and now in
+a few short weeks ages of active existence seemed crowded. One object
+she had set before her as the great aim of her life; it was to secure
+Ernest's happiness and preserve his honor. She understood now the
+coldness with which her father had of late named him. It was essential
+to her peace that this coldness should not deepen into anger. Not even
+in her own family then must she have rest from the strife between her
+inner and her outer life. Sympathy she must not have, since sympathy
+with her was almost inseparably connected with reproach of Ernest. Time
+had another lesson to teach, and Meeta soon learned it; that in a combat
+such as she had to sustain, no half-way measures would suffice, that she
+must not drive her griefs down to the depths of her heart, shutting them
+there from every human eye, but she must drive them out of her heart. We
+talk of feigning cheerfulness, of wearing a mask for the world and
+throwing it off in solitude, and we may do this for a week, a month, a
+year, but those who have a life-grief to sustain, from whose hearts hope
+has died out, know that there are only two paths open to them in the
+universe; to lie down in their despair and breathe out their souls in
+murmurs against their GOD, and lamentations over their destiny; or,
+humbly kissing the rod which has smitten them, to go forth out of
+themselves, where all is darkness and woe, and find a new and happier
+life in living for and in others. And thus did Meeta.
+
+We may not linger over the details of the next few weeks of her
+existence. The old Rainer died; died blessing his children, Ernest and
+Meeta, and praying for their happiness. Often would Ernest have told him
+all; but Meeta kept back a disclosure which would have given him pain.
+"Do not disturb him now, Ernest," she said; "he will know all soon, and
+bless your Sophie from heaven, where there is no sorrow."
+
+Meeta returned home, and exhaustion won for her a few days rest; rest
+even from her mental struggles; but when the funeral was over, and
+things returned to their usual routine, she felt that she must prepare
+her father and mother to receive Ernest in the character in which they
+were henceforth to regard him. She found strength for this in her lofty
+purpose and her simple dependence upon Heaven, and her voice did not
+falter nor her color change as she said to her mother:--
+
+"Do you not think Ernest is much altered?"
+
+"Yes, he is greatly improved."
+
+"Improved! Well, he may be so to the eyes of others, but--"
+
+"Is he not as tender to you, my daughter?" asked the sensitive mother.
+
+"That is not it," said Meeta, coloring for the first time: "we neither
+of us feel as we once did; it was a childish folly to suppose that we
+should. I have told Ernest that I could not fulfil our engagement, and
+he is satisfied."
+
+Madame Werner looked long at her daughter, but Meeta met the glance
+firmly.
+
+"And is this all, Meeta?"
+
+"All! What more would you have, dear mother?"
+
+"And are you happy, Meeta?"
+
+"Happier than I should be in marrying Ernest now, dear mother."
+
+Madame Werner explained all this to her husband, at her daughter's
+request. He was not grieved at it. "Ernest," he said, "had never valued
+Meeta as she deserved. He was glad she had shown so much spirit."
+
+Meeta had a more difficult task to perform. Mrs. Schwartz's sister has
+come at last. She came from Germany at the same time with Ernest, but
+stopped to make a visit to another sister in Philadelphia, and arrived
+here only last night. "I will go and see her," said Meeta one morning to
+Madame Werner. She went. As she approached the house, there came through
+the open windows the sound of an organ, accompanied by a rich and highly
+cultivated voice. Meeta would not pause for a moment, lest she should
+grow nervous. It was essential to Ernest's happiness that Sophie should
+be friendly with her; and the difficulties were of a nature which, if
+not overcome at once, would not be overcome at all. Meeta entered the
+small parlor without knocking, and found herself _tete-a-tete_ with the
+musician; a young, fair girl, delicately formed, with beautiful hands
+and arms, and pleasing, pretty face. As she saw the visitor, her song
+ceased. Meeta smiled on her, and extending her hand, said: "You are
+Sophie--Ernest's Sophie?"
+
+"And you," said the fair girl, with wondering eyes, "are--"
+
+"Meeta."
+
+This was an introduction which admitted no formality, and when Mrs.
+Schwartz entered half an hour later, she was surprised to find those so
+lately strangers conversing in the low and earnest tones which betoken
+confidence, while the lofty expression on the countenance of the one,
+and the moist eyes and flushed cheeks of the other, showed that their
+topic was one of no ordinary interest.
+
+Six months passed rapidly away, and then Ernest felt that he might,
+without disrespect to his father's memory, bring home his bride. Their
+engagement had been known for some time, and had excited no little
+surprise; though perhaps less than the continued and close friendship
+between them and Meeta. Many improvements in Sophie's future home had
+been suggested by Meeta's taste, and Ernest had acquired such a habit of
+consulting her, that no day passed without an interview between them. At
+length the evening preceding the bridal-day had arrived, and Ernest and
+Sophie had gone to secure Meeta's promise to officiate as bridesmaid in
+the simple ceremony of the morrow. They were to be married at the
+parsonage, in the presence of a few witnesses only, and were immediately
+to set out on an excursion which would occupy several weeks. They had
+urged Meeta to accompany them, but she had declined. "But she cannot
+refuse to stand up with me--do you think she can?" said Sophie to her
+sister, as she prepared to accompany Ernest to Carl Werner's.
+
+"I do not think she _will_ refuse," Mrs. Schwartz replied.
+
+"You do not think she will!" repeated Mr. Schwartz, in an accent of
+surprise, to his wife, when Ernest and Sophie had left them. "How does
+that consist with your idea of Meeta's love for Ernest?"
+
+"It perfectly consists with a love like Meeta's; a love without any
+alloy of selfishness. Dear Meeta! how little is her nobleness
+appreciated! Even I dare not let her see that she is understood by me,
+lest I should wound her delicate and generous nature."
+
+There was a pause, and then Mr. Schwartz said, hesitatingly, "If it be
+as you think, Meeta is a noble being; but----"
+
+"If it be!" interrupted Mrs. Schwartz, with warmth. "Can you doubt it?
+Have you not seen the loftier character which her generous purpose has
+impressed upon her whole aspect? the elevation--I had almost said the
+inspiration, which beams from her face when Ernest and Sophia are
+present? Sophie is my sister, and I love her truly; yet I declare to
+you, at such times I have looked from her to Meeta, and wondered at what
+seemed to me Ernest's infatuation."
+
+"Sophie is fair, and delicate, and accomplished, the very
+personification of refinement, natural and acquired, and the antipodes
+of all which Ernest, ere he saw her, had begun to dread in the untaught
+Meeta of his memory. I am not surprised at all at his loving Sophie, but
+I cannot at all understand how the simple and single-hearted Meeta can
+feign so long and so well, as on your supposition she has done."
+
+"Feign! Meeta feign! I never said or thought such a thing. A course of
+action lofty as Meeta's must have its foundation deep in the heart, in
+principles enduring as life itself. Had Meeta's been the commonplace
+feigned satisfaction with Ernest's conduct to which pride might have
+given birth, she would have been fitful in her moods; alternately gay or
+gloomy; generous and kind, or petulant and exacting. The serenity, the
+composure of countenance and manner which distinguish our Meeta, spring
+from a higher, purer source. It is the sweet submission of a chastened,
+loving spirit, which can say to its FATHER in Heaven:--
+
+    'BECAUSE my portion was assign'd,
+    Wholesome and bitter, THOU art kind,
+    And I am blessed to my mind.'"
+
+"A state of feeling to be preferred certainly to the gratification of
+any earthly affection; but I scarcely see how it can accord with Meeta's
+continued love of Ernest."
+
+"That is because you do not separate love from the selfish desires with
+which it is too generally accompanied. Meeta loves Ernest so truly, so
+entirely, that she cannot be said to yield her happiness to his, but
+rather to find it in his; his joy, his honor, are hers."
+
+"And can woman feel thus?" asked Mr. Schwartz, as he looked with
+admiration upon his wife, her cheeks glowing and her eyes lighted with
+the enthusiasm of a spirit akin to Meeta's.
+
+"There are many mysteries in woman which you have yet to fathom," said
+Mrs. Schwartz, with a smile.
+
+To the good pastor and his wife, the next day, even Sophie was a less
+interesting object of contemplation than Meeta, who stood at her side.
+She was pale, very pale, and dressed with even more than usual
+simplicity; yet there was in her face so much of the soul's light, that
+she seemed to them beautiful. Her congratulations were offered in
+speechless emotion. The brotherly kiss which Ernest pressed upon her
+cheek called up no color there, nor disturbed the graceful stillness of
+her manner; and when Sophie, who had really become sincerely attached to
+her, threw herself into her arms, she returned her embrace with
+tenderness, whispering as she did so, "Make Ernest happy, Sophie, and I
+will love you always!"
+
+And now what have we more to tell of Meeta? It cannot be denied that
+there were hours of darkness, in which the joyous hopes and memories of
+her youth rose up vividly before her, making her present life seem sad
+and lonely in contrast. But these visitors from the realm of shadows
+were neither evoked nor welcomed by Meeta. Resolutely she turned from
+the dead past, to the active, living present, determined that no shadow
+from her should darken the declining days of her father and mother. She
+is the light of their home, and often they bless the Providence which
+has left her with them. What would they have done without her cheerful
+voice to inspire them in bearing the burdens of advancing life?
+
+But not only in her home was Meeta a consolation and a blessing. The
+poor, the sick, the sorrowing, knew ever where to find true sympathy and
+ready aid. She was the "Lady Bountiful" of her neighborhood. But there
+was one house where more especially her presence was welcomed; where no
+important step was taken without her advice; where sorrow was best
+soothed by her, and joy but half complete till she had shared it. This
+house was Ernest Rainer's. To him and Sophie she was a cherished sister,
+to whose upright and self-forgetting nature they looked up with a
+species of reverence; and to their children she was "Dear Aunt Meeta!
+the kindest and best friend, except mamma, in the world!"
+
+How many more useful, more noble, or happier persons than our old maid
+can married life present? Is she not more worthy of imitation than the
+"Celias" and "Daphnes" whose delicate distresses have formed the staple
+of circulating libraries, or than those feeble spirits in real life,
+who, mistaking selfishness for sensibility, turn thanklessly from the
+blessings and coldly from the duties of life, because they have been
+denied the gratification of some cherished desire?
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+
+It is Christmas, merry Christmas, as we have been duly informed this
+morning by every inhabitant of Donaldson Manor, from Col. Donaldson to
+the pet and baby Sophy Dudley, who was taught the words but yesterday,
+for the occasion. Last evening our readings were interrupted, for all
+were busy in preparing for this important day. Miss Donaldson was
+superintending jellies and blanc-manges, custards and Charlottes des
+Russes; Col. and Mrs. Donaldson were preparing gifts for their servants,
+not one of whom was forgotten, and Annie and I, and, by his own special
+request, Mr. Arlington, were arranging in proper order the gifts of that
+most considerate, mirthful and generous of spirits, Santa Claus. This
+morning the sun rose as clear and bright as though it, too, rejoiced in
+the joy of humanity; but long before the sun had showed himself, little
+feet were pattering from room to room, and childish voices shouting in
+the unchecked exuberance of delight. I sometimes doubt whether the
+children are so happy as I am, on such occasions. One incident that
+occurred this morning would have been enough, in my opinion, to repay
+all the time, the trouble, and the gold, which Santa Claus, or his
+agents, had expended on their preparations. Aroused by the voices of the
+children, I threw on a dressing-gown and hastened to the room
+appropriated to their patron saint, which I entered at one door just as
+little Eva Dudley appeared at another. Without being in the least a
+beauty, Eva has the most charming face I know; merry and bright as
+Puck's, or as her own life, which from its earliest dawn has been joyous
+as a bird's carol. She gazed now with eager delight on the toys
+exhibited by her brothers and sisters, without, apparently, one thought
+of herself, till Robert said, "But see here, Eva, look at your own."
+
+As her eyes rested on the large baby-house, with its folding-doors open
+to display the furniture of the parlors, and the two dolls, mother and
+daughter, seated at a table on which stood a neat china breakfasting
+set, she clasped her dimpled hands in silent ecstasy for half a minute,
+then rising to her utmost height on her rosy little toes, she exclaimed,
+"Oh, isn't I a happy little woman!"
+
+Dear Eva! a little _girl's_ heart would not have seemed to her large
+enough to contain such a rapture.
+
+Our party has been augmented since breakfast by the arrival of several
+families of Donaldsons--some of whom live at too great a distance for
+visits at any other time than Christmas, when all who stand in any
+conceivable, or I was about to say inconceivable, degree of relationship
+to the Donaldsons of Donaldson Manor, are expected to be here. Among
+this host of uncles and aunts and cousins, I was really grateful for my
+own prefix of aunt, and I heard Mr. Arlington whisper a request to
+Robert to call him uncle--a title to which I have no doubt he would
+willingly make good his claim.
+
+In the midst of this general hilarity, the religious character of the
+day was not forgotten, and all the family and some of the visitors
+attended the morning services in the church. We know that there are
+those who, doubting the testimony on which the Christian world has
+agreed to observe the 25th of December as the birthday into our mortal
+life of the world's Saviour, and the era from which man may date his
+hopes of a happy immortality, consider the religious observances of this
+day a sheer superstition. On such a controversy I could say but little,
+and I should be very unwilling so say that little here; but I would ask
+if it can be wrong in the opinion of any--nay, if it be not right, very
+right, in the opinion of all--to celebrate once in the year an event so
+solemn and so joyous to our race; and whether any day can be better for
+such a purpose, than that which has been for centuries associated with
+it wherever the Angel's song of "Peace on earth and good will to man"
+has been heard? Another class of objectors there are who complain that a
+day so sacred should be desecrated, as they express it, by revelry and
+mirth. To their objection I should not have a word of reply, if it were
+limited to a condemnation of that wild uproar and senseless jollity by
+which men sometimes make fools or brutes of themselves; but when they
+condemn the cheerfulness that has its home and its birthplace in a
+grateful heart, when they frown upon the happy family gathering once
+more within the old walls that had echoed to their childish gambols,
+calling up by the spells of association, from the dim recesses of the
+past, the very tones and looks of the mother that watched their cradled
+sleep, and the father that guided their first tottering steps in the
+pursuit of truth; tones and looks by which, if by any thing, the cold,
+selfish spirit of the world to whose dominion they have yielded, may be
+exorcised, and the loving and generous spirit of their earlier life may
+again enter within them; when they declare these things inconsistent
+with the Christian's joyful commemoration of that event to which he owes
+his earthly blessings as well as his heavenly hopes. I can only pity
+them for their want of harmony with the Great Spirit of the Universe,
+the spirit of Love and Joy.
+
+Our Christmas was continued and concluded in the same spirit in which it
+was commenced--the spirit of kindly affection to Man and devout
+gratitude to Heaven. Those guests whose homes were distant remained for
+the night, and in the evening, before any of our party had left us,
+Col. Donaldson called on Robert Dudley to repeat a poem winch he had
+learned at his request for the occasion. Robert was a little abashed at
+first at being brought forward so conspicuously; but he is a manly,
+intelligent boy, and his voice soon gathered strength and firmness, and
+his eyes lost their downward tendency, and kindled with earnest feeling,
+as he recited those beautiful lines of Charles Sprague, entitled--
+
+
+THE FAMILY MEETING.
+
+          We are all here!
+          Father, mother,
+          Sister, brother,
+    All who hold each other dear.
+    Each chair is fill'd, we're all at home,
+    To-night let no cold stranger come;
+    It is not often thus around
+    Our own familiar hearth we're found.
+    Bless, then, the meeting and the spot;
+    For once be every care forgot;
+    Let gentle Peace assert her power,
+    And kind affection rule the hour;
+          We're all--all here.
+
+          We're NOT all here!
+    Some are away--the dead ones dear,
+    Who throng'd with us this ancient hearth,
+    And gave the hour to guiltless mirth.
+    Fate, with a stern, relentless hand,
+    Look'd in and thinn'd our little band:
+    Some like a night-flash pass'd away,
+    And some sank, lingering, day by day;
+    The quiet grave-yard--some lie there--
+    And cruel Ocean has his share--
+          We're _not_ all here.
+
+          We _are_ all here!
+    Even they--the dead--though dead so dear.
+    Fond Memory, to her duty true,
+    Brings back their faded forms to view.
+    How life-like, through the mist of years,
+    Each well-remember'd face appears!
+    We see them as in times long past,
+    From each to each kind looks are cast,
+    We hear their words, their smiles behold,
+    They're round us as they were of old--
+          We _are_ all here.
+
+          We are all here!
+          Father, mother,
+          Sister, brother,
+    You that I love with love so dear.
+    This may not long of us be said,
+    Soon must we join the gather'd dead,
+    And by the hearth we now sit round
+    Some other circle will be found.
+    Oh, then, that wisdom may we know,
+    Which yields a life of peace below!
+    So, in the world to follow this,
+    May each repeat, in words of bliss.
+          We're all--all _here_!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+
+Yesterday we were more than usually still after the enjoyment of
+Christmas, and a little quiet chit-chat seemed all of which we were
+capable, but to-day every thing about us and within us began to settle
+into its usual form, and this evening there was a general call for our
+accustomed entertainment. I was inexorable to all entreaties, and Mr.
+Arlington was compelled to open his portfolio for our gratification.
+
+"Select your subject," he said with a smile, as he drew forth sketch
+after sketch and spread them on the table before us. "I have no story to
+tell of any of them."
+
+"I select this," said Annie, as she held up a drawing, entitled, "The
+Exiled Hebrews."
+
+"Ah!" said Mr. Arlington, as he glanced at it, "you have chosen well;
+the subject is interesting."
+
+"But can you really tell us nothing of these figures, so noble yet so
+touching in their aspect?"
+
+"No; nothing of _them_. I could tell you indeed of a _dying_ Hebrew,
+whose portrait you may imagine you have before you in that turbaned old
+gentleman."
+
+"Well, let us hear it."
+
+
+THE DYING HEBREW.
+
+    A HEBREW knelt in the dying light,
+      His eye was dim and cold,
+    The hair on his brow was silver white,
+      And his blood was thin and old.
+    He lifted his eye to his latest sun,
+    For he felt that his pilgrimage was done,
+    And as he saw God's shadow[3] there,
+    His spirit pour'd itself in prayer.
+    "I come unto Death's second birth
+      Beneath a stranger air,
+    A pilgrim on a chill, cold earth,
+      As all my fathers were;
+    And _men_ have stamp'd me with a _curse_,
+      I feel it is not _Thine_.
+    Thy mercy, like yon sun, was made
+      On me, as all to shine;
+    And therefore dare I lift mine eye
+    Through that to Thee, before I die.
+    In this great temple, built by Thee,
+      Whose altars are divine,
+    Beneath yon lamp that ceaselessly
+      Lights up Thine own true shrine,
+    Take this my latest sacrifice,
+      Look down and make this sod
+    Holy as that where long ago
+      The Hebrew met his God.
+    I have not caused the widow's tears,
+      Nor dimm'd the orphan's eye,
+    I have not stain'd the virgin's years,
+      Nor mock'd the mourner's cry.
+    The songs of Zion in my ear
+      Have ever been most sweet,
+    And always when I felt Thee near,
+      My shoes were 'off my feet.'
+
+    I have known Thee in the whirlwind,
+      I have known Thee on the hill,
+    I have known Thee in the voice of birds,
+      In the music of the rill.
+    I dreamt Thee in the shadow,
+      I saw Thee in the light,
+    I heard Thee in the thunder-peal,
+      And worshipp'd in the night.
+    All beauty, while it spoke of Thee,
+      Still made my heart rejoice,
+    And my spirit bow'd within itself
+      To hear 'Thy still, small voice.'
+    I have not felt myself a thing
+      Far from Thy presence driven,
+    By flaming sword or waving wing
+      Cut off from Thee and heaven.
+    Must I the whirlwind reap, because,
+      My fathers sow'd the storm?
+    Or shrink because another sinn'd,
+      Beneath Thy red, right arm?
+    Oh! much of this we dimly scan,
+      And much is all unknown,
+    I will not take my _curse_ from _man_,
+      I turn to THEE alone.
+    Oh! bid my fainting spirit live,
+      And what is dark, reveal,
+    And what is evil--oh, forgive!
+      And what is broken--heal.
+    And cleanse my spirit from above,
+    In the deep Jordan of Thy love!
+    I know not if the Christian's heaven
+      Shall be the same as mine,
+    I only ask to be forgiven,
+      And taken home to THINE.
+    I weary on a far, dim strand,
+      Whose mansions are as tombs,
+    And long to find the Father-land,
+      Where there are many homes.
+    Oh! grant of all yon shining throngs
+      Some dim and distant star,
+    Where Judah's lost and scatter'd sons
+      May worship from afar!
+    When all earth's myriad harps shall meet
+      In choral praise and prayer,
+    Shall Zion's harp, of old so sweet,
+      Alone be wanting there?
+    Yet place me in the lowest seat,
+      Though I, as now, lie there,
+    The Christian's jest--the Christian's scorn,
+      Still let me see and hear,
+    From some bright mansion in the sky,
+    Thy loved ones and their melody."
+
+    The sun goes down with sudden gleam,
+    And beautiful as a lovely dream,
+      And silently as air,
+    The vision of a dark-eyed girl
+      With long and raven hair,
+    Glides in as guardian spirits glide,
+    And lo! is standing by his side,
+    As if her sudden presence there
+    Was sent in answer to his prayer.
+    Oh! say they not that angels tread
+    Around the good man's dying bed?
+    His child--his sweet and sinless child,
+      And as he gazed on her,
+    He knew his God was reconciled,
+      And this the messenger.
+    As sure as God had hung on high
+    His promise-bow before his eye,
+    Earth's purest hopes were o'er him flung,
+      To point his heaven-ward faith,
+    And life's most holy feelings strung
+      To sing him into death.
+    And on his daughter's stainless breast,
+    The dying Hebrew sought his rest.[4]
+
+"Have I fulfilled my task?" asked Mr. Arlington, as he touched the
+picture on which Annie's eyes were still fixed.
+
+"By no means," she answered; "the poem is beautiful; but is the drawing
+from your own pencil?"
+
+"Oh, no! It is a copy of a copy. The original is by Biederrmanns, and
+may be seen, I believe, in the Dresden Gallery. This sketch was made
+from a copy in the possession of my friend, Mr. Michael Grahame. He had
+it done while he was in Russia. By-the-by--if I had Aunt Nancy's powers
+as a _raconteur_, I think I could interest you in the history of Mr. and
+Mrs. Grahame."
+
+"Let us have it," exclaimed Col. Donaldson; "we will be lenient in our
+criticisms; and should we ever call on you to give it to severer
+critics, Aunt Nancy will dress it up for you."
+
+Mr. Arlington in vain sought to excuse himself.
+
+"It is of no use," cried Col. Donaldson; "I am a thoroughbred story
+hunter, and now you have shown me the game, I must have it."
+
+To Mr. Arlington, therefore, the reader is indebted for the following
+incidents, though I have fulfilled the promise made for me by the
+Colonel, and dressed it up a little for its present appearance. I have
+called the narrative thus prepared,
+
+
+"ONLY A MECHANIC."
+
+With beauty, wealth, an accomplished education, and a home around which
+clustered all the warm affections and graceful amenities of life, Lilian
+Devoe was considered by her acquaintances as one of fortune's most
+favored children. Yet in Lilian's bright sky there was a cloud, though
+it was perceptible to none but herself. She was the daughter of an
+Englishman, who, on his arrival in America with a sickly wife and infant
+child, had esteemed himself fortunate in obtaining the situation of
+farm-steward, or bailiff, at Mr. Trevanion's country-seat, near
+New-York.
+
+"This is a pleasant home, Gerald," said Mrs. Devoe, on the day she took
+possession of her small but neat cottage, as she stood with him beneath
+a porch embowered with honey-suckle, and looked out upon a scene to
+which hill and dale and river combined to give enchantment.
+
+"If you can be well and happy in it, love, I will try and forget that I
+had a right to a better," said Gerald Devoe, with a grave yet tender
+smile, as he drew his invalid wife close to his side.
+
+Grave, Gerald Devoe always was; and none wondered at it who knew his
+early history. His family belonged to the gentry of England, and he had
+been born to an inheritance sufficient to support him respectably in
+that class. His mother, from whom he derived a sound judgment, and a
+firm and vigorous mind, died while he was yet a child, leaving his weak
+and self-indulgent father to the management of a roguish attorney, by
+whose aid he made the future maintain the present, till, at his death,
+little was left to Gerald beyond the bare walls of his paternal home and
+the small park by which it was surrounded. He had been, for two years
+before this time, married to one who had brought him little wealth, and
+whose delicate health seemed to demand the luxuries which he could no
+longer afford. For her sake, far more than for his own--even more than
+for that of his cherished child--he shrank from the new condition under
+which life was presenting itself to him. When at length his resources
+utterly failed, and he could no longer veil the truth from his wife, her
+gentle tender smile, her confiding caress, and above all, her ready
+inquiry into his plans for the future, and her earnest effort to aid him
+in bringing the chaos of his mind into order, taught him that there lies
+in woman's affections a source of strength equal to all the requirements
+of those who have won their way to that hidden fountain. It was by her
+advice that, instead of wasting his energies in the vain struggle to
+maintain his present position, he determined to carve out for himself a
+new life in another land. The first step towards the fulfilment of this
+resolution was also the most painful. It was the sacrifice of his home,
+the home of his childhood, his youth, his manhood, with which all that
+was dear in the present or tender in the past was associated. And yet
+higher claims it had. It had been the home of his fathers. For three
+hundred years those walls had owned a Devoe for their master, and now
+they must pass into a stranger's hands, and he and his must go forth
+with no right even to a grave in that soil which had seemed ever an
+inalienable part of himself. It was a stern lesson, but life teaches
+well, and it was learned. He could not turn to the liberal professions
+for support, because he had no means of maintaining himself and his
+family during the preparatory studies. Of farming he knew already
+something, and spent some months in acquiring yet further information
+respecting it, before he sailed from England. The determination and
+energy with which Gerald Devoe had entered on his new career, had won
+for him friends among practical men, and when he left England it was
+with recommendations that insured his success.
+
+It was a fortunate circumstance for Mr. and Mrs. Devoe that Mr.
+Trevanion required a farm-steward on their arrival, for in him and his
+wife they found liberal employers, and persons of true Christian
+benevolence, who, having discovered the superiority of their minds and
+manners to their present station, hesitated not to receive them into
+their circle of friends, when a knowledge of their past history had
+acquainted them with their claims on their sympathy. Howsoever valuable
+the friendship of persons at once so accomplished and so excellent was
+to Mr. and Mrs. Devoe, for their own sakes, they prized it yet more for
+their Lilian's. She was their only child, and their poverty lost its
+last sting when they saw her linked arm in arm with young Anna
+Trevanion, the companion of her lessons and her sports. They could not
+have borne to see her, so lovely in outward form, and with a mind so
+full of intelligence, condemned either to the dreariness of a life
+without companionship, or to the degradation of association with the
+rude and uncultivated. That this feeling was wholly unconnected with any
+false views of their own position, or vain estimation of the claims
+derived from their birth and former condition, was evident from their
+readiness to receive into their friendly regards those in their present
+sphere in whose moral qualities they could confide, and who did not
+repel their courtesies by a rude and coarse manner. There was one of
+this latter class who held a place in their esteem not less exalted than
+that occupied by Mr. Trevanion himself. This was a Scotchman, living
+within two miles of Mr. Trevanion's seat, who found at once an agreeable
+occupation and a respectable support in a garden, from which he supplied
+the markets of New-York with some of their choicest vegetables, and its
+drawing-rooms with some of their choicest bouquets. Mr. Grahame was one
+who, in those early ages when physical endowments constituted the chief
+distinction between men, might have been chosen king of the tribe with
+which he had chanced to be associated. Even now, in this self-styled
+enlightened age, his tall and stalwart frame, his erect carriage, his
+firm and vigorous step, his broad, commanding brow, his bright, keen
+eye, and the firm, frank expression of his whole face, won from every
+beholder an involuntary feeling of respect, which further acquaintance
+only served to deepen. With little of the education of schools, he was a
+man of reading, and, what schools can never make, he was a man of
+thought, and of that sober, practical good sense, and those firm,
+religious principles which are the surest, the only true and safe guides
+in life. Mrs. Grahame was a gentle and lovely woman, with an eye to see
+and a heart to feel her husband's excellences. And a worthy son of such
+a father was Michael Grahame, the only child of this excellent pair. He
+was six years older than Lilian Devoe, and having no sister of his own,
+had been her playfellow and protector from her cradle. Even Anna
+Trevanion could not rival Michael in Lilian's heart, nor all the
+luxuries of Trevanion Hall compete with the delight of wandering with
+him through the gardens of Mossgiel, listening to his history of the
+various plants--for Michael had learned from his father where most of
+them had first been found, and how and by whom they had been introduced
+to their present abodes--and learning from him the chief points of
+distinction between the different tribes of the vegetable world, and
+many other things of which older people are often ignorant. But
+acquainted as Michael was with the inhabitants of the garden, they did
+not afford him his most vivid enjoyment. Mechanical pursuits were his
+passion.
+
+Before Lilian was four years old, she had ridden in a carriage of his
+construction, which he boasted the most unskilful hand on the most
+unequal road could not, except from _malice prepense_, upset. To see
+Michael a clergyman, or, if that might not be, a lawyer, was Mrs.
+Grahame's dream of life; but when she whispered it to her husband, he
+shook his head, with a grave smile, and pointed to the boy, who stood
+near, putting the finishing touch to what he called his "magical glass."
+This was the case of an old spy-glass, in which he had so disposed
+several mirrors, made of a toilet-glass long since broken, as to enable
+the person using the instrument to see objects in a very different
+direction from that to which it appeared to be directed. The fond
+parents watched his movements in silence for a few minutes: suddenly he
+called in a glad voice, "Here, father, come and look through my magical
+glass."
+
+Mr. Grahame obeyed the summons, saying to his wife, "He'll make a good
+mechanic--better not spoil that, for a poor clergyman or lawyer."
+
+Michael had the advantage of the best schools to which his father could
+gain access; and his teachers joined in declaring that his father might
+make what he would of him, but his own inclination for mechanics
+continued as fixed as ever, and Mr. Grahame was equally fixed in his
+determination to let his inclination decide his career.
+
+"Let him be what he will, he must be something above the ordinary, or
+your high people will remember against him that his father was a
+gardener," said Mr. Grahame to his wife; "and you may be sure he'll rise
+highest in what he loves."
+
+At sixteen Michael Grahame commenced his apprenticeship to the trade of
+a mathematical instrument maker, to the perfect satisfaction of himself
+and his father, the secret annoyance of his mother, and the openly
+expressed chagrin of Lilian Devoe, who had shared all Mrs. Grahame's
+ambitious hopes for her friend. From this period Lilian became the
+inseparable companion of the young Trevanions, their only rival in her
+heart being removed from her circle. She still considered Michael as
+greatly superior to them, and indeed to all others, in personal
+attributes, but she could seldom enjoy his society, since he resided in
+the city; and as she approached to womanhood, and he exchanged the
+vivacity of the boy for the man's thoughtful brow and more controlled
+expression of feeling, their manner in their occasional interviews
+assumed a formality which made it a poor interpreter of her heart's true
+emotions.
+
+At seventeen Lilian Devoe was an orphan, left to the guardianship of Mr.
+Trevanion and Mr. Grahame, with a fortune which secured to her a
+prospect of all the comforts, and many of the elegancies of life. This
+fortune was the result of a successful speculation made by Mr. Devoe
+about a year before his death, with the little sum, which, by judicious
+management, he had saved from his salary during many years. It was a sum
+too small to secure to his daughter a maintenance in case of his death,
+and with a trembling and almost despairing heart he had thrown it on the
+troubled sea of speculation. From that hour he knew no peace. His life
+was probably shortened by his anxieties, and when he received the
+assurance of the successful issue of his experiment, he had but a few
+days to live. Before his death, Mr. Trevanion had spoken very kindly to
+him, and both he and Mrs. Trevanion had expressed the most friendly
+interest in Lilian, and had offered to receive her as a member of their
+own family, when her "home should be left unto her desolate." Mr.
+Grahame and his kind-hearted wife had already made the same offer, and
+Mr. Devoe, with the warmest expression of gratitude, commended his
+daughter to the guardianship of both his friends. It was winter when Mr.
+Devoe died--the Trevanions were in the city, and, by her own wish,
+Lilian passed the first few months of her orphanage at the cottage of
+Mr. Grahame. Never was an orphan more tenderly received, more dearly
+cherished.
+
+Michael Grahame had now acquired his trade, and had entered into an
+already established and profitable business with his former master, who
+predicted that with his application, and his unusual talent and his
+delight both in the theory of mechanics and the actual development of
+that theory in practice, he must one day acquire a high reputation.
+Perhaps this opinion might have been in some degree shaken by the long
+and frequent holidays of his young partner during this winter. Michael
+had never been so much at home since he left it, a boy of sixteen, and
+before the winter had passed, all formality between him and Lilian had
+vanished. Again they wandered together, as in childhood, through the
+garden walks; again Lilian learned to regard him, not only as a loved
+friend, but as a guide and protector.
+
+Mrs. Grahame saw the growth of these feelings with delight. She loved
+Lilian, and gave the highest proof of her esteem for her, in believing
+her worthy of her son. Mr. Grahame was less satisfied. He, too, loved
+Lilian, and would have welcomed her to his heart as a daughter, but her
+lately acquired fortune, and her connection with the Trevanion family,
+gave her a right to higher expectations in marriage, than to become the
+wife of a mechanic of very moderate fortunes, howsoever great was his
+ability, or howsoever distinguished his personal qualities. No--Mr.
+Grahame was not satisfied, and nothing but his confidence in Michael
+kept him silent. The confidence was not misplaced.
+
+The news of Lilian's fortune, and of Mr. and Mrs. Trevanion's offer to
+receive her into their family, had sent a sharp pang through the heart
+of Michael Grahame, which had taught him the true character of his
+attachment to her.
+
+"She is removed from my world--she can be nothing to me now," was the
+first stern whisper of his heart, which was modified after two or three
+interviews into--"She can only be a dear friend and sister. I must never
+think of her in any other light." And, devoted as he had been to her
+through the winter, no word, no look had told of love less calm or more
+exacting than this. But there came a time when the quick blush on
+Lilian's cheek at his approach, the tremor of her little hand as he
+clasped it, told that she shared his feeling, without his power of
+self-control. Then came the hour of trial to Michael Grahame's nature.
+Self-immolation were easy in comparison with the infliction of one pang
+on her. And wherefore should either suffer? Was it not a false sentiment
+that denied to her the right to decide for herself, between those shows
+and fashions which the world most prizes, and the indulgence of the
+purest and sweetest affections of our nature? Was he not in truth
+sacrificing her happiness to his own pride? It was a question which he
+dared not answer for himself, and he applied to his father, in whose
+high principles and clear judgment he placed implicit confidence. Mr.
+Grahame was too shrewd, and in this case too interested an observer to
+be unprepared for his son's avowal of his past feelings and present
+perplexities.
+
+"You are right, my son," he replied to his appeal; "It is Lilian's right
+to decide for herself on that which will constitute her own happiness."
+
+"Then I may speak to her--I may tell her--"
+
+"All you desire that she should know," said Mr. Grahame, gently, "when
+Lilian has had an opportunity of knowing what she must sacrifice in
+accepting you."
+
+"True--true--I will ask no promise from her--nay--I will accept none--I
+will only assure her that should the world fail to fill her heart, the
+truest and most devoted love awaits her here."
+
+"And in listening to that assurance, without rebuking it, a delicate
+woman would feel that she had pledged herself."
+
+Michael Grahame's brow contracted, and his voice faltered slightly as,
+after a moment's thoughtful pause, he asked, "What then would you have
+me do?"
+
+"Nothing at present--Lilian will soon leave us, and at Mr. Trevanion's
+she will see quite another kind of life--a life which, with her fortune
+and their friendship, may be hers, but which she must give up should she
+become the wife of a mechanic and the daughter-in-law of a gardener. Let
+her see this life, my boy, and then let her choose between you and it."
+
+"And how can I hope that she will continue to regard me with kindness if
+I suffer her to depart without any expression of interest in her?"
+
+"Any expression of interest! I do not wish you to be colder to her than
+you have hitherto been, and I am much mistaken if Lilian would exchange
+your _brotherly_ affection for all the gewgaws in life."
+
+"I will endeavor to take your advice, but I hope I shall not be tried
+too long," were the concluding words of Michael Grahame, as he turned
+from his father to seek composure in a solitary walk. When he had
+returned, he found that his father had gone to the city--an unusual
+circumstance at that season, and one which he could not afterwards avoid
+connecting with a letter which Lilian received the next day from Anna
+Trevanion, before she had risen from the breakfast table.
+
+"Papa," wrote Miss Trevanion, "has made me perfectly happy, dear Lilian,
+by declaring that he cannot consent to leave you longer in the country.
+I hope you will not find it very difficult to obey his commands in the
+present instance, which are, that you shall be ready at noon to-morrow
+to accompany him to the city, where you will find Mamma and your Anna,
+waiting to receive you with open arms."
+
+"What is the matter, Lilian? Does your letter bring you bad news?" asked
+Mrs. Grahame, as she saw the dejected countenance with which Lilian sat
+gazing on these few lines.
+
+Michael said nothing, but, as Lilian looked up to answer Mrs. Grahame,
+she saw that his eyes were fixed upon her, and the blood rushed to her
+temples, while she said, "It is only a note from Anna Trevanion, to say
+that her father is coming for me to-day at noon,--and--and--" Lilian
+could go no farther--her voice faltered, and she burst into tears.
+Michael Grahame started from his chair, but a movement of his father's
+arm prevented his approaching Lilian, and unable to endure the scene, he
+rushed from the room, while his mother, folding the weeping girl in her
+arms, exclaimed, "Don't cry, Lilian, Mr. Trevanion will not certainly
+make you go with him, if you do not wish it."
+
+"Hush, hush, good wife," said the kind but firm voice of Mr. Grahame;
+"Lilian must not be so ungracious to such friends as Mr. and Mrs.
+Trevanion, as to refuse to go to them when they wish her. Go, my dear
+child," he continued, laying his hand on her bent head; "and remember
+that no day will be so happy for us as that in which you come back--if
+indeed," he added, more gayly, "you can come back to such an humble
+home, after living among great folks."
+
+There was another voice for which Lilian listened, but she listened in
+vain. Her first feeling on perceiving that Michael Grahame had left the
+room while she lay weeping in his mother's arms was very bitter, but
+Mrs. Grahame soothed her by saying, "Michael couldn't bear to see you
+crying, dear, so when his father wouldn't let him speak to you, he
+jumped up and ran off. Poor Michael! sadly enough he'll miss you."
+
+In about an hour, Michael again sought Lilian, bringing with him three
+bouquets of hot-house flowers. Two of these had been arranged by his
+father for Mrs. and Miss Trevanion, and the other was of flowers which
+he had himself selected for Lilian. She stood beside him while he first
+wrapped the stems of the flowers in a wet sponge, and then put them into
+a box, to defend them from the cold. This was done, and the box handed
+to Lilian without a word. As she took it, she asked in a low tone, and
+turning away to hide her embarrassment as she spoke, "When shall I see
+you in New-York?"
+
+"I shall be in New-York very soon," he replied; "perhaps to-morrow--but
+we move there in such different spheres, Lilian, that I do not know when
+we shall meet."
+
+"Perhaps never," said Lilian, endeavoring, not very successfully, to
+steady her voice and speak with _nonchalance_, "unless you are willing
+to leave what you call your sphere and seek me in mine."
+
+"I only need your permission to do so with delight,"--and so charming
+had her evident emotion made her in his eyes, that Michael could not
+refrain from pressing her hand to his lips. There was no anger in the
+flush which this action brought to Lilian's cheek.
+
+Mr. Trevanion was punctual to the hour of his appointment, and descended
+from his carriage only to hand Lilian into it.
+
+"You will call sometimes to see how your ward does," he said
+good-humoredly to the elder Mr. Grahame, but to Michael not a word. He
+had determined to discourage, and, if possible, completely to overthrow
+any intimacy which Mr. Grahame had acknowledged to him was not
+unattended with danger. Mr. Trevanion was a man of liberal mind, yet he
+was not wholly free from the prejudices of his class, which made the
+highest happiness the result of the highest social position. There is in
+the mind of man so unconquerable a desire for the unattainable, that it
+is not wonderful perhaps that this opinion should be entertained by
+those who do not occupy that position; but to those who do, we should
+suppose its fallacy would stand out too glaringly to be doubted or
+denied. We are far from denying the advantages of rank and wealth: but
+we view them not as an end, but as a means for the attainment of an end,
+and that end, not happiness, except as happiness is indissolubly
+connected with the perfection of our own powers, and with the extension
+of our usefulness to others. He who, like Michael Grahame, can command
+the means of intellectual cultivation and refinement, and a fair arena
+for the exercise of his powers, when thus cultivated, need not envy the
+possessor of larger fortune and higher station with his weightier
+responsibilities and greater temptations.
+
+Michael Grahame understood Mr. Trevanion's coolness, but he was not one
+to retreat from an unfought field. Three days had scarcely given to
+Lilian the feeling of ease in her new home, when he called on her. He
+had chosen morning, as the hour when others would be the least likely to
+dispute her attention with him. She was at home--Mrs. and Miss Trevanion
+were out--and a long _tete-a-tete_ almost reconciled him to her new
+abode. He had not forgotten his father's advice, nor taken the seal
+from his lips. He might not speak to her of love, but the nicest honor
+did not forbid him to show her the true sympathy and affection of a
+friend. In a few days he called again, and at the same hour; Miss Devoe
+was not at home, she had gone out with Mrs. and Miss Trevanion. Again
+the next day he came at the same hour, and the answer was the same. He
+called in the afternoon at five o'clock, and she was at dinner; at seven
+o'clock, she was preparing for an evening party, and begged he would
+excuse her. "I will seek no more," said Michael Grahame at length, with
+proud determination, "to enter the charmed circle which shuts her from
+me in the city. They cannot keep her to themselves always, and if
+Lilian's heart be what I deem it, it will take more than a few months of
+absence to efface from it the memories of years."
+
+A few days only after this determination, Lilian was called down at nine
+o'clock in the morning, to see Mr. Grahame. Early as it was, the furtive
+glance towards her mirror and the hasty adjustment of her ringlets,
+might have suggested to an observer, that she hoped to receive in her
+visitor one who had an eye for beauty; and the sudden change that passed
+over her countenance as she entered the parlor in which her two
+guardians sat in earnest talk, would have awakened strong suspicions
+that she did not see _the Mr. Grahame_ whom she had expected. Mr.
+Trevanion rose as she entered, and shaking hands with Mr. Grahame, said
+kindly, "I leave you with Lilian, Mr. Grahame, but I hope to see you
+again at dinner--we dine at five."
+
+"Thank you, sir, but I hope to be taking tea with my good woman at home
+at that hour."
+
+"Well, I shall hope to see you again soon--you must call often and see
+your friend Lilian."
+
+"Why, I've been thinking, sir, that that would hardly be best for any of
+us--and to tell the truth, I came to-day to talk with Lilian about that
+very thing, and if you please, I have no objection that you should hear
+what I have to say."
+
+Mr. Trevanion seated himself again, and Lilian placing herself on the
+sofa beside him, Mr. Grahame resumed:--"It seems to me, sir, that Lilian
+has to choose between two kinds of life, which, should she try to put
+them together will only spoil one another, and I want her to have a fair
+chance to judge between them. Now, you know, sir, I speak the truth when
+I say that there are many among the fine gay people whom Lilian will
+meet at your house, who would look down upon her for having such friends
+as I and my wife, or even my son, though President B---- says he will be
+a distinguished man yet."
+
+"I do not care for such people, or for what they think," exclaimed
+Lilian indignantly.
+
+"I dare say not, my dear child, and yet they are people who are thought
+a great deal of, and whom, if you are to live amongst them, it would be
+worth your while to please--but that isn't my main point, Lilian. What I
+want to say, though I seem to be long coming at it, is, that I want you
+to see this gay life that fine folks in the city lead, at its
+best--without any such drawbacks as it would have for you, if you were
+suspected of having ungenteel acquaintances, and so we shall none of us
+come to see you--barring you should be sick, or something else happen to
+make you want us--until you make a fair trial, for six months at least,
+of this life--then should the beautiful, rich Miss Devoe like the old
+gardener and his family well enough to come and see them, she will learn
+how fondly and truly they love their Lilian."
+
+"I had hoped you loved her too well to give her up so needlessly for six
+months, or even for one month," said Lilian, tears rushing to her eyes.
+
+"Ask Mr. Trevanion if I am not right in what I have said, my dear
+child," said Mr. Grahame tenderly.
+
+"I will not dispute the correctness of your principles in the main, Mr.
+Grahame, but I hope you do not think that all Lilian's _fine_
+acquaintances as you call them, would be so unjust in their judgment as
+to think the less of her for her love of you, or to undervalue you on
+account of your position in life."
+
+"No sir--no sir--I don't think so of all--but I want Lilian to see this
+life without even one little cloud upon it--such a cloud as the being
+looked down upon, though it were by people she didn't greatly admire,
+would make. We have our pride too, sir, and we want Lilian to try for
+herself whether our friendship, with all its good and its bad, be worth
+keeping. She is too good and affectionate, we know, to shake off old
+friends that love her, even if they become troublesome--but we will draw
+ourselves off, and then she will be free to come back to us or not, as
+she pleases. Now, sir, tell me frankly, if you think me wrong."
+
+"Not wrong in principle, as I said before, Mr. Grahame, but--excuse
+me--you required me to be frank--would it not have been better to have
+made this withdrawal gradually and quietly, in such a manner that Lilian
+would not have noticed it, instead of giving her the pain of this abrupt
+severance of the ties between you?"
+
+"A great deal better, sir," said Mr. Grahame, coloring with wonderful
+feeling, and fixing his clear, keen eye full on Mr. Trevanion,--"a great
+deal better if I wished to sever those ties--a great deal better if I
+would have Lilian believe that we had grown cold and indifferent to her.
+But, my dear child," and he turned to her, and taking both her hands,
+spoke very earnestly--"believe me, when I tell you, that you will find
+few among those who see you every day, that love you so warmly as the
+friends who have loved you from your birth, and who now stand away from
+you only because they will not be in the way of what the world considers
+higher fortunes for you if you desire them. To leave you free to choose
+for yourself, is the strongest proof of love we could give you, and I
+repeat, when you have tried all that this new life has to give
+you--tried it for six months--if your heart still turns with its old
+love to those early friends, you will give them joy indeed."
+
+Mr. Grahame paused, but neither Mr. Trevanion nor Lilian attempted to
+reply to him for some minutes--at length she raised her eyes, and said,
+
+"You did not think of this when I left you--what has changed your
+mind--I will not say your _heart_--towards me?"
+
+"You are right not to say our hearts, Lilian; but, indeed, even my mind
+has not been changed--I thought then as I think now--but I could not
+persuade others of our family to think with me. Now, however, they all
+feel that they cannot keep up their old friendly intercourse with you
+without mortification to themselves, and pain to you. And, as I said
+before, we were none of us willing to withdraw from that intercourse
+without giving you our reasons for it, lest you should think we had
+grown indifferent to you."
+
+Mr. Grahame soon departed, leaving Lilian saddened and Mr. Trevanion
+perplexed by his visit. "Singular old man!" this gentleman exclaimed to
+himself more than once, in reflecting on all that Mr. Grahame had said;
+so difficult is it for those whose minds have been forced into the
+strait forms of conventionalism to comprehend the dictates of
+untrammelled common sense, on points which that conventionalism
+undertakes to control. One thing at least Mr. Trevanion did
+comprehend--that on the succeeding six months depended Lilian's choice
+of her position and associates for life.
+
+"So far Mr. Grahame is right Lilian," he said to her, "you cannot have a
+place at once in two such different spheres as his and ours. I always
+knew that to be impossible."
+
+"You called my father friend," said Lilian, with unusual boldness.
+
+"Your father was a gentleman by birth and breeding."
+
+"And he has told me," persisted Lilian, "that he has never known more
+true refinement and even nobility of mind than in Mr. Grahame."
+
+"I agree with him--of _mind_, mark--but there is a want of conventional
+refinement which would make itself felt in society."
+
+"There is no want even of this in his son," said Lilian with a trembling
+voice, and turning away to hide the blush that burned upon her cheek.
+
+"Probably not, for Michael Grahame has been for years at the best
+schools, with the sons of our first families--but we cannot separate him
+from his father, and from the associates which his trade has given him."
+
+Neither Mr. Trevanion nor Lilian ever spoke on this subject again; but
+the former resolved that no effort should be lost on his part to restore
+one so beautiful and so accomplished as his young ward to what he
+considered her true place in society, and the latter was as firmly
+determined that nothing should make her forgetful of the friends of her
+childhood. In furtherance of this resolve, Mr. Trevanion, instead of
+retiring to his country-seat with his family on the approach of summer,
+sent his younger children thither under the care of their faithful and
+intelligent nurse; and with Mrs. and Miss Trevanion, and Lilian, set out
+for Saratoga, at that season the great focus of fashion. Mrs. Trevanion,
+entering fully into his designs, had attended to Lilian's equipments for
+this important campaign, with no less care than to Anna's, and the
+result equalled their fondest expectations. Lilian was _the beauty_,
+_the heiress_, the belle of the season. Report exaggerated her fortune,
+appended all sorts of romantic incidents to her history and her
+connection with the Trevanions, and thus increased the interest which
+her own beauty and modest elegance was calculated to awaken. Admirers
+crowded around her, and to render her triumph complete, one who had
+hitherto found no charms in America worthy his homage, bowed at her
+shrine. This was Mr. Derwent, an Englishman of high birth and large
+fortune, whose elegant exterior, and the perfect _savoir faire_ which
+marked his manners, made him at Saratoga,
+
+                "The observed of all observers,
+    The glass of fashion and the mould of form."
+
+Mr. Trevanion looked on with scarcely concealed delight.
+
+"Why, father! do you wish to see Lilian leave us for England?" cried
+Anna Trevanion, to whom he had expressed his satisfaction.
+
+"Certainly, my daughter, if only in that way I can see her take that
+position which is hers by inheritance, and from which only her father's
+misfortunes have estranged her."
+
+But Mr. Trevanion's hopes of so desirable a termination of his cares for
+Lilian faded, as he saw the reserve with which she met the attentions of
+her admirers--not excepting even the admired Mr. Derwent.
+
+"Among the beauties at this place, Miss L---- D----, the ward of Mr.
+T----, stands unrivalled. She is an heiress as well as a beauty, but the
+report is that both the fortune and the beauty are to be borne to
+another land, in the possession of the Honorable Mr. D----, whose
+personal qualities, united to his station and fortune, render him, in
+the opinion of the ladies at least, irresistible."
+
+Such was the paragraph in a New-York daily paper, which Mr. Trevanion
+one morning handed to Lilian with a smile. She read it silence, and laid
+it down without a comment, except that which was furnished by the proud
+erection of her figure, and the almost scornful curl of her lip.
+
+When next she met Mr. Derwent, Mr. Trevanion's eye was on her, for he
+thought, "She cannot preserve her perfect indifference of manner with
+the consciousness that their names have been thus associated." He was
+mistaken. The color on Lilian's cheek deepened not at Mr. Derwent's
+approach, nor did her hand tremble as she laid it upon the arm he
+offered in attending her to dinner. "Her heart must be already
+occupied," said Mr. Trevanion to himself, and perhaps he was right in
+believing that nothing but a deep and true affection--one which was
+founded on no adventitious circumstances, but on the immovable basis of
+esteem--could have enabled her to resist the blandishments which
+surrounded her in her present position. But she did resist them, and
+still, from the luxurious elegancies, the gay entertainments and the
+flatteries of fashionable life, her heart turned with undiminished
+tenderness to the tranquil shades of Mossgiel, and still paid there its
+willing homage to the loftiest intellect and the noblest heart, in her
+estimation, with which earth was blessed.
+
+September, with its cool, invigorating freshness, had come, when Mr.
+Trevanion's family returned to the city. To Lilian's great, though
+unspoken disappointment, the children met them there, and no thought
+seemed to be entertained of a visit to the country. Carefully she had
+kept the date of Mr. Grahame's conversation, in which he had demanded
+that she should make a six months' trial of life, freed from the
+associations which her early poverty had fastened on her. In a few weeks
+after her return to New-York, the six months were completed. On the day
+preceding its exact completion, Lilian expressed to Mr. Trevanion her
+wish to visit Mossgiel. "It is now six months," she said with a blush
+and a smile, "since I saw Mr. Grahame."
+
+Whatever might have been Mr. Trevanion's wishes for his ward, he had
+neither the right nor the will to control her actions, and he not only
+consented to her going, but went down with her himself to Trevanion
+Hall, where they arrived late in the evening.
+
+Lilian knew that the inhabitants of Mossgiel kept early hours, and the
+gay pink and blue and white convolvuluses, which arched the rude gate
+leading from the more public road into the rural lane by which their
+house was approached, had just unfolded their petals, when she rode
+through it on the morning succeeding her arrival at Trevanion Hall. She
+had declined the attendance of a servant, and set off at a brisk canter,
+but soon reined in her horse and proceeded at a slower pace. Hope and
+fear were busy at her heart. Six months! What changes might not have
+taken place in that time! Again Lilian touched her horse with her light
+riding-whip, and rode briskly on till she reached the gate of which we
+have spoken. Here she alighted to open the gate. As she entered the lane
+she saw, not far in advance of her, a boy who had been hired to assist
+Mr. Grahame in the garden. She called to him, and giving him her bridle
+to lead her horse to the stable, walked on herself towards the house,
+which was little more than a hundred yards distant. After walking a few
+steps, she turned to ask, "Are Mr. and Mrs. Grahame well?"
+
+Another question trembled on her lips--but she could not speak it. "If
+_he_ love me, he will be here," she whispered to herself, and again
+passed on. The road wound around the house, and led to the entrance on
+the river front. There was a side gate leading to the garden, and there,
+at that hour, Lilian knew she would most probably meet the elder Mr.
+Grahame, while his wife was almost certain to be found in the dairy, to
+which the same gate would give her access; but the gate was passed with
+a light, quick step, and Lilian entered the house at the front. With a
+fluttering heart, but a steady purpose, she passed on, without meeting
+any one, or hearing a sound, to the usual morning room. The door was
+open; she entered, and her heart throbbed exultingly, for _he_ was
+there. Michael Grahame sat at a table writing. His back was towards the
+door, and her light step had given no notice of her presence. Agitated
+by a thousand commingled emotions, wishing, yet dreading to meet his
+eye, she stood gazing on his face as it was reflected in an opposite
+mirror. It seemed to her paler and graver than of yore. Manhood had
+stamped its lines more deeply on the brow since last they parted. But
+some movement, a sigh, perhaps, from her, has startled him. He raises
+his head, and in the mirror their eyes meet. In that glance her whole
+soul has been revealed, and with one glad cry of "Lilian! my Lilian!" he
+turns, and she is folded in his arms.
+
+There was no more doubt, no more fear, on her part--no concealment on
+his. She had chosen freely and nobly, and she was rewarded by love as
+deep, as devoted, and as unselfish as ever woman inspired, or man felt.
+
+The marriage of Lilian, which took place in three months after her
+return to Mossgiel, could not but excite some interest in the world in
+which she had so lately occupied a conspicuous place. When, however, to
+the great question--"Who is this Mr. Grahame?" the answer, "Nothing but
+a mechanic," was received--the interest soon faded away, and in the
+winter Lilian found herself in New-York, with scarcely an acquaintance,
+except the Trevanions, and she could easily perceive that something of
+pity was mingled with their former kindness. Yet never had Lilian been
+less an object of pity. Every day increased not only her affection to
+her husband, but her pride in him, by revealing to her more of his high
+powers and noble qualities. Those powers had received a new spring from
+his desire to prove himself worthy of his cherished wife. He had long
+been occupied with a problem whose solution, he believed, would enable
+him to increase greatly both the speed and safety of steam navigation.
+In the early part of the winter succeeding his marriage, with a glad
+spirit, with which Lilian fully sympathized, he cried "Eureka." Before
+the winter concluded he had been to Washington, and explaining to the
+officers of our own government the importance of his invention, sought
+permission to test it on a government vessel. After many delays, with
+that short-sighted policy which cannot look beyond the present expense
+to the overpaying results, the proposition was declined. During his stay
+in Washington, his object had become noised abroad, and the Russian
+Minister had opened a correspondence with him and with his own court on
+the subject. The result of this correspondence was, that in the
+following spring Michael Grahame sailed for Russia, to test his
+invention first in the service of its emperor. He was accompanied by
+Lilian. Their departure and its object were talked of for awhile, but
+soon ceased to be remembered, except by men of science, and those
+immediately interested in the result of his experiment.
+
+In the mean time Anna Trevanion married. Her husband, Mr. Walker, was a
+man of large property, and of social position equal to her own. They
+spent the first two years of their married life abroad. It was in the
+second of these two years, and when Lilian had been four years in St.
+Petersburgh, that Mr. and Mrs. Walker entered that city. One of their
+first inquiries of the American Minister was, "What Americans are here?"
+and at the head of the list he presented, stood Mr. and Mrs. Grahame.
+"And who are Mr. and Mrs. Grahame?" asked Mr. Walker. "You say they are
+from New-York, and I remember no such names of any consequence in
+society there."
+
+"I do not know what their consequence was there, but I assure you it is
+as great here as the partiality of the Emperor, the favor of the
+Imperial family, and their association with the highest rank, can make
+it."
+
+"But how did people unknown at home work themselves into such a
+position?"
+
+"They did not work themselves into it all--they took it at once, by the
+only right which Americans have to any position abroad--the right of
+their own fitness for it. Mr. Grahame, besides his high attainments in
+science, and his skill in mechanics, which first introduced him to the
+Emperor, is a man of fine appearance, of very extensive information, and
+very agreeable manners, and Mrs. Grahame is one of the most beautiful
+and cultivated women I know. I repeat, you cannot enter society here
+under better auspices than theirs."
+
+And thus the long-severed friends met in reversed positions; and if
+something of triumph did flash from Lilian's eyes, as she saw her
+husband, day after day, procuring from the Emperor's favor, privileges
+for Mr. and Mrs. Walker, not often enjoyed by strangers, her triumph was
+for him, and may be excused.
+
+After eight years spent in Russia, during which he had acquired fortune
+as well as fame, Michael Grahame returned to America, with his wife and
+three lovely children, and retired to a beautiful country seat within a
+mile of Mossgiel, purchased and furnished for him during his absence.
+His father still cultivates his garden, though he has ceased to sell its
+produce, and through those flowery walks Lilian and her husband still
+delight to wander, recalling the happy memories with which they are
+linked, with grateful and adoring hearts.
+
+"I shall never object again to any woman in whom I am interested,
+marrying the man of her choice, because he is only a mechanic," said
+Mrs. Trevanion to her husband, as they were returning one day from a
+visit to Mr. and Mrs. Grahame.
+
+"There, my dear, in those words, _only a mechanic_, lies our mistake,
+the world's mistake, in such matters. No man is _only_ what his trade,
+his profession, or his position in life makes him. Every man is
+something besides this, something by force of his own inherent personal
+qualities. By these the true man is formed, and by these he should be
+judged."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+
+Again we were all assembled in the parlor in which so many of our
+cheerful evenings had been spent, but a shadow seemed to have fallen on
+our little circle. The New-Year was now close in its approach, and
+immediately after the commencement of the New-Year we must separate. Mr.
+and Mrs. Dudley, with their children, and Mr. and Mrs. Seagrove, with
+theirs, and Mr. Arlington and I, must all leave within a day or two of
+each other, and a year, with all its chances and changes, will probably
+intervene before we meet again. The very thought, as I have said, threw
+a shadow upon us; but Col. Donaldson, who is a most inveterate foe to
+sadness, would not suffer us to yield unresistingly to its influence. If
+our time was short, the greater the necessity for crowding enjoyment
+into its every moment, he said: we could spare none of it for
+lamentations.
+
+"Now, Aunt Nancy," he continued, "if I am not mistaken, you can match
+Mr. Arlington's story with one quite as romantic, of an extraordinary
+marriage in high life. Do you remember Lady Houstoun and her son Edward
+Houstoun--"
+
+"Oh, yes!" I cried, interrupting him, "and the beautiful Lucy Watson
+too."
+
+"Then I am sure you must have their story somewhere in your bundle of
+romances."
+
+"I believe I have," I replied, as opening my desk I drew out package
+after package, the amusement of many an hour, which but for such a
+resource might have been sad in its loneliness. Some were looking fresh
+and new, and others yellow from age. Among the latter was that for which
+I was searching, and which Annie insists that I shall give to the
+reader, under the title of
+
+
+LOVE AND PRIDE.
+
+A proud and stately dame was Lady Houstoun, as she continued to be
+called after the independence of America had rendered such titles
+valueless in our land. Sir Edward Houstoun was an English baronet, whose
+estates had once been a fit support to his ancient title, but whose
+family had suffered deeply, both in purse and person, by their loyalty
+to Charles the First, and yet more by their obstinate adherence to his
+bigot son, James II. By a marriage with Louisa Vivian, an American
+heiress possessed of broad lands and a large amount of ready money, Sir
+Edward acquired the power of supporting his rank with all the splendor
+that had belonged to his family in the olden time; but circumstances
+connected with the poverty of his early years had given the young
+baronet a disgust to his own circle, which was not alleviated by the
+rapid changes effected by his newly-acquired wealth, and he preferred
+returning to America with his young bride, and adopting her country as
+his own. Here wealth sufficient for their most extravagant desires was
+theirs--houses in New-York, and fertile acres stretching far away from
+the city, now sweeping for many a rood the banks of the fair Hudson, and
+now reaching back into the rich lands that lie east of that river. When
+the separation of this country from England came, the representative of
+her most loyal family, whose motto was "_Dieu et mon Roi_" was found in
+the ranks of republican America. "He could not," he said, "recognize a
+divine right in the House of Hanover to the throne of the Stuarts, or
+justify by any human reason the blind subservience of Americans to the
+ruinous enactments of an English parliament, controlled by a rash and
+headstrong minister and a wayward king." Ten years after the
+proclamation of peace Sir Edward died, leaving one son who had just
+entered his twentieth year.
+
+Young as Edward Houstoun was, he had a man's decision of character; and
+when the question of his assuming his father's title, and claiming the
+estates attached to it in England, was submitted to him, he replied that
+"his proudest title was that of an American citizen, and he would not
+forfeit that title to become a royal duke." He could therefore inherit
+only his father's personal property, consisting principally of plate,
+jewels and paintings. The property thus received was all which the young
+Edward Houstoun could call his own. All else was his mother's, and
+though it would doubtless be his at her death, the Lady Houstoun was not
+one to relinquish the reins of government before that inevitable hour
+should wrest them from her hand. She made her son a very handsome
+allowance, however, and, with a higher degree of generosity than any
+pecuniary grant could evince, she never attempted to control his
+actions, suffering him to enjoy his sports in the country and amusements
+in the city without constraint. The Lady Houstoun was a wise woman, as
+well as an affectionate mother. She saw well that her son's independent
+and proud nature might be attracted by kindness to move whither she
+would, while the very appearance of constraint would drive him in an
+opposite direction. On one subject he greatly tried her forbearance--the
+unbecoming levity, as she esteemed it, with which he regarded the
+big-wigged gentlemen and hooped and farthingaled ladies whose portraits
+ornamented their picture gallery. For only one of these did Edward
+profess the slightest consideration. This was that of the simple
+soldier whose gallantry under William the Conqueror had laid the
+foundation of his family fortunes and honors.
+
+"Dear mother," said he one day, "what proof have we that those other
+fine gentlemen and ladies deserved the wealth and station which, through
+his noble qualities, they obtained?"
+
+"Sir James Houstoun, my son, who devoted life and fortune to his king--"
+
+"Pardon me, noble Sir James," interrupted Edward, bowing low and with
+mock gravity to the portrait, "I will place you and your stern-looking
+son there at your side next in my veneration to our first ancestor. Yet
+you showed that, like me, you had little value for wealth or station."
+
+"Edward!" ejaculated Lady Houstoun, in an accent of displeasure, "that
+we are willing to sacrifice a possession at the call of duty does not
+prove us insensible of its value."
+
+"Nay, mother mine, speak not so gravely, but acknowledge that you would
+be prouder of your boy if you saw him by his own energies winning his
+way to distinction from earth's lowliest station, than you can be of him
+now--idler as he is."
+
+"There is no less merit, Edward, in using aright the gifts which we
+inherit, than in acquiring them. There is as much energy, I can assure
+you, demanded in the proper management of large estates, and the right
+direction of the influence derived from station--ay, often more energy,
+the exercise of higher powers, than those by which a fortunate soldier,
+in time of war, may often spring in a day from nameless poverty to
+wealth and rank."
+
+The Lady Houstoun's still fine figure was elevated to its utmost height
+as she spoke, and her dark eye flashed out from beneath the shadow of
+the deep borders of her widow's cap. A stranger would have gazed on her
+with admiration, but her son turned away with a slight shrug of the
+shoulders and a curling lip, as he said to himself, "My mother may feel
+all this, for she manages the estates, and she bestows the
+influence--while I _amuse myself_. Mother," he added aloud, "they say
+there is fine sport in the neighborhood of the Glen, and I should like
+to see the place. I will take a party thither next week, if you will
+write to your farmer to prepare the house for us."
+
+"I will, Edward, certainly, if you desire it, but it has been so long
+since any of us were there, that I fear you will find the house very
+uncomfortable."
+
+"So much the better, if it give us a little variety in our smooth lives.
+I dare say we shall all like it very much. I shall, at least, and if the
+rest do not, they can return."
+
+The Glen was a wild rural spot among the Highlands, where Sir Edward had
+delighted occasionally to spend a few weeks with his wife and child and
+one or two chosen friends, in the enjoyment of country sports. For
+several years before his father's death, Edward had been too much
+engaged in his collegiate studies to share these visits. During the
+three years which had passed since that event, neither Lady Houstoun nor
+her son had visited the Glen, and it was not without emotion that she
+heard him name his intention of taking a party thither; but she offered
+no opposition to the plan, and in a little more than a week he was
+established in the comfortable dwelling-house there, with Walter Osgood;
+Philip Van Schaick, and Peter Schuyler, companions who were soon
+persuaded to leave the somewhat formal circles of the city for a few
+days of adventure in the country. They had arrived late in the night,
+and wearied by fifteen hours' confinement on board a small sloop, the
+visitors slept late the next morning, while Edward Houstoun, haunted by
+tender memories, was early awake and abroad. Standing in the porch, he
+looked forth through the gray light of the early dawn on hill and dale
+and river, endeavoring to recall the feelings with which he had gazed
+on them seven years before. Then he was a boy of scarcely sixteen,
+eager only for the holiday sport or the distinction of the
+school-room--now, he stood there--a boy still, his heart indignantly
+pronounced, though he had numbered nearly twenty-three years. Edward
+Houstoun was beginning to wake to somewhat of noble scorn in viewing his
+own position--beginning to feel that to amuse himself was an object
+hardly worthy a _man's_ life. Turning forcibly from such thoughts, he
+sprang down the steps, and pursued a path leading by the orchard and
+through a flowery lane, towards the dwelling of the farmer to whom the
+management of the Glen had been intrusted, first by Sir Edward and
+afterwards by Lady Houstoun. The sun was just touching with a sapphire
+tint the few clouds that specked the eastern sky; the branches of the
+wild rose and mountain laurel which skirted the lane on the right were
+heavy with the dews of night, and the birds seemed caroling their
+earliest song in the orchard and clover-field on the left, yet the
+farmer's horses were already harnessed to the wagon, and through the
+open door of the house Edward Houstoun as he approached caught a glimpse
+of Farmer Pye himself and his men seated at breakfast. As he was not
+perceived by them, he passed on, without interrupting them, to the
+dairy, where the good dame was busy with her white pails and bright
+pans. A calico bonnet with a very deep front concealed his approach from
+Mrs. Pye until he stood beside her; but there was one within the dairy
+who saw him, and whose coquettish movement in snatching from her glossy
+brown ringlets a bonnet of the same unbecoming shape with that of Mrs.
+Pye, did not escape his observation.
+
+"Well, now--did I ever see the like! Why, Mr. Edward, you've grown clean
+out of a body's memory--but after all, nobody couldn't help knowing you
+that ever seen your papa, good gentleman--how much you are like him!"
+
+Thus ran on Dame Pye, while Edward, except when compelled by a question
+to attend to her, was wondering who the fair girl could be, who was
+separated from her companion not less by the tasteful arrangement of her
+dress--simple and even coarse as it was in its material--and by a
+certain grace of movement, than by her delicate beauty. Her form was
+slender in proportion to its height, yet gave in its graceful outline
+promise of a development "rich in all woman's loveliness;" and her face,
+with its dark starry eyes, its clear, transparent skin, and rich, waving
+curls of glossy brown, recalled so vividly to Edward Houstoun's memory
+his favorite description of beauty, that he repeated almost audibly:--
+
+    "One shade the more, one ray the less,
+      Had half impair'd the nameless grace
+    That waves in every glossy tress,
+      Or softly lightens o'er her face,
+    Where thoughts serenely sweet express
+      How pure, how dear their dwelling-place."
+
+His admiration, if not audible, was sufficiently evident to its
+object--at least so we interpret her tremulous and uncertain movements,
+the eloquent blood which glowed in her cheeks, and the mistakes which at
+length aroused Mrs. Pye's attention.
+
+"Why, Lucy! what under the sun and earth's the matter with you, child?
+Dear--dear--to go putting the cream into the new milk, instead of
+emptying it into the churn! There--there--child--better go in now--I'll
+finish--and just tell Mr. Pye that Mr. Edward is here," said Mrs. Pye,
+fearful of some new accident.
+
+The discarded bonnet was put on with a heightened color, and the young
+girl moved rapidly yet gracefully toward the house.
+
+"I did not remember you had a daughter, Mrs. Pye," said Edward Houstoun,
+as she disappeared.
+
+"And I haven't a daughter--only the two boys, Sammy and Isaac--good big
+boys they are now, and help their father quite some--but this girl's
+none of mine, though I'm sure I love her 'most as well--she's so pretty
+and nice, and has such handy ways, though what could have tempted her to
+put the cream in the new milk just now, I'm sure I can't tell."
+
+"But who is she, Mrs. Pye?"
+
+"Who is she? Why, sure, and did you never hear of Lucy Watson? Oh!
+here's Mr. Pye."
+
+Edward Houstoun was too much interested in learning something more of
+Lucy Watson, not to find a sufficient reason for lingering behind the
+farmer, who was impatient to be in his hay-field. Mrs. Pye was
+communicative, and he soon learned all she knew--that Lucy was the
+daughter of a soldier belonging to a company commanded by Sir Edward
+Houstoun during the war--that this soldier had received his death-wound
+in defending his commander from a sword-cut, and that Sir Edward had
+always considered his widow and only child as his especial charge. The
+widow had soon followed her husband to the grave, and the child had been
+placed by Sir Edward with the wife of a country clergyman. To Mr. and
+Mrs. Merton, Lucy had been as an own and only daughter.
+
+"The good old people made quite a lady of her," said Mrs. Pye. "She can
+read and write equal to the parson himself, and I've hearn folks say
+that her 'broidery and music playin' was better than Mrs. Merton's own;
+but, poor thing! Mrs. Merton died, and still the parson begged Sir
+Edward to let her stay with him--she was all that was left now, he
+said--so Sir Edward let her stay. Mr. Merton died a year ago, and when
+Mr. Pye wrote to the lady--that's your mother, Mr. Edward--about her,
+she said she'd better come here and stay with us, and she would pay her
+board, and give her money for clothes, and five thousand dollars beside,
+whenever she should get married. I'm sure she's welcome to stay, if it
+was without pay, for we all love her, but, somehow, it don't seem the
+right place for her--and, as to marrying, I don't think she'll ever
+marry any body around her, for, kind-spoken as she is, they wouldn't any
+of them dare to ask her, though they're all in love with her beautiful
+face."
+
+In a week Edward Houstoun's friends had grown weary of ruralizing--they
+found no longer any music in the crack of a fowling-piece, or any
+enjoyment in the dying agonies of the feathered tribes, and, having
+resisted all their persuasions to return with them, he was left alone.
+
+"I shall report you as love-sick, or brain-sick, reclining by purling
+streams, under shady groves, to read Shakspeare, or Milton, or Spenser,
+for each of these books I have seen you at different times put in your
+pocket, and wander forth with a most sentimental air--doubtless to make
+love to some Nymph or Dryad."
+
+"Make love! Ah! there, I take it, you have winged the right bird, Van
+Schaick."
+
+"If I had seen a decent petticoat since we took leave of Mynheer Van
+Winkle and his daughter, on board the good sloop St. Nicholas, I should
+think so too, Osgood."
+
+"At any rate, it would be wise to report our suspicions to his lady
+mother."
+
+"Your suspicions of what--lunacy or love?" asked Edward Houstoun.
+
+"A distinction without a difference--they are equivalent terms."
+
+Thus jested his friends, and thus jested Edward Houstoun with them--well
+assured that no gleam of the truth had shined on them--that they never
+supposed his visits at Farmer Pye's possessed any greater attraction
+than could be derived from the farmer's details of improvements made at
+the Glen, of the increased value of lands, or the proceeds of the last
+year's crop. They had never seen Lucy Watson, and how could they suspect
+that while the farmer smoked his pipe at the door, and the good dame
+bustled about her household concerns, he sat watching with enamored eyes
+the changes of a countenance full of intelligence and sensibility, and
+listening with charmed ears to a soft, musical voice recounting, with
+all the simple eloquence of genuine feeling, obligations to the father
+whose memory was with him almost an idolatry. Still less could they
+divine that Shakspeare, and Milton, and Spenser were indeed often read
+beside a purling stream, and within the dense shadow of a grove of oak
+and chestnut-trees--not to Nymph or Dryad, but to a "mortal being of
+earth's mould,"
+
+    "A creature not too bright or good
+    For human nature's daily food,
+    For simple pleasures, harmless wiles,
+    For love, blame, kisses, tears and smiles."
+
+Here, one afternoon, a fortnight after the departure of his friends, sat
+Edward Houstoun with Lucy at his side. They had lingered till the
+sunlight, which had fallen here and there in broken and changeful gleams
+through over-arching boughs, touching with gold the ripples at their
+feet, had faded into that
+
+                        "mellow light
+    Which heaven to gaudy day denies."
+
+Edward Houstoun held a book in his hand, but it had long been closed,
+while he was engaged in a far more interesting study. He had with a
+delicate tact won his companion to speak as she had never spoken before
+of herself--not of the few events of her short life, for these were
+already known to him, but of the influence of those events on feeling
+and character. Tenderness looked forth without disguise from the earnest
+eyes which were fastened on her, as he said, "You say, Lucy, that you
+have found friends every where, have met only kindness, and yet you
+weep--you are sad."
+
+"Do not think me ungrateful," she replied. "I have indeed found friends
+and kindness--but these give exercise only to my gratitude--stronger,
+tenderer affections I have, which no father, or mother, or brother, or
+sister, will ever call forth."
+
+"Nay, Lucy, were you not adopted by my father, and am I not your
+brother?"
+
+A glance whose brightness melted into tears was her only answer.
+
+"Fie! fie! tears again? I shall have to scold my sister," said Edward
+Houstoun. "What complaint can you make now that I have found you a
+brother?"
+
+Lucy laughed, but soon her face grew grave, and, after a thoughtful
+pause, she said, "I believe those cannot be quite happy who feel that
+they have nothing to do in the world. Better be the poorest drudge, with
+powers fitted to your station, than to be as I am, an idler--a mere
+looker-on at the world."
+
+"Why, Lucy! what else am I?"
+
+"You! You, with fortune to bless, and influence to guide hundreds!
+What are you? God's representative to your less fortunate
+fellow-creatures--the steward of his bounty. Oh! be sure that you use
+your gifts faithfully."
+
+Lucy spoke solemnly, and it was with no light accent that Edward
+Houstoun replied--"You mistake, Lucy--you mistake--I am in truth no less
+an idler than yourself--a looker-on, with no part in the game of life.
+To the Lady Houstoun belong both the fortune and the influence." A
+mocking smile had arisen to his lip, but, as he caught her look of
+surprise, it passed away, leaving a gentle gravity in its place, while
+he continued--"Do not think I mean to complain of my mother, Lucy. She
+has been ever affectionate and indulgent to me. She leaves me no want
+that she can perceive. My purse is always full, and my actions
+unrestrained. I suppose I ought to be happy."
+
+"And are you not happy?"
+
+"No, Lucy, no! There has long been a vague restlessness and
+dissatisfaction about me--and, now, your words have thrown light on its
+cause. I am weary of the perpetual holiday which life has been to me
+since I left the walls of a college. I want to be doing--I want an
+object--something for which to strive and hope and fear--what shall it
+be, Lucy?"
+
+"I have heard Mr. Merton say that no one could choose for another his
+aims in life, but were I choosing for myself, it should be something
+that would connect me with the minds of others--something by which I
+could do service to their spiritual beings. Were I a man, I should like
+to write books--such books as would give counsel and comfort to erring
+and sad hearts--"
+
+Edward Houstoun shook his head--"Even had I an author's gifts, Lucy,
+that would not do for me--I must have action in my life--"
+
+"What say you to the pulpit?"
+
+"The noblest of all employments, Lucy--but it is a heavenly employment
+and needs a heavenly spirit. I would not dare to think of that. Try
+again--"
+
+"The law? Ah! now I see I have chosen rightly--you will be a lawyer--a
+great lawyer, like Mr. Patrick Henry."
+
+"You have spoken, Lucy--and I will do my best to fulfil your prophecy. I
+may not be a Patrick Henry--two such men belong not to one age--but I
+may at least hew out for myself a place among men, where I may stand
+with a man's freedom of thought and action. The very decision has
+emancipated me--has emboldened me to speak what a moment since I
+scarcely dared to think--nay, turn not from me, beloved--oh how
+passionately beloved! Life has now its object for me, Lucy--your
+love--for that I will strive--hope--whisper me that I need not
+fear--that when I have a right to claim my bride--"
+
+When Edward Houstoun commenced this passionate apostrophe, he had
+clasped Lucy's hand, and, overcome by his emotions and her
+own--forgetting all but his love--conscious only of a bewildering
+joy--she had suffered it to rest for one instant in his clasp. It was
+but for one instant--the next, struggling from him as he strove to
+retain her, she started to her feet, and stood leaning against the trunk
+of the tree that overshadowed them, with her face hidden by her clasped
+hands. He rose and drew near, saying, in low, tremulous tones--"Lucy,
+what means this?"
+
+"Mr. Houstoun," she exclaimed, removing her hands from her face, and
+wringing them in passionate sorrow--"how could you speak those words?"
+
+"Wherefore should I not speak them--are they so terrifying to you,
+Lucy?"
+
+"Can they be otherwise, since they must separate us for ever? Think you
+that the Lady Houstoun would endure that the creature of her bounty
+should become the wife of her son?"
+
+"I asked, Lucy, that you would promise to be mine when I had won a right
+to act independently of the Lady Houstoun's opinions."
+
+"Has a son ever a right to act independently of a mother?"
+
+"Is the obedience of a child to be exacted from a man? Is his happiness
+ever to be at the mercy of another's prejudices? Does there never come a
+period when he may be permitted to judge for himself?"
+
+Edward Houstoun spoke with indignant emphasis.
+
+"Look not so sternly--speak not so angrily," exclaimed Lucy. "I cannot
+answer your questions--but my obligations, at least, are
+irreversible--they belong to the irrevocable past, and while I retain
+their memory I can never--"
+
+"Hush--hush, Lucy! you will drive me mad. Is my happiness of less value
+in your eyes than the few paltry dollars my mother expended for you?"
+
+"Shall I, serpent-like, sting the hand that has fed me? No! no! would I
+had never heard those words. We were so happy--you will be happy
+again--but I--leave me, I pray you, for we must part now and for
+ever--oh! leave me."
+
+"No, Lucy, we will never part--I will never leave you."
+
+He would again have drawn her to his side, but at his touch, Lucy roused
+herself, and with a wild, half-frenzied effort, breaking from him, she
+rushed rapidly, blindly forward. He would have followed her, but
+stumbling against the root of a tree, before he could recover himself
+she was at the outskirts of the wood, in sight of the farm-house, and
+though he might overtake he could not detain her. He returned home, not
+overwhelmed with disappointment, but with joy throbbing at his heart,
+and hope beaming in his eyes. Lucy loved him--of that he felt
+assured--and bucklered by that assurance he could stand against the
+world. Life was before him--a life not of sickly pleasures and _ennui_
+breeding indolence--but a life of contest and struggle and labor,
+perhaps even of exhausting labor, yet a life which should awaken and
+discipline his powers: a life of victory and of repose--sweet because
+won with effort--a life to which Lucy's love should give its crowning
+joy. Such are youth's dreams. In his case these dreams were somewhat
+rudely dispelled by a summons from his mother's physician. Lady Houstoun
+was ill--very ill--he must not delay, said the physician; and he did
+not; yet a hastily pencilled line told that even at this moment Lucy was
+not forgotten--it was a farewell which breathed love and faith and
+hope.
+
+On Edward Houstoun's arrival in New-York, he found his mother already
+recovering from the acute attack which had endangered her life and
+occasioned his recall. He soon unfolded to her his new views of life,
+and the career which he had marked out for himself. New views
+indeed--new and incomprehensible to Lady Houstoun! She saw not that the
+life of indulgence, the perpetual gala-day, which she anticipated for
+her son, would have condemned him to see his highest powers dwindle away
+and die in the lethargy of inaction, or to waste in repinings against
+fate those energies given to command success. Time moderated her
+astonishment, and quiet perseverance subdued her opposition--subdued it
+the more readily, perhaps, from the knowledge that her son could
+accomplish his designs without her aid, by turning into money the plate,
+jewels and pictures received from his father. Edward Houstoun's first
+act, after securing the execution of his designs, was to inform Lucy of
+the progress he had made. His own absence from New-York at this time
+would have excited his mother's surprise, and might have aroused her
+suspicions; but the haste with which he had left the Glen furnished him
+with a plausible excuse for sending his own man to look after clothing,
+books, &c., that had been forgotten, and by him a letter could, he knew,
+be safely sent.
+
+A few days brought back to him his own letter, with the intelligence
+that Lucy had left Farmer Pye's family. Whither she had gone, they could
+not, or would not tell. Setting all fears at defiance, he went himself
+to the Glen--he sounded and examined and cross-examined every member of
+the farmer's family; but in vain were his efforts. He learned only that
+she had declared her intention of supporting herself by her own
+exertions, instead of continuing dependent on the Lady Houstoun--that
+she had returned the lady's last donation, through the farmer, with many
+expressions of gratitude, and that she had left home for the house of
+an acquaintance in New-York, from whom she hoped to receive advice and
+assistance in the accomplishment of her intentions. She had mentioned
+neither the name nor place of residence of this friend, and though she
+had written once to the good farmer, she had only informed him that she
+had found a home and employment, without reference to any person or
+place. Edward asked to see the letter--it was brought, but the post-mark
+told no secret--it was that of the nearest post town, and the farmer,
+opening the letter, showed that Lucy had said she had requested the
+bearer to drop it into that office. Who that bearer was, none knew.
+Bitter was the disappointment of Edward Houstoun. A beautiful vision had
+crossed his path, had awakened his noblest impulses, kindled his
+passionate devotion, and then vanished for ever. But she had left
+ineradicable traces of her presence. His awakened energies, his
+passionate longings, his altered life, all gave assurance that she had
+been--that the bright ideal of womanly beauty and tenderness, and
+gentleness and firmness, which lived in his memory, was no dream of
+fancy. He anticipated little pleasure now from the pursuits on which he
+had lately determined, but his pride forbade him to relinquish them, and
+when once they had been commenced, finding in mental occupation his
+Lethe, he abandoned himself to them with all his accustomed ardor.
+
+Two years passed away with Edward Houstoun in the most intense
+intellectual action, and in death-like torpor of the affections. From
+the last his mother might have saved him, had not her want of sympathy
+with his pursuits occasioned a barrier of reserve and coolness to arise
+between them fatal to her influence. During this time no token of Lucy's
+existence had reached him: and it was with such a thrill as might have
+welcomed a visitant from the dead, that, one morning as he left his own
+house to proceed to the office in which he pursued his studies, he saw
+before him at some distance, yet without any intervening object to
+interrupt his view of her, a form and face resembling hers, though
+thinner and paler. The lady was approaching him, with slow and languid
+steps; but as her eyes were fixed upon the ground she did not perceive
+him, and just as his throbbing heart exclaimed, "It is Lucy," and he
+sprang forward to greet her, she entered a house and the door closed on
+her. The inmates of that house were but slightly known to him, as they
+had only lately moved into the street, yet he hesitated not an instant
+in ringing the bell, and inquiring of the servant who presented himself
+at the door, for Miss Watson.
+
+"Miss Watson, sir?" repeated the man, "there is no such person living
+here."
+
+"She may not live here, but I saw her enter your door, and I wish to
+speak to her." At this moment Lucy crossed the hall at its further end,
+and he sprang forward, exclaiming "Lucy--Miss Watson--thank Heaven I see
+you once more!"
+
+A slight scream from Lucy, and the tremor which shook her frame, showed
+her recognition of him. She leaned for an instant against the wall, too
+faint for speech or action, while he clasped her hand in his; but a
+voice broke in upon his raptures and her agitation--a sharp, angry
+voice, coming from a lady who, leaning over the balustrade of the
+stairs, had seen and heard all that was passing below.
+
+"Lucy--Lucy--come up here--I am waiting for you--this is certainly very
+extraordinary conduct--very extraordinary indeed."
+
+"You shall not go," said Edward Houstoun, while the red blood flushed to
+his brow at the thought that his Lucy could be thus ordered. Lucy's face
+glowed too, and there was a proud flush from her eye, yet she resisted
+his efforts to detain her, and when he placed himself before her to
+prevent her leaving him, she opened a door near her, and though he
+followed her quickly through it, he was just in time to see her rushing
+up a private staircase. He would not leave the house without an
+interview, and going into one of the parlors, he rang the bell, and
+requested to see Mrs. Blakely, the lady of the house. She came, looking
+very haughty and very angry. He apologized for his intrusion, but
+expressed a wish to see a young lady, Miss Watson, who was, he
+perceived, under her care. With a yet haughtier air, Mrs. Blakely
+replied, "I am not acquainted with any young _lady_ of the name of
+Watson. Lucy Watson, the girl whom you met in the hall just now--is my
+seamstress. If you wish to see her, I will send her down to you, though
+I do not generally allow my servants to receive their visitors here."
+
+"I shall be happy to see her wherever you please," was Edward Houstoun's
+very truthful reply.
+
+Mrs. Blakely left him, and he stationed himself at the door to watch for
+Lucy. Minutes, which seemed to him hours, passed, and she came not. At
+length, as he was about to ring again, steps were heard approaching; he
+turned quickly, but it was not Lucy. The girl who entered handed him a
+sealed note. He tore it open and read--"I dare not see you. When you
+receive this I shall have left the house, and, as no one knows whither I
+have gone, questions would be useless."
+
+In an instant he was in the street, looking with eager eyes hither and
+thither for some trace of the lost one. He looked in vain, yet he went
+towards his office with happier feelings than he had long known. He knew
+now where Lucy was, and a thousand expedients suggested themselves, by
+which he could not fail to see her. If he could only converse with her
+for a few minutes, he was assured he could prevail on her to leave her
+present position, of which he could not for a moment bear to think. His
+heart swelled, his brow flushed, whenever the remembrance of that
+position flashed upon his mind, yet he never for an instant regarded it
+as changing his relations with Lucy, or lessening his desire to call her
+his. He recollected with pleasure two circumstances which had scarcely
+been remarked at the moment of their occurrence. The man who had opened
+the door to him, when he saw him spring forward to meet Lucy, had
+exclaimed, "Oh! it was _Miss_ Lucy you meant, sir;" and the girl who had
+handed the note had said, "_Miss_ Lucy has gone out, sir." It was
+evident she was not regarded by the servants as one of themselves--she
+had not been degraded by association with menials. This was true. Lucy
+had made such separation on her part an indispensable necessity, and
+Mrs. Blakely had been too sensible of the value of one possessing so
+much taste and skill in all feminine adornments, to hesitate about
+complying with her demand. This lady was one of the _nouveaux riches_,
+who occupied her life in scheming to attain a position to which neither
+birth nor education entitled her. The brightest dream connected with her
+present abode had been that its proximity to Lady Houstoun's residence
+might lead to an acquaintance with one of the proudest of that charmed
+circle in which Mrs. Blakely longed to tread. Hitherto this had proved a
+dream indeed, but Edward Houstoun's incursion into her domain, and the
+developments made by it, might, she thought, with a little address,
+render it a reality. It was with this purpose that she sent a note to
+Lady Houstoun, requesting an interview with her on a subject deeply
+connected with the honor of her family and the happiness of her son.
+Immediately on despatching this note, the servants were ordered to
+uncover the furniture in the drawing-room, while she herself hastened to
+assume her most becoming morning dress. Her labors were fruitless. "Lady
+Houstoun would be at home to Mrs. Blakely till noon," was the scarcely
+courteous reply to her carefully worded note. It was an occasion on
+which she could not afford to support her pride, and she availed herself
+of the permission to call.
+
+The interview between Lady Houstoun and Mrs. Blakely would have been an
+interesting study to the nice observer of character. The efforts on the
+part of the one lady to be condescending, and on that of the other to be
+dignified, were almost equally successful. Mrs. Blakely had seldom felt
+her wealth of so little consequence as in the presence of her commanding
+yet simply attired hostess, and Lady Houstoun had never been more
+disposed to assert the privileges of her rank, than when she heard that
+her son had forgotten his own so far as to visit on terms of
+equality--nay, if Mrs. Blakely were to be believed, positively to
+address in the style of a lover--a seamstress--the seamstress of Mrs.
+Blakely.
+
+"This is very painful intelligence to me, Mrs. Blakely--of course you
+must be aware that Mr. Houstoun could only have contemplated a temporary
+acquaintance with this girl. I do not fear that in his most reckless
+moment he could have thought of such a _mesalliance_--but this young
+woman must be saved--she was a _protege_ of Sir Edward Houstoun, and for
+his sake must not be allowed to come to harm--may I trouble you to send
+her to me?"
+
+The request was given very much in the style of a command. Mrs. Blakely
+would not confess that she had great doubts of her power to comply with
+it, but this would have been sufficiently evident to any one who had
+marked the uncertain air and softened tone with which Lady Houstoun's
+wishes were made known to Lucy. Indignant as she was at Mrs. Blakely's
+impertinent interference, Lucy scarcely regretted Lady Houstoun's
+acquaintance with her son's feelings. We do not know that far below all
+those acknowledged impulses leading her to comply with the lady's
+request, there did not lie some romantic hope that influences were astir
+through which
+
+    "Pride might be quell'd and love be free,"
+
+but this she did not whisper even to her own heart.
+
+"Better that the lady should know all--she will act both wisely and
+tenderly--perhaps for her son's sake, she will aid me to leave
+New-York." Such was the only language into which she allowed even her
+thought silently to form itself.
+
+Arranging her simple dress with as much care as though she were about to
+meet her lover himself, Lucy set out for her interview with Lady
+Houstoun. She had but a short distance to traverse, but she lingered on
+her way, oppressed by a tremulous anxiety. She was apprehensive of she
+knew not what or wherefore--for again and again her heart acquitted her
+of all blame. At length she is at the door--it opens, and, with a
+courtesy which the servants of Mrs. Blakely never show to a visitor who
+comes without carriage or attendants, she is ushered into the presence
+of Lady Houstoun. The lady fixes her eyes upon her as she enters, bows
+her head slightly in acknowledgment of her courtesy, and says coldly,
+"You are the young woman, I suppose, whom Mrs. Blakely was to send to
+me?"
+
+Lucy paused for a moment, to still the throbbing of her heart, before
+she attempted to reply. The thought flashed through her mind, "I am a
+woman, and young, and therefore she should pity me"--but she answered in
+a low, sweet, tremulous tone, "I am the Lucy Watson, madam, to whom Sir
+Edward Houstoun was so kind."
+
+At that name a softer expression stole over the Lady Houstoun's face,
+and she glanced quickly at a portrait hanging over the ample fireplace,
+which represented a gentleman of middle age, dressed in the uniform of a
+colonel of the American army. As she turned her eyes again on Lucy, she
+saw that hers were fastened on the same object.
+
+"You have seen Sir Edward?" she said in gentle tones.
+
+"Seen him, lady!--I loved him--oh how dearly!"
+
+"Honored him would be a more appropriate expression."
+
+"I loved him, lady--we are permitted to love our God," said Lucy,
+firmly.
+
+Lady Houstoun's brow grew stern again.--"And from this you argue,
+doubtless, that you have a right to love his son."
+
+Lucy's pale face became crimson, and she bent her eyes to the ground
+without speaking--the lady continued--"I scarcely think that you could
+yourself have believed that Edward Houstoun intended to dishonor his
+family by a legal connection with you."
+
+The crimson deepened on Lucy's face, but it was now the flush of pride,
+and raising her head she met Lady Houstoun's eyes fully as she
+replied--"I could not believe that he ever designed to dishonor himself
+by ruining the orphan child of him who died in his father's defence."
+
+"And you have intended to avail yourself of his infatuation. The menial
+of Mrs. Blakely would be a worthy daughter, truly, of a house which has
+counted nobles among its members."
+
+"If I have resisted Mr. Houstoun's wishes--separated myself from him,
+and resigned all hope of even looking on his face again, it has not been
+from the slightest reverence for the nobility of his descent, but from
+self-respect, from a regard to the nobleness of my own spirit. I had
+eaten of your bread, lady, and I could not do that which might grieve
+you--yet the bread which had cost me so much became bitter to me, and I
+left the home you had provided to seek one by my own honest exertions. I
+have earned my bread, but not as a menial--not in the companionship of
+the vulgar--and this Mrs. Blakely could have told you."
+
+"If your determination were, as you say, to separate yourself from Mr.
+Houstoun, it is unfortunate that you should have taken up your residence
+so near us."
+
+"I knew not until this morning that I was near you."
+
+"If you are sincere in what you say, you will have no objection now to
+leave New-York."
+
+"I have no objection to go to any place in which I can support myself in
+peace."
+
+"As to supporting yourself, that is of no consequence. I will--"
+
+"Pardon me, Lady Houstoun, it is of the utmost consequence to me. I
+cannot again live a dependent on your bounty."
+
+"What can you do? Has your education been such that you can take the
+situation of governess?"
+
+"Mr. Merton was a highly educated man, and Mrs. Merton an accomplished
+woman--it was their pleasure to teach me, and mine to learn from them."
+
+"Accomplished! There stands a harp which has just been tuned by a master
+for a little concert we are to have this evening. Can you play on it?"
+
+Lucy drew the instrument to her and played an overture correctly, yet
+with less spirit than she would have done had her fingers trembled less.
+
+"Can you sing?"
+
+Elevated above all apprehension by the indignant pride which this cold
+and haughty questioning aroused, Lucy changed the music of the overture
+for a touching air, and, sang, with a rich, full voice, a single stanza
+of an Italian song.
+
+"Italian! Do you understand it?"
+
+"I have read it with Mr. Merton."
+
+"This is fortunate. I have been for weeks in search of a governess for a
+friend residing in the country. I will order the carriage and take you
+there instantly--or stay--return home and put up your clothes. I will
+send a coach for you."
+
+Again Lucy had vanished from Edward Houstoun's world, nor could his most
+munificent bribes, nor most active cross-examination win any other
+information from Mrs. Blakely's household, than that "Miss Lucy went
+away in a carriage"--a carriage whose description presented a _fac
+simile_ to every hackney-coach. Spite of all her precautions, he
+suspected his mother; to his consciousness of her want of sympathy with
+his pursuits, was therefore added a deep sense of injury, and his heart
+grew sterner, his manner colder and more reserved than ever. Two years
+more were passed in his studies, and a third in the long delays, the
+fruitless efforts which mark the entrance on any career of profitable
+exertion. During all this time, Lady Houstoun was studious to bring
+around him the loveliest daughters of affluence and rank. Graceful forms
+flitted through her halls, and the music of sweet voices and the gay
+laughter of innocent and happy hearts were heard within her rooms, but
+by all their attractions Edward Houstoun was unmoved. Courteous and
+bland to all, he never lingered by the side of one--no quick flush, no
+flashing beam told that even for a passing moment his heart was again
+awake. Could it be that from all this array of loveliness he was guarded
+by the memory of her who had stamped the impress of herself on his whole
+altered being? If the gratification of the man's sterner ambition could
+have atoned for the disappointment of the youth's dream of love, the
+shadow of that memory would have passed from his life. Step by step he
+had risen in the opinions of men, and at length one of the most profound
+lawyers of the day sought his association with himself in a case of the
+most intense interest, involving the honor of a lovely and much-wronged
+woman. His reputation out of the halls of justice had already become
+such that many thronged the court to hear him. Gallant gentlemen and
+fair ladies looked down on him from the galleries--but far apart from
+these, in a distant corner, sat one whose tall form was enveloped in a
+cloak, and whose face was closely veiled. Beneath that cloak throbbed a
+mother's heart, and through that veil a mother's eyes sought the face
+she loved best on earth. He knew not she was there, for she rarely now
+asked a question respecting his engagements, or expressed any interest
+in his movements, yet how her ears drank in the music of his voice, and
+her eyes flashed back the proud light that shone in his! As she listened
+to his delineation of woman's claims to the sympathy and the defence of
+every generous heart, as she heard his biting sarcasm on the cowardly
+nature that, having wronged, would now crush into deeper ruin his fair
+client, as she saw kindling eyes fixed upon him, and caught, when he
+paused for a moment exhausted by the rush of indignant feeling, the low
+murmur of admiring crowds, how she longed to cry aloud, "My son--my
+son!" He speaks again. Higher and higher rises his lofty strain, bearing
+along with it the passions of the multitude. He ceases--and, as though
+touched by an electric shock, hundreds spring at once to their feet. The
+emphatic "Silence!" of the venerable judge hushes the shout upon their
+lips, but the mother has seen that movement, and, bursting into tears of
+proud triumphant joy, she finds her way below, and is in the street
+before the verdict which his eloquence had won was pronounced.
+
+Edward Houstoun had fitted up a room in his mother's house as a study,
+and over his accustomed seat hung his father's portrait. To that room he
+went on his return from the scene we have described. Beneath the
+portrait stood one who seldom entered there. She turned at the opening
+of the door--the lip, usually so firmly compressed, was quivering with
+emotion, and those stern eyes were full of tears. She advanced to him,
+drew near, and resting her head upon his shoulder whispered, "I, too, am
+a woman needing tenderness--shut not your heart against me, my son, for
+without you I am alone in the world."
+
+The proud spirit had bent, the sealed fountain was opened, and as he
+clasped his arms around her, the tears of mother and son mingled; but
+amidst the joy of this reunion Edward Houstoun felt more deeply than he
+had done for long months the desolation that had fallen on his life. His
+heart had been silent--it now spoke again, and sad were its tones.
+
+It is summer. The courts are closed, and all who can are escaping from
+the city's heat to the cool, refreshing shades of the country. Woe to
+those who remain! The pestilence has stretched her wings over them. The
+shadow and the silence of death has fallen on their deserted streets.
+The yellow-fever is in New-York--introduced, it is said, by ships from
+the West Indies. Before it appeared Edward Houstoun was far away. He was
+travelling to recruit his exhausted powers--to Niagara, perhaps into
+Canada, and in the then slow progress of news he was little likely to be
+recalled by any intelligence from the city. His mother was one of the
+first who had sickened. And where were now the fair forms that had
+encircled her in health--where the servants who had administered with
+obsequious attention to her lightest wish? All had fled, for no
+gratified vanity--no low cupidity can give courage for attendance on the
+bed of one in whose breath death is supposed to lurk. The devotedness of
+love, the self-sacrifice of Christian Charity, are the only impulses for
+such a deed. Yet over the sufferer is bending one whose form in its
+perfect development has richly fulfilled its early promise, and whose
+face is more beautiful in the gentle strength and thoughtfulness of
+womanhood than it had been in all its early brightness. In her peaceful
+home, where the reverent love of her young pupils and the confidence of
+their parents had made her happy, Lucy had heard from one of Lady
+Houstoun's terrified domestics of the condition in which she had been
+left, and few hours sufficed to bring her to her side. Days and nights
+of the most assiduous watchfulness, cheered by no companionship,
+followed, and then the physician, as he stood beside his patient and
+marked her regular breathing, her placid sleep, and the moisture on her
+brow, whispered, "You have saved her."
+
+We will not linger to describe the emotion with which Lady Houstoun,
+awakening from this long and tranquil slumber, exhausted, but no longer
+delirious, first recognised her nurse. At first, no doubt, painful
+recollections were aroused, but with the feebleness of childhood had
+returned much of its gentleness and susceptibility, and Lucy was at once
+so tender and so cheerful, that very soon her ministerings were received
+with unalloyed pleasure.
+
+Sickness is a heavenly teacher to those who will open their hearts to
+her. Lady Houstoun arose to a new life. She had stood so near to death
+that she seemed to have looked upon earth in the light of eternity. In
+that light, rank and title, with all their lofty associations and
+splendid accompaniments, faded away, while true nobleness, the nobleness
+which dwells in the Christian precept "Love your enemies--do good to
+those that despitefully use you," stood out in all its beauty and
+excellence.
+
+As soon as Lady Houstoun could be removed with safety, she went, by the
+advice of her physician, to her country-seat. Lucy would now have
+returned to her pupils--she feared every day lest Edward Houstoun should
+appear, and a new contest be necessary with his feelings and her
+own--but Lady Houstoun still pleaded her imperfectly restored health as
+reason for another week's delay, and Lucy could not resist her
+pleadings.
+
+It was afternoon, and Lucy sat in the library, which was in the rear of
+the house, far removed from its public entrance. Spenser's Faery Queen
+was in her hand, but she had turned from its witching pages to gaze upon
+the title-page, on which was written, in Edward Houstoun's hand, "June
+24th, 18--." It was the day, as Lucy well remembered, on which he had
+first revealed his love, and chosen his career in life. She was aroused
+from her reverie by Lady Houstoun's entrance. As she held the door open,
+the bright sunlight from an opposite window threw a shadow on the floor
+which made Lucy's heart throb painfully. She looked eagerly forward--a
+manly form entered and stood before her. She could not turn from the
+pleading eyes which were fixed with such intense earnestness on hers.
+With a bewildered half-conscious air she rose from her chair. He came
+near her and extended his arms. One glance at the smiling Lady Houstoun
+showed Lucy that her interdict was removed, and the next instant she lay
+in speechless joy once more upon her lover's bosom.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII.
+
+
+We were within three days of the New Year. Mr. Arlington, who was quite
+learned on the subject, had been amusing us with an account of its
+various modes of celebration in various countries. He was perfectly
+brilliant in a description of New-York as seen under the sun of a clear,
+frosty New-Year's morning, with snow enough to make the sleighing good.
+The gay, fantastic sleighs, dashing hither and thither, and their
+exhilarated occupants bowing now on this side and now on that, to
+acquaintances rushing by almost too rapidly to be distinguished, while
+the silvery bells ring out their merry peals on the still air. Then the
+festive array which greets the caller at every house within which he
+enters. Beauty adorned with smiles and dress, gayly decorated tables,
+brightly burning fires, and every thing seeming to speak the welcome not
+of mere form, but of hearty hospitality. There is one aspect in which he
+presents this day to us, that is peculiarly pleasing. He says, that many
+a slight estrangement, springing from some one of those "trifles" which
+"make the sum of human life," has been prevented, by the influence of
+this day, from becoming a life-long enmity. Thus the New-Year's day
+becomes a Peace-maker, and has on it the blessing of Heaven. Long live
+the custom which has made it such!
+
+"And how shall we celebrate our New-Year?" asked Col. Donaldson.
+
+"Let us introduce the New-York custom," suggested one.
+
+"That would not do without some previous agreement with your neighbors,"
+replied Mr. Arlington, "as their ladies would not probably be prepared
+for your visits, and while you were making them, the ladies of your own
+family would be left to entertain themselves as they could."
+
+"That will never do," said Col. Donaldson; "better invite all our
+neighbors to visit us on that day. Suppose we give them a dinner?"
+
+"Oh, papa!" cried Miss Donaldson in dismay. And "My dear husband!"
+ejaculated the smiling Mrs. Donaldson, "where would you find room to
+accommodate them all?"
+
+"True--true--we could not dine them in the open air at this season."
+
+"But there would be no such objection to an evening party," said one of
+the young Donaldsons. "We have fine sleighing now, and the moon rises
+only a little after eight on New-Year's evening; why not invite them for
+the evening."
+
+"What, another such stiff affair as Annie insisted on entertaining her
+friends the Misses Morrison with the last winter, when I saw one of the
+poor girls actually clap her hands with delight at the announcement of
+her carriage?"
+
+"Oh, no! Leave it to me, and it shall not be a stiff affair at all. We
+will appear in fancy dresses--"
+
+"My dear Philip!" remonstrated Mrs. Donaldson.
+
+"Oh! not you, my dear mother, nor my father, unless he should like
+it--indeed, it shall be optional with all--but enough, I am sure, will
+like to make it an entertaining variety."
+
+"But where shall we get fancy dresses, distant as we are from the city?"
+asked Annie.
+
+"Leave yours to me, Annie, I have it ready for you," said Philip
+Donaldson, with so significant an air, that I at once suspected this
+suggestion to have been the result of the arrival on that very day of a
+box, addressed to him by a ship from Constantinople, of which he had
+hitherto made a great mystery.
+
+"Thank you, Philip; but you cannot, I suppose, supply all the company,
+and I had rather not be the only one in fancy costume, if you please."
+
+"If mamma will surrender to me the key of that great wardrobe, up
+stairs, which contains the brocade dresses, shoe-buckles, knee-buckles,
+etc., of our great-grandfathers and grandmothers, I will promise to
+supply dresses for our own party, at least, with a little aid from the
+needles and scissors."
+
+"I bar scissors," cried Col. Donaldson. "Those venerable heir-looms--"
+
+"Shall not lose a shred, sir," said Philip; "the scissors shall only be
+used to cut the threads, with which the ladies take in a reef here and
+there, when it is necessary."
+
+"But you have provided only for our party. Are our guests not to be in
+costume?"
+
+"That may be as they please. We will express the wish, and if they have
+any ingenuity, they can have no difficulty in getting up some of the
+staple characters of such a scene, flower-girls and shepherdesses,
+sailors, sultans, and beggars."
+
+The scheme seemed feasible enough, when thus presented, and had
+sufficient novelty to please the young people. It was accordingly
+adopted, and the evening was passed in writing invitations, which were
+dispatched at an early hour the next morning. The three succeeding days
+were days of pleasurable excitement, in preparation for the fete.
+Needles and scissors were both in active use, and the brocade dresses
+lost, I am afraid, more than one shred in the process of adjusting them
+to the figures for which they were now designed. Mrs. Dudley and Mrs.
+Seagrove were thus arranged as rival beauties of the court of Queen
+Anne. Philip Donaldson, with the aid of a bag-wig, for which Mr.
+Arlington has written at his request to a friend, in what city I may
+not say, and with some of his father's youthful finery, and the shoe and
+knee-buckles aforesaid, will make an excellent beau for these belles.
+Col. Donaldson, always ready for any harmless mirth, says they must
+accept him in his father's continental uniform for another. Mr.
+Arlington makes quite a mystery of his costume, but it is a mystery
+already revealed, both to Col. Donaldson and Philip, as I can plainly
+perceive by the significant glances they exchange whenever an allusion
+is made to it. Robert Dudley is to be a page, Charles Seagrove, a
+beautiful boy of six years old, an Oberon, and our little Eva a Titania.
+Mrs. Donaldson and I were permitted to appear in our usual dress, and
+Miss Donaldson strenuously claimed the same privilege, but it was not
+allowed. She resisted all entreaties, even from her favorite brother
+Arthur; but when her father gravely regretted her inability to
+sympathize with the enjoyments of others, she was overcome. Having
+yielded, she yielded entirely, and was willing to wear anything her
+sisters wished. As she is considered by them all, even in her
+thirty-third year, as the beauty of the family, her dress has been more
+carefully studied by them than any other. Every book of costumes within
+their reach was searched for it again and again, without success; one
+was rich, but unbecoming, another pretty, but it did not suit her style,
+and a third all they desired, but unattainable at so short a notice. As
+a last resource, my engravings were resorted to, and there, to my own
+surprise, they found what satisfied all their demands. One of the
+historical prints showed the dress worn in her bridal days by Hotspur's
+Kate. Miss Donaldson accepted it thankfully, as being less _bizarre_
+than any yet proposed to her, requiring nothing more than a full skirt
+of white satin, a jacket not very unlike the modern Polka, and a bridal
+veil. One condition she insisted on, however, namely, that Arthur should
+be her Hotspur. To this he consented without difficulty, not without an
+eye, I suspect, to the appearance of his tall, erect, graceful form and
+bearing in such a dress as Hotspur's.
+
+The last evening of the Old Year had arrived, our preparations were
+completed, and our little party were experiencing something of that
+_ennui_ which results from having nothing to do, when, in putting away
+the materials lately in use, Annie took up my engraving of Hotspur and
+Kate. Handing it to me, she said. "I know these engravings are precious,
+Aunt Nancy, though what can be the association with this one, I am, I
+acknowledge, at a loss to conceive."
+
+"And yet it is a very simple one. I treasure it in memory of my friend
+Harry Percy and his bride."
+
+"What! Hotspur?" questioned Annie with dilating eyes.
+
+"Not quite, though he was a lineal descendant of the old Percys, and hot
+enough on occasion, too."
+
+"You mean Colonel Percy of the British army, who married Miss Sinclair,
+of Havre de Grace, during our last war with England, or immediately
+after it, I never quite understood which. There seemed some mystery
+about the marriage, and I did not like to inquire too closely, but I
+dare say now, Aunt Nancy, you can tell us all about it."
+
+"I believe I can. See Annie, if among these packages you can find one
+labelled 'The Test of Love.'"
+
+"What! another story of a proud beauty winning her glove and losing her
+lover?" asked Mr. Arlington.
+
+"No; my test, or rather my hero's test, was somewhat different," I
+replied, as I received the package from Annie, and read,
+
+
+THE TEST OF LOVE:
+
+A STORY OF THE LAST WAR.
+
+When Mr. Sinclair, the rector of St John's, in Havre de Grace took
+possession of his pretty parsonage, and persuaded the fair and gentle
+Lucy Hillman to preside over his unpretending _menage_, and to share the
+comforts that lay within the compass of his stipend of one thousand
+dollars per annum, he felt that his largest earthly desires were
+fulfilled. A daughter was given to him, and with a grateful heart he
+exclaimed--"Surely Thou hast made my cup to overflow."
+
+But he too was a man "born to trouble." He too must be initiated into
+those "sacred mysteries of sorrow," through which the High-priest of his
+profession had passed. In the succeeding ten years, three other children
+opened their soft, loving eyes in his home, made its air musical with
+their glad voices and ringing laughter, and just as he had learned to
+listen for the pattering of their dimpled foot, and his heart had
+throbbed joyously to their call, they were borne from his arms to the
+grave, and the echoes which they had awakened in his soul were hushed
+for ever. Still his Lucy and their first-born were spared, and as he
+drew them closer to his heart he could "lift his trusting eyes" to Him
+from whom his faith taught him no real evil could come to the loving
+spirit. The shadow of earth had fallen on his heart, but the light of
+heaven still beamed brightly there. Years passed with Mr. Sinclair in
+that deep quiet of the soul which is "the sober certainty of waking
+bliss." His labors were labors of love, and he was welcomed to repose by
+all those charms which woman's taste and woman's tenderness can bring
+clustering around the home of him to whom her heart is devoted. But a
+darker trial than any he had yet known awaited him.
+
+War is in our borders, and that quiet town in which Mr. Sinclair's life
+has passed is destined to feel its heaviest curse. Its streets are
+filled with soldiery. The dark canopy of smoke from which now and then a
+lurid flame shoots upward, shows that their work is destruction, and
+that they will do it well. Terrified women flit hither and thither,
+mingling their shrieks in a wild and fiend-like concert with the crack
+of musketry, the falling of houses, and the loud huzzas and fierce
+outcries of excited men. At a distance from that quarter in which the
+strife commenced, stands a simple village church, within whose shadow
+many of those who had worshipped in its walls during the last half
+century, have lain down to rest from the toils of life. No proud
+mausoleum shuts the sunshine from those lowly graves. Drooping elms and
+willows bend over them, and the whispering of their long pendent
+branches, as the summer breeze sweeps them hither and thither, is the
+only sound that breaks the stillness of that hallowed air. Near the
+church, on the opposite side from this home of the dead, lies a garden,
+whose roses and honey-suckles perfume the air, while its bowers of lilac
+and laburnum, of myrtle and jessamine, almost shut from the view the
+pretty cottage to which it belongs. All around, all within that cottage,
+is silent. Have its inmates fled?
+
+The neighboring houses have been long deserted, and those who left them
+would gladly have persuaded their pastor to accompany them; but when
+they called to urge his doing so, he could only point to the bed on
+which, already bereft of sense, and evidently fast passing from life,
+lay one "all lovely to the last." Mrs. Sinclair's health, delicate for
+years, had rapidly failed in the last few months, till her anxious
+husband and child, aware that a moment's acceleration of the pulse, a
+moment's quickening of the breath from whatever cause, might snatch her
+from their arms, learned to modulate every tone, to guard every look and
+movement in her presence. But they could not shut from her ears the boom
+of the cannon which heralded the approach of the foe--they could not
+hush the startling cries with which others met the announcement of their
+arrival, and the first evidences of that savage fury which desolated
+their homes, and left a dark stain on the escutcheon of Britain. Mrs.
+Sinclair uttered no cry when her terrors were thus excited, she even
+strove to smile upon her loved ones, to raise their drooping hearts; and
+in this, woman's holiest task, the springs of her life gave way--not
+with a sudden snap, but slowly, gently--so that for hours her husband
+and daughter stood watching the shadow of death steal over her, hoping
+yet to catch one glance of love, one whispered farewell ere she should
+pass for ever from them.
+
+"Fear not, my child," said Mr. Sinclair, when their sad vigils were
+first interrupted by those who urged their flight--"they are enemies, it
+is true, but they are Englishmen, a peaceful clergyman, a defenceless
+woman, are safe in their hands--they will not harm us."
+
+"I have no fear, no thought of them, father!" said Mary Sinclair, as she
+turned weeping to the only object of fear, or hope, or thought, at that
+moment.
+
+But soon others of Mr. Sinclair's parishioners came to warn him that his
+confidence had been misplaced, that no character, no age, no sex, had
+proved a protection from the ruthless fury of their assailants. He would
+now have persuaded his daughter to accompany her friends to a place of
+safety, and when persuasions proved vain he would have commanded her,
+but, lifting her calm eyes to his, she said, "Father have you not taught
+me that, in all God's universe, the only safe place for us is that to
+which our duty calls us--and is not my duty here?"
+
+A colder heart would have argued with her, and might, perhaps, have
+proved to her that her duty was not there--that her father could watch
+the dying, and that it was her duty to preserve herself for him; but Mr.
+Sinclair folded her in his arms while his lips moved for an instant in
+earnest prayer, and then, turning to his waiting friends, he said, "Go,
+go, my friends--I thank you--but God has called us to this, and he will
+care for us."
+
+When the work of desolation had been completed in the quarter first
+attacked, parties of soldiers straggled off from the main body in search
+of further prey. Fearful was it to meet these men--their faces blackened
+with smoke, their hands stained with blood, fierce frowns upon their
+brows, and curses on their lips. The parsonage presented little
+attraction in its external aspect to men whose object was plunder, and
+they turned first to larger and more showy buildings. These were soon
+rifled; the noise of their ribald songs, their blasphemous oaths and
+drunken revelry penetrating often the chamber of death, yet scarcely
+awakening an emotion in the presence of the great Destroyer. At length
+the little gate is flung rudely open, and unsteady but heavy steps
+ascend from the court-yard to the house. They cross the piazza, they
+enter the parlor where life's gentlest courtesies and holiest affections
+have hitherto dwelt, the door of the room beyond is thrown open, and two
+men stand upon its threshold, sobered for an instant by the scene before
+them. There, pale, emaciated, the dim eyes closed, and the face wearing
+that unearthly beauty which seems the token of an adieu too fond, too
+tender, too sacred for human language, from the parting spirit to its
+loved ones, the wife and mother, speechless, senseless, yet not quite
+lifeless, lay propped by pillows. At her side knelt Mr. Sinclair; the
+pallor of deep, overpowering emotion was on his cheek, yet in his lifted
+eyes there was an expression of holy faith, and you might almost have
+fancied that a smile lay upon the lips which were breathing forth the
+hallowed strains of prayer--"Save and deliver us, we humbly beseech
+Thee, from the hands of our enemies, that we, being armed with thy
+defence, may be preserved evermore from all perils, to glorify Thee, who
+art the only giver of all victory, through the merits of thy Son, Jesus
+Christ our Lord--Amen."
+
+Dark, sinful men as they were, fresh from brutal crime, those strains
+touched a long silent chord in their hearts--a chord linked with the
+memory of a smiling village in their own distant land--with a mother's
+love and the innocence of childhood. Faint--faint, alas! were those
+memories, and Mr. Sinclair's "amen" had scarcely issued from his lips,
+when the eyes of the leader rested on the beautiful face of Mary
+Sinclair, as, pressed to the side of her father, she stretched her arms
+out over her dying mother, and turned her eyes imploringly on their
+dreaded visitors. The ruffians sprang forward with words whose meaning
+was happily lost to the failing sense of the terror-stricken girl. Mr.
+Sinclair started to his feet, and with one arm still clasped around his
+daughter, stood between her and the worse than murderers before him,
+prepared to defend her with his life. For the first time he thirsted for
+blood, and looked around for some weapon of destruction--but his was the
+abode of peace--no weapon was there. Unarmed, with that loved
+burden--loved at this moment even to agony, resting upon him--he stood
+opposed to two fierce men armed to the teeth. A father's strength in
+such a cause, who shall estimate?--yet, alas! his adversaries were
+demons, relentless in purpose, and possessed of that superhuman force
+which passion gives. Weary of killing, or influenced by that
+superstition which sometimes rules the soul from which religion is
+wholly banished, they did not avail themselves of their swords. With
+fierce threats they unclasped his arm from that senseless form, which
+sank instantly to the floor at his feet, and drew him across the room.
+They would have forced him into the parlor, but his resistance was
+desperate, and ere they could accomplish this, the sound of a drum
+beating the recall was borne faintly to their ears. Leaving his comrade
+to hold the wildly struggling father, the bolder ruffian turned back
+toward the still prostrate Mary. At that moment, before she had been
+polluted by a touch, the door was thrown violently back, and a tall,
+manly form strode through it. The gilded epaulettes and drooping feather
+told his rank, before the step of pride and countenance of stern command
+had conveyed to the mind the conviction that you stood in the presence
+of one accustomed to be obeyed. The man who grasped Mr. Sinclair
+loosened his hold and shrank cowering away. He went unnoticed, for the
+eye of the officer had fallen upon him who was in the act of stooping to
+lift Mary Sinclair from the floor. With a single spring he was at his
+side, and catching him by the collar of his coat, he hurled him from him
+with such force that he fell stunned against the farther wall. Mr.
+Sinclair was already bending over his daughter. As he raised her on his
+arm her head fell back, exposing her face, around which her dark hair
+swept in dense masses. Her features were of chiselled beauty, and had
+they been indeed of marble they could not have been more bloodless in
+their hue, while her jetty lashes lay as still upon her cheek as though
+the hand of death had sealed her eyes for ever. Mr. Sinclair had no such
+fear. He knew that she had only fainted, and rejoiced that God in his
+mercy had spared her the worst horrors of the scene; but as Captain
+Percy's eyes rested on her, a deeper scowl settled on his brow, and in a
+hoarse whisper he asked:--
+
+"Have they harmed her, sir?"
+
+"Not by a touch, thank God! not by a touch!" exclaimed the father, as he
+pressed her with passionate joy to his heart--ay, joy, even in the
+presence of her so long the light of his life now passing for ever from
+earth. For a few minutes the dying had been forgotten, for what was
+death--a death of peace--to the long misery into which man's base,
+brutal passion would have converted the life of that pure and lovely
+girl? Now, however, she was safe, and still supporting her on his arm,
+Mr. Sinclair turned to his wife and tenderly moistened her parched lips.
+What a mockery of all human cares seemed that pale, peaceful
+brow--peaceful, while he whose lightest sorrow had thrown a shadow on
+her life was suffering anguish inexpressible, and the child who had lain
+in her bosom, to the lightest throb of whose heart her own had answered,
+lay senseless from terror in his arms. It was a scene to touch the
+hardest heart, and Captain Percy's heart was not hard. He looked around
+for the men whom he had interrupted in their hellish designs--they were
+not there.
+
+"Is this their work?" he asked of Mr. Sinclair, pointing to his scarcely
+breathing wife.
+
+"No--no--this is the gentle hand of our Father," said Mr. Sinclair, as
+he bent his head and touched with his lips the sunken cheek dearer to
+him now than it had been in all its girlish roundness. The blood had
+begun to cast a slight tinge of red into the lips of Mary Sinclair
+before Captain Percy had left the room in search of the men whom he was
+unwilling to leave behind him, and when he returned, the tremor of her
+form and the close clasp with which she clung to her father, proved that
+her consciousness and her memory were awake. His step had startled her,
+and as he entered he heard Mr. Sinclair say, "Fear not, my daughter,
+that is the step of your deliverer, and though he is an English
+soldier----"
+
+"I pray you, sir, judge not Englishmen by ruffians like these--a
+disgrace to the name of man. Believe me, every country has within it
+wretches, who, at moments such as this, when all social restraints are
+withdrawn, become demons. But I must leave you, in safety, I trust, as I
+have sent to the ships all the soldiers whom I could discover in your
+neighborhood."
+
+"Farewell, sir," said Mr. Sinclair, extending his hand--"God reward you
+for the timely aid you have this day brought to the defenceless. Look
+up, my child, and join your thanks with mine."
+
+Mary Sinclair raised her head from her father's bosom, and lifting her
+eyes for an instant to the face of Captain Percy, unclosed her lips to
+speak, but voice and words were denied her.
+
+"God bless you, lady!" he exclaimed, as taking her hand he raised it to
+his lips, and relinquishing it with one glance of sympathy at the dying,
+turned away and passed from the room. He returned once more, but it was
+only to leave his pistols with Mr. Sinclair.
+
+"They are loaded, sir, and in such a cause as you needed them just now,
+even a Christian minister may use them."
+
+Captain Percy spoke rapidly, only glancing at Mary, who was already
+bending with self-forgetful devotion above her mother's pillow, and
+before Mr. Sinclair could answer he was gone.
+
+All was again silent in that deserted suburb, and for long hours nothing
+disturbed the solemn stillness of the chamber of death, save the low sob
+or earnest prayer of parting love, though sounds of tumult had not
+ceased wholly in the village. The invaders had been interrupted in their
+work of destruction by an alarm from some of their own party of an
+approaching foe. They hurried to their ships with mad impetuosity,
+conscious that their acts deserved only war to the knife, and that they
+were not prepared to cope with any regular force. Only they, who, like
+Captain Percy, had held themselves aloof from the brutal barbarities
+which they had striven vainly to prevent, were now composed enough to
+take any steps for the safety of others. To collect those who had
+straggled off was the first business, and while the recall was hastily
+beaten, Captain Percy, selecting a small party of men on whom he could
+depend, went to patrol the more distant quarters of the town. Having
+seen no trace of an enemy on his way to the parsonage, he had somewhat
+hastily concluded the alarm to be false, and therefore did not hesitate,
+before returning with his pistols to Mr. Sinclair, to send forward his
+men in charge of those whom he had found, promising to join them before
+they reached the point of embarcation. Without a thought of danger he
+traversed the silent and deserted streets on his return, and had arrived
+where a single turn would bring him within view of the rallying point of
+his companions in arms, when the sound that met his practised ears told
+of something more than the hurrying tread and mingling voices of
+soldiers rapidly embarking. Had his men been opposed? If so, they should
+not be without a leader--and with that thought he sprang forward. He was
+too late. Already they had fought their way through the band of
+villagers, who, maddened by the desolation of their homes, had gathered
+together such weapons as they could, and led on by one gallant and
+experienced soldier, whom their burning houses had lighted to their aid,
+were seeking to cut off the retreat of some amongst their invaders, and
+thus to revenge those whom they had been unable to protect. Captain
+Percy's men had, as we have said, fought their way through this
+band--not without loss. He now stood alone--one against many--with only
+his good sword to aid, for his pistols he had given to Mr. Sinclair. To
+retreat unobserved was impossible, for his own cry of "Forward--forward,
+my men!" uttered as he rushed to the scene of the just decided contest,
+had betrayed him--to fight against such odds with the faintest hope of
+success was equally impossible, and to yield was an alternative which
+there seemed to be no intention of offering him. In an instant twenty
+swords flashed before his eyes--twenty muskets were pointed at his
+breast. That instant had been his last had not Major Scott, the leader
+of whom we have spoken, sprang forward and placed himself before him.
+Himself a brave and generous soldier, he could not tamely witness such
+butchery; and pale with the terror for another which he had never felt
+for himself, he exclaimed, "Yield yourself, sir, quickly--a moment's
+delay, and I cannot protect you."
+
+Captain Percy's sword was in the hand of his noble foe, who, linking his
+arm in his, turned to face his own band, shouting as he did so,
+"Back--back on your lives--he is my prisoner, and who touches him makes
+me his enemy."
+
+The day had passed with all its exciting incidents. The glow of sunset
+had faded into twilight's soberer hues, and these had deepened into the
+darkness of night. With the darkness silence had settled upon the
+streets of Havre de Grace. They who had trodden, for hours, with burning
+hearts around the sites of their desecrated homes, retired to the house
+of some charitable and more fortunate neighbor, to seek such rest as
+misery may hope. They went with sullen as well as sad brows, and as they
+passed one house in the village they muttered "curses not loud, but
+deep." This was the house in which Major Scott had found a refuge for
+himself and the prisoner, whom all his influence had scarcely been able
+to protect. To remove him from Havre de Grace in the light of day, and
+under the eyes of his infuriated enemies, was too hazardous a project to
+be attempted; and by the advice of some who seemed disposed to second
+his efforts for his safety, he had delayed his departure till night
+should veil the obnoxious features of the British officer.
+
+At the parsonage, death had accomplished his work, and the room in which
+we have already seen Mr. Sinclair, bears the solemn impress of his
+presence. Beside the bed on which the lifeless limbs have been composed
+with tender care, the pastor kneels. His prayer is no longer, "Let this
+cup pass from me"--he is struggling for power to say, "Father, not my
+will, but Thine be done!" In an upper room lies Mary Sinclair. Tears are
+falling fast as summer rain-drops from her closed eyes; but she utters
+neither sob nor moan, and by the dim light of the shaded lamp she seems
+to the two women, who, with well-meant but officious kindness, have
+insisted on watching with her through the night, to sleep. A slight
+noise in the street causes one of these women to start, and she whispers
+to the other, "I am 'feard of every thing to-night--the least noise puts
+me all of a trimble, for I'm thinking of my Jack. He's gone to guard
+that British soger, and I shouldn't wonder if he had a skrimmage about
+him before morning."
+
+"And I must say, Miss Dunham, if he did, it would be nothin' more than
+them deserves us would go for to guard them cruel British."
+
+"But they do say, Miss Caxton, that this Capin--for Jack says he is a
+Capin--was better than the rest--that he took the part of our people
+every where when he found there wasn't any fair fight, and that he was
+drivin' his men to the ships when we caught him."
+
+"Them may believe that that will, but for my part I think that it must
+be a poor, mean speritted American that will hold guard over one of them
+British----"
+
+"Not so mean speritted as you think perhaps," said Jack's mother with a
+flushed face.
+
+"Well, I must say, Miss Dunham, I never thought Jack would do such a
+thing--if I had----"
+
+Miss Caxton stopped abruptly, but her companion would hear the
+whole--"Well ma'am, if you had--what if you had?"
+
+"Why, then, Miss Dunham, I shouldn't have been so well pleased to see
+him keepin' company with my Sarah--but after this, of course, that's at
+an end."
+
+"May be, Miss Caxton, you may think to-morrow mornin' that it would have
+been just as well to wait till the night was gone before you said
+that--when you see the British Capin hanging by the neck in his fine
+regimentals, and hear that his guard were the men that did it--as I know
+they've sworn to do--you may think after all they an't so mean
+speritted."
+
+"Miss Dunham! if they'll do that, I'll unsay every word I've said, and
+proud enough I would be to call one of 'em my son-in-law--but now do
+tell me all about it--she's asleep you see," glancing at Mary Sinclair,
+"and there an't nobody to hear."
+
+"Why, there an't much to tell. You see the Major wouldn't give way any
+how at all about this here man--so, as they didn't want to fight _him_,
+they agreed that some of the real true blues who an't afeard of nothin',
+should seem to help the Major and persuade him to keep the man here till
+late in the night, and that they would guard him--but they were to take
+care to have the key of his room, and when the Major goes there he'll
+find it empty, or at best only a bloody corpse there. They'll hang him
+if they can get him out of the window without too much noise, but if
+there's any danger of his waking the Major with his screeching, they'll
+stop his voice quick enough."
+
+Any further conversation between these discreet watchers was prevented
+by a sudden movement on the part of Mary Sinclair. Springing from her
+bed she was hastening to the door when her steps were arrested.
+
+"Dear me, Miss Mary! where are you going? Now do lie down again, my dear
+young lady!--be patient--it's the Lord's will, you know." Such were the
+remonstrances of her officious attendants, while, one on either side,
+they strove to lead her back again, but Mary persisted.
+
+"I must go to my father, Mrs. Dunham, pray let me go, Mrs. Caxton, I
+must speak to my father."
+
+"Well, then, my good young lady, just put your wrapping gown around you
+first, and put your feet in these slippers."
+
+Mary complied silently, and then was suffered to proceed. Rapidly she
+flew to her father's room--it was unoccupied, and a glance at his bed
+showed her that it had not been disturbed. Mary was at no loss to
+conjecture where she should find her father--but as she approached
+_that_ room her steps grew slower, lighter--she was treading on holy
+ground. With difficulty she nerved herself to turn the latch of the
+door, and in an awed whisper she entreated her father to come to her.
+Mr. Sinclair rose from his knees, but he lingered a moment to cast one
+look on that still lovely face, to press his lips to that cold brow, and
+then, reverently veiling it, he approached his daughter.
+
+"Come quickly, papa!--not a moment is to be lost if you would save him
+from death, and such a death--oh, papa, papa!--it may be even now too
+late."
+
+Her tale was rapidly told, and before it was concluded Mr. Sinclair was
+ready for action.
+
+"But the house, Mary, what house is he in?"
+
+This Mary could not tell, but rapidly ascending the stairs to her room,
+Mr. Sinclair obtained from the two gossips the information he sought.
+Startled as they were by his appearance, they reverenced the rector too
+much to question his designs. Leaving his daughter to forget even her
+own heavy sorrow in the imminent danger of another--of one whom, without
+any very satisfactory reason, she as well as Mr. Sinclair had at once
+concluded to be her deliverer of the morning--let us follow his steps.
+
+The church clock tolled eleven as Mr. Sinclair passed, and the sound
+made his fleet movements fleeter still. Street after street was
+traversed without a voice or tread, save his own, breaking the stillness
+of the night. At length he reached the point of the day's devastations.
+Dismantled and roofless houses, from which a dull glimmer showed that
+the fire was not yet wholly extinguished, were seen rising here and
+there, while in intervening spaces a charred and smouldering heap alone
+gave evidence that man had had his dwelling there. A rapid glance as he
+passed without a pause over this ground told its desolation. But
+see--what object meets his eye, and causes every nerve to thrill with
+apprehension! From the midst of one of those blackened heaps a single
+post shoots up--wildly Mr. Sinclair casts his eyes upward to its
+summit--gracious heaven! is he too late? To that post, about twenty feet
+from the ground, a cross-piece is attached, to which a rope has been
+secured, and from that rope a dark object hangs motionless. Sick with
+horror he stops--he gazes--no! it is no illusion--dimly defined against
+the star-lit sky, his eye, dilated by terror, traces the form of man,
+and fancy supplies the traits of him who stood before him but a few
+hours since in all the flush of manhood--every moment replete with
+energy, every look full of proud resolve and generous feeling. With a
+searching glance Mr. Sinclair looks around for the murderers--but they
+are gone--again, his strangely fascinated eye turns to that object of
+horror. Is it the agitation of a death struggle which causes it now to
+swing to and fro in the dusky air? The thought that life may not yet be
+extinct gives him new strength--he runs--he flies to Major Scott's
+lodgings, for from him alone is he secure of aid in his present purpose.
+
+As Mr. Sinclair approached the house in which Major Scott had found
+accommodations for himself and his prisoner, he found himself no longer
+in darkness. More than one burning torch threw a lurid light upon the
+scene, while the men who held them, and perhaps as many as twenty more
+stood clustered together, near the house, against which some of them
+were engaged in elevating a ladder. In what service that ladder might
+have been last used Mr. Sinclair shuddered to think. Perfect stillness
+reigned in this party. Their few orders were given in whispers.
+
+Keeping cautiously in shadow, and moving with stealthy steps, Mr.
+Sinclair passed them and reached the house. Even when there, he had
+little hope of making Major Scott hear him without alarming them, and he
+could not doubt that they would do every thing in their power to
+frustrate his object. But Heaven favored his merciful design--he
+touched the door and found it ajar. All was dark as midnight within it,
+and he had scarcely taken a step when he stumbled against a man whose
+voice sounded fiercely even in the low whisper in which he ejaculated,
+"D--n you. Do you want to wake the Major? Don't you see you're at his
+room door?"
+
+"I see now, but it was so dark at first," whispered Mr. Sinclair in
+reply--adding with that quickness of perception and readiness of
+invention which danger supplies to some minds--"I have come to watch
+him--you are wanted."
+
+The man obeyed the intimation, and he had no sooner turned away than Mr.
+Sinclair laid his hand upon the latch of the door which had been
+indicated as Major Scott's. It yielded to his touch, and with a quick
+but cautious movement he entered the room, and closed the door behind
+him. Cautious as he was, the soldier's light sleep was broken, and he
+exclaimed hurriedly, "Who's there?"
+
+Mr. Sinclair's communication was made in a hasty whisper, and Major
+Scott only heard enough to know that his prisoner was in danger. Of Mr.
+Sinclair's worst suspicions he did not even dream when, starting to his
+feet, half dressed, as he had thrown himself on the bed, he snatched his
+pistols from under his pillow, and exclaiming to Mr. Sinclair, "Follow
+me, sir," hurried to the scene of action, the room of Captain Percy. Mr.
+Sinclair followed with rapid steps.
+
+In one respect the conspirators had been disappointed--they had not
+obtained the key of Captain Percy's room, for being now a prisoner on
+parole, he was subject to no confinement. He had, however, locked the
+door of his room himself, to guard against the incursion of curiosity
+rather than of hostility; but the lock was none of the strongest--a
+single vigorous application of Major Scott's foot to the door started
+the screws which held it, and a second burst it off and threw the
+entrance open before him. As Mr. Sinclair glanced forward, "Thank God!"
+burst from his lips, to the no small surprise of Major Scott, who saw
+little cause for gratitude in finding the object of his solicitude
+retreating, sword in hand, towards the door, while several athletic men,
+their faces dark with hate, were already pressing dangerously upon him,
+and others were crowding in at the opened window. The impetuous rush of
+his friends freed Captain Percy for a moment from his assailants, but
+they returned fiercely to the charge, too furious now to postpone their
+revenge even to their deference for Major Scott. Vain were Mr.
+Sinclair's entreaties to be heard, till their advance was stayed by the
+sight of Major Scott's firearms--weapons with which they had not
+furnished themselves, considering them useless in an enterprise to whose
+complete success silence was essential. Then first they listened to him
+as he exclaimed, "This man is innocent, and if you shed his blood it
+will call to Heaven for vengeance. I saw him myself this day oppose
+himself to two of his own countrymen to save a defenceless woman from
+injury. That woman was my daughter--some of you know her well--ah,
+Thompson! you may well hang your head--would you slay the deliverer of
+her whose good nursing saved the life of your motherless child?--Wilson,
+it was but last week that she sat beside your dying mother, and soothed
+and comforted her--but for this good and brave man she would now have
+been with her in heaven."
+
+It was only necessary to gain a hearing for such words to produce an
+influence on the rash, but not cruel men whom Mr. Sinclair addressed,
+and scarcely half an hour had passed since their entrance into the room,
+when they offered their hands in pledge of amity to him whose life they
+had come to seek. As a proof of their sincerity, they advised Major
+Scott no longer to delay his departure from the town, and some of them
+volunteered to accompany him as a guard to his country-seat.
+
+"You have saved my life," said Captain Percy, as he shook hands with Mr.
+Sinclair at parting.
+
+"And you have preserved for me all, except my duties, for which I can
+now desire to live," answered Mr. Sinclair with emotion: then turning to
+Major Scott, he added, "as soon as you consider it safe, you will, I
+hope, bring Captain Percy to visit us. In the mean time, Captain Percy,
+remember that the stranger and the prisoner are a clergyman's especial
+care, and suffer yourself to want nothing which I can do for you. By-the
+by," and he took Major Scott aside and whispered him.
+
+"Give yourself no concern about that, my dear sir," said Major Scott in
+reply, "I will attend to it."
+
+He did attend to it, and Captain Percy's drafts on his captor were
+promptly met, till he was able to open a communication with the British
+commander.
+
+In as quiet a manner as possible Major Scott and Captain Percy moved off
+from the hotel, and were met in the suburbs by their volunteer guard,
+while another party of the men whom he had thus saved from a great
+crime, attended Mr. Sinclair to his home. As he entered the area of the
+smouldering ruins his eye sought the object lately viewed with so much
+horror. He had scarcely glanced at it, when one of his companions
+stepped up and disengaged a dark cloak from the noose already prepared
+for its expected victim--"I knew no one would steal it from the
+gallows," said the man, as he threw it over his shoulders. Mr. Sinclair
+smiled to think how easily imagination had transformed that harmless
+object into the fair proportions of a man.
+
+Nothing more was heard of Captain Percy for weeks--dreary weeks to many
+in Havre de Grace--melancholy weeks to the inmates of the parsonage, who
+missed at every turn the familiar step and voice which had been life's
+sweetest music to their hearts. At length Mr. Sinclair received a note
+from Major Scott, announcing his own approaching departure to the army
+on our northern frontier, and requesting permission for Captain Percy
+and himself to call on Mr. and Miss Sinclair. Permission was given--the
+call was made, and they who had met only in scenes of terror and dismay,
+amidst flushing looks and fierce words, now greeted each other with
+gentlest courtesy among sounds and sights of peace. The call was
+succeeded by a visit of some days, and this by one of weeks, till at
+last it seemed to be understood that the parsonage was to be the home of
+Captain Percy while awaiting the exchange which Major Scott had promised
+to do all in his power to expedite. His society was at the present time
+peculiarly pleasing to Mr. Sinclair, who was diverted from his own sad
+thoughts by the varied intelligence of the soldier and traveller in many
+lands. Mary Sinclair had been unable to meet her deliverer without a
+thrill of emotion which communicated an air of timidity to her manner,
+whose usual characteristic was modest self-possession. Captain Percy, at
+thirty-five, had outlived the age of sudden and violent passion, but he
+had not outlived that of deep feeling. A soldier from boyhood, he had
+visited almost every clime, and been familiar with the beauties of
+almost every land, yet in this lovely and gentle girl, whom he had
+guarded from ill, and whom he now saw in all the pure and tender
+associations of her home, blessing and blessed, there was something
+which touched his heart more deeply than he liked to acknowledge even to
+himself. Again and again when he saw the soft, varying color that arose
+to her cheek at his sudden entrance, or heard the voice in which she was
+addressing another, sink into a more subdued tone as she spoke to him,
+did he take his hat and wander forth, that he might still in solitude
+his bosom's triumphant throb, and reason with himself on the folly of
+suffering his affections to be enthralled by one from whom, ere another
+day passed, he might be separated by orders which would send him
+thousands of miles away, and detain him, perhaps, for years.
+
+"If I thought her feelings were really interested," he would say to
+himself at other times--"but nonsense--how can I be such a coxcomb--all
+she can feel for me is gratitude."
+
+This last sentiment was echoed by Mary Sinclair, who, when
+self-convicted of unusual emotion in Captain Percy's presence, ever
+repeated, "It is only gratitude."
+
+One evening Mr. Sinclair retired after tea to his study, leaving his
+daughter and his guest together. He had not been gone long when a
+servant entered with the letters and papers just brought by the
+semi-weekly mail, which conveyed to the inhabitants of Havre de Grace
+news of the important events then daily transpiring in distant parts of
+the country. The only letter was a somewhat bulky one for Captain Percy.
+Mary received the papers and commenced reading them, that she might
+leave her companion at liberty. Had she been looking at him she would
+have seen some surprise, and even a little annoyance in his countenance
+as his eyes rested on the seals of his dispatch. He opened it, and the
+annoyance deepened. He read it more than once. Minutes passed in perfect
+silence, and Mary began to wonder what correspondent could so deeply
+interest him. A heavy sigh made her look up. His letter lay open on the
+table before him, but he had evidently long ceased to read, for his arm
+rested upon it, while his eyes were fixed with an expression at once
+intent and mournful on her. Mary thought only of him as she said, "I
+hope you have no painful intelligence there, Captain Percy."
+
+"I suppose I ought to consider it very joyful intelligence--I am no
+longer a prisoner--I have been exchanged, and"--he hesitated, looked
+away, then added rapidly--"I am ordered immediately to join my regiment
+in Canada."
+
+A quick drawing of the breath, as though from sudden pain, met his
+ear--his heart beat quickly, but he would not embarrass her by a glance.
+There was a slight rustling of her dress, and turning he saw that she
+had risen, and with one hand pressed upon the table for support, was
+advancing to the door. Falteringly, one--two--three steps were taken,
+and completely overcome, pale and ready to faint, she sank upon a sofa
+near her. He sprang forward, but she motioned him away, and covering her
+face with her hands, burst into tears--tears of shame as well as of
+sorrow. For an instant he stood irresolute--but only for an instant,
+when bending over her, he whispered, "Dare I hope that you sympathize
+with me, Mary--that the feeling which made even liberty painful to me
+since it separates me from you, is not confined to my own bosom?"
+
+Mary's sobs ceased--but she spoke not--moved not.
+
+"Answer me, dear Mary--remember I have little time to woo, for my orders
+admit of no delay in their execution--I must leave you to-morrow. Rise
+then above the petty formalities of your sex, and if I may indeed hope
+ever to call you mine, let me do so this night--this hour--your father
+will not, I think, fear to commit you to my tenderness."
+
+Mary uncovered her face, and raised her eyes for an instant to his, with
+an expression so confiding that he thought his suit was won, and
+pressing her hand to his lips, he said, "That glance tells me that you
+are my own, Mary. My life shall prove my gratitude--but now I must seek
+your father--_our_ father--will you await us here?"
+
+"I have something to say to you--sit down and hear me," said Mary, in a
+voice which she strove in vain to raise above a whisper.
+
+He placed himself beside her on the sofa, still clasping the hand he had
+taken, and with a voice faltering and low at first, but gathering
+strength as she proceeded, Mary resumed:--"I will not attempt--I do not
+wish to deny that you have read my heart aright--that--that you who
+saved me are--are--" a lover's ear alone could detect the next
+words--"very dear to me--but I cannot--I think I ought not----"
+
+She paused, and Captain Percy said, "You are not willing to intrust your
+happiness to one so lately known."
+
+"Oh, no! you mistake my meaning--I can have no doubt of you--no fear for
+my own happiness--but my father--who will care for him if I, his
+daughter, his only child, thus give myself to another at the very time
+that he needs me most?"
+
+"I will not take you from him--at least not now, Mary--give me but the
+right to call you mine, and I will leave you here in your own sweet
+home--not again, I trust, to be visited by war--till peace shall leave
+me at liberty to return to England with my bride--my wife."
+
+He would have clasped her to him as he named her thus, but Mary
+struggled almost wildly to free herself, exclaiming, "Oh! plead not thus
+lest I forget my father in myself--my duty in love--the forgetfulness
+would be but short--I should be unhappy even at your side, when I
+thought of the loneliness of heart and life to which I had condemned
+him."
+
+"But he should go with us--he should have our home. It will be a simple
+home, Mary--for though I come of a lordly race, I inherit not their
+wealth--but it will be large enough for our father."
+
+"Kind and generous!" exclaimed Mary, as she suffered her fingers to
+clasp the hand in which they had hitherto only rested, "would that it
+might be so--but that were to ask of my father a sacrifice greater even
+than the surrender of his daughter--the sacrifice of his sense of duty
+to the people who have chosen him as their spiritual father--and to whom
+he considers himself bound for life."
+
+Captain Percy remained silent long after she had ceased to speak, with
+his eyes resting on her downcast face. At length in low, sad tones, he
+questioned, "And must we part thus?"
+
+Mary's lips moved, but she could not speak.
+
+"I will not ask you to remember me, Mary," he resumed, "for if
+forgetfulness be possible to you, it will perhaps be for your happiness
+to forget--yet--pardon me if I am selfish--I would have some little
+light amidst the darkness gathering around my heart--may I hope that had
+no duty forbidden you would have been mine?"
+
+She yielded to his clasping arm, and sinking on his bosom, murmured
+there, "Yours--yours ever and only--yours wholly if I could be yours
+holily."
+
+From this interview Mary retired to her chamber, and Captain Percy
+sought his host in his study. After communicating to Mr. Sinclair the
+contents of the dispatch he had just received, he continued, "I must in
+consequence of these orders leave you immediately--but before I go I
+have a confession to make to you. You will not wonder that your lovely
+daughter should have won my heart; but one hour since, I could have said
+that I had never yielded for an instant to that heart's suggestions--had
+never consciously revealed my love, or endeavored to excite in her
+feelings which, in my position and the present relations of our
+respective countries, could scarcely fail to be productive of pain. I
+can say so no longer. The moment of parting has torn the veil from the
+hearts of both--she loves me,"--there was a joyous intonation in Captain
+Percy's voice as he pronounced these last words. He was silent a moment
+while Mr. Sinclair continued to look gravely down--then suddenly he
+resumed--"Pardon my selfishness--I forget all else in the sweet thought
+that I am loved by one so pure, so gentle, so lovely. But though I have
+dared without your permission to acknowledge my own tenderness, and to
+draw from her the dear confession of her regard, there my wrong has
+ended--she has assured me that she could never be happy separated from
+you, and that you are wedded to your people." Mr. Sinclair shaded with
+his hand features quivering with emotion. "At present," continued
+Captain Percy, "these feelings, which are both of them too sacred for me
+to contest, place a barrier between us, and I have sought from her no
+promise for the future--if she can forget me--" Captain Percy paused a
+moment, then added abruptly--"may a happier destiny be hers than I could
+have commanded--but, sir, the time may come when England shall no longer
+need all her soldiers--an orphan and an only child, I have nothing to
+bind me to her soil--should I seek you then, and find your Mary with an
+unchanged heart, will you give her to me?--will you receive me as a
+son?"
+
+"Under such circumstances I would do so joyfully," Mr. Sinclair replied,
+"yet I cannot conceal from you now that I grieve to know that my
+daughter must wear out her youth in a hope long deferred at best,
+perhaps never to be realized."
+
+Both gentlemen were for a few minutes plunged in silent thought. Captain
+Percy arose from his seat--walked several times across the room, and
+then stopping before the table at which Mr. Sinclair was seated, resumed
+the conversation.
+
+"Had I designedly sought the interest with which your daughter has
+honored me," he said, "your words would inflict on me intolerable
+self-reproach, but I cannot blame myself for not being silent when
+silence would have been a reproach to her delicacy and a libel on my own
+affection. Now, however, sir, I yield myself wholly to your cooler
+judgment and better knowledge of her nature, and I will do whatever may
+in your opinion conduce to her happiness, without respect to my own
+feelings. If you think that she can forget the past, and you desire that
+she should"--his voice lost its firmness and he grasped with violence
+the chair on which he leaned--"I will do nothing to recall it to her
+memory. It is the only _amende_ I can make for the shadow I have thrown
+upon her life--dark indeed will such a resolve leave my own."
+
+"It would cast no ray of light on hers. Be assured her love is not a
+thing to be forgotten--it is a part of her life."
+
+"And it shall be repaid with all of mine which my duties as a soldier
+and subject leave at my disposal. Do not think me altogether selfish
+when I say that your words have left no place in my heart for any thing
+but happiness--I have but one thing more to ask you--it is a great
+favor--inexpressibly great--but----"
+
+"Nay--nay," Mr. Sinclair exclaimed, gathering his meaning more from his
+looks and manner than from the words which fell slowly from his
+lips--"ask me not so soon to put the irrevocable seal upon a bond which
+may be one of misery."
+
+"If your words be true--if her love be a part of her life, the
+irrevocable seal has been already affixed by Heaven, and I only ask you
+to give your sanction to it, that by uniting her duty and her love, you
+may save her gentle spirit all contest with itself, and give her the
+fairest hope of future joy."
+
+It was now Mr. Sinclair's turn to rise and pace the floor in agitated
+silence--"I know not how to decide so suddenly on so momentous a
+question," he at length exclaimed.
+
+"Suppose you leave its decision to her whom it most concerns. It is for
+her happiness we are most anxious--so entirely is that my object that I
+would not influence her determination even by a look. I will not even
+ask to be present when you place my proposal before her; but I must
+repeat, sir, if you design to do it, there is no time to be lost, for I
+must be on my way to Canada to-morrow."
+
+"So be it then--she shall choose for herself, and Heaven direct her
+choice!"
+
+"Amen!" responded Captain Percy, as Mr. Sinclair turned from the door.
+He heard him ascend the stairs, and ask and receive admission to his
+daughter's room. Then he counted the seconds as they grew into
+minutes--the minutes as they extended to a quarter of an hour--a
+half-hour--and rolled slowly on towards the hour which lacked but little
+to its completion, when his straining ear caught the sound of an opening
+door, and then Mr. Sinclair's sedate step was heard slowly descending
+the stairs and approaching the study. Captain Percy met him at the door,
+and looked the inquiry which he could not speak. Mr. Sinclair replied to
+the look, "She is yours!"
+
+"May I not see her and receive such a confirmation of my hopes from her
+own lips!"
+
+"Not to-night--I have persuaded her to retire at once--she needs repose,
+and we must be early astir. Your marriage must for many reasons be kept
+secret at present, and as I could not, I fear, find witnesses here on
+whose silence I could rely, we will accompany you in the morning to
+Major Scott's, and there, in the presence of his wife and sister, your
+vows shall receive the sanction of the church. You must have some
+preparation to make, and I will bid you good night, for there are
+certain legal preliminaries necessary to the validity of a marriage
+here, to which I must attend this evening--unusual as the hour is."
+
+There was a strange mingling of emotion in the hearts of the lovers as
+they stood side by side within that room in the gray dawn of the next
+morning. In a few hours they were to part, they knew not for what
+distance of space or duration of time. It might be that they should
+never after this morning look upon each other's faces in life; yet, ere
+they parted, there was to be a bond upon their souls which should make
+_them_ ever present to each other, should give them the same interests,
+should, as it were, mould their beings into one. Sacred bond of God's
+own forming, which thus offers the support of a spiritual and
+indissoluble union amidst the separations and changes of this
+ever-varying life! No such strength and peace are to be found in the
+frail and casual ties for which man in his folly would exchange this
+bond of Heaven.
+
+Few words were spoken during the burned breakfast at the parsonage, or
+the drive to Major Scott's, for deep emotion is ever silent. Yet not for
+them were the coy reserves often evinced by hearts on the verge of a
+life-union--the faltering timidity which hesitates to lift the veil from
+feelings in whose light existence is thenceforth to pass. They could not
+forget that they were to part, and even Mary hesitated not to let her
+lover read in her eyes' shadowy depths the tenderness which might soothe
+the parting pang, and whose memory might brighten the hours of
+separation.
+
+Why should we linger on a scene which each heart can depict for itself?
+With solemn tenderness the father pronounced the words which transferred
+to another the right to his own earthly sanctuary--the heart of his
+daughter--and committed to another's keeping--his last and brightest
+earthly treasure. That treasure was soon, however, returned, for a time,
+to his care. The vows of the marriage rite had scarcely been uttered,
+when with one long clasp--one whispered word--one lingering look--the
+disciplined soldier turned from his newly-found joy to his duties. Never
+had Mary seemed more lovely in his eyes or her father's than in that
+moment, when with quivering lips, eyes "heavy with unshed tears," and
+cheeks white with anguish, she yet smiled upon him to the last. Nor did
+her heroic self-control cease when he was gone. Her father was still
+there, and for him she endured and was silent. Only by her languid
+movements and fading color did he learn the bitterness of her soul
+through the weary months of her sorrow. Weary months were they indeed!
+
+One letter she received from Captain Percy, written before he had
+passed beyond the limits of the United States. It breathed the very soul
+of tenderness. "My wife!" he wrote, "what joy is summed in that little
+word--what faith in the present--what promise for the future! I find
+myself often repeating it again and again with a lingering cadence,
+while your gentle eyes seem smiling at my folly." Long, long did Mary
+wear this letter next her heart, and still no other came to take its
+place.
+
+They had parted in 1813, just as the falling leaves came to herald the
+approach of winter. That winter passed with Mary in vain longing and
+vainer hopes. Spring again clothed her home with beauty, but there came
+no spring to her heart. Summer brought joy and gladness to the earth,
+but not to her, and another autumn closed over her in anxious suspense.
+There were moments when she could almost have prayed to have that dread
+silence broken even by a voice from the tomb--other times in which she
+threw herself on her knees in thankfulness that she could yet hope. From
+Major Scott she had heard that Captain Percy's regiment had been sent to
+the South, but of him individually even Major Scott knew nothing. At
+length came the eighth of January, that day of vain triumph on which
+thousands fell in the contest for rights already lost and won--the
+treaty of peace having been signed at Ghent on the twenty-fourth of the
+preceding month. Forgetful of this useless hecatomb at war's relentless
+shrine, America echoed the gratulations of the victors which fell with
+scathing power on the heart of the trembling Mary. How could she hope
+that he, the fearless soldier, had escaped this scene of slaughter! If
+he had, surely he would now find some way to inform her of his safety,
+but weeks passed on, and passed still in silence.
+
+During this long period of suspense, no doubt of the tenderness and
+truth of him she loved had ever sullied Mary's faith. Mr. Sinclair was
+not always thus confiding, and once, on seeing the deadly pallor that
+overspread her face on hearing the announcement of "no letters"--he
+uttered words of keen reproach on him who could so wrong her gentle
+heart.
+
+"Oh, father!" Mary exclaimed, "speak not thus--be assured it is not his
+fault--remember that no license could tempt him to wrong the
+defenceless--think how honorable he was in suppressing his own feelings
+lest their avowal should bring sorrow on us--and when my self-betrayal
+unsealed his lips, how delicate to me, how generous to you was his
+conduct--and who but he could have been so rigid in his observance of a
+soldier's duty, yet so inexpressibly tender as a man! I loved him
+because I saw him thus true and noble--and having seen him thus how can
+I doubt him? He may be no longer on earth, but wherever he is, he is my
+true and noble husband, and you will not again distress me, dear father,
+by speaking as though you doubted him."
+
+"Never," said Mr. Sinclair emphatically, and he never did, though he saw
+her form grow thinner, and her cheek paler every day, and before the
+winter was gone heard that deep, hollow cough from her, which has so
+often sounded the knell of hope to the anxious heart. With the coming on
+of summer this cough passed away, but Mary was oppressed by great
+feebleness and languor--scarcely less fatal symptoms. Still she omitted
+none of those cares essential to her father's comfort--while to the
+poor, the sick, the sorrowing, she was more than ever an angel of mercy.
+With feeble steps and slow she still walked her accustomed round of
+charity, and thus living for duty she lived for God, and had His peace
+shed abroad in her heart, even while sorrow was wearing away the springs
+of her life. She loved to sit alone and send her thoughts forward to the
+future--not of this life, but of that higher life in which there shall
+be no shadow on the brightness of our joy--where love shall be without
+fear--no war shall desolate--no opposing duty shall separate--no death
+shall place its stony barrier between loving hearts. With a mind thus
+occupied, she wandered one day, in the latter part of August, through
+the garden of the parsonage and the yard immediately surrounding the
+church into the little inclosure beyond, within which was the green and
+flowery knoll that marked her mother's last resting-place. As she turned
+again towards her home the sound of a carriage driven rapidly by caused
+her to look towards the road which lay about a hundred yards distant.
+The carriage rushed by, and she caught but a glimpse of a gentleman
+leaning from its window. In another moment a grove of trees had hidden
+both the carriage and its occupant from her sight--yet that glimpse had
+sent a thrill through her whole frame--a mist passed over her eyes, and
+with eager, trembling steps, she proceeded on her way. As she reached
+the garden, she thought she saw her father approaching it from the
+house, but her path led through a summer-house, and when she had passed
+through it he was no longer visible. Every thing in the house wore its
+usual air of quietness on her entrance, and with a feeling of
+disappointment, for which she could not rationally account, she turned
+her steps towards her father's study. As she drew near the door she
+heard his voice--the words, "I dread to tell her," met her ear and made
+her heart stand still. One step more and she was at the door--she looked
+eagerly forward, and with a glad cry sprang into the extended arms of
+her husband.
+
+It was long before any of the party were sufficiently composed for
+conversation. When that time came, Captain or rather Colonel Percy heard
+with surprise that no letters had been received from him since his
+joining the army in Canada. He had written often, but had been obliged
+to send his letters to some distant post-town by his own servant. As he
+had declined accompanying Colonel Percy to America, there was reason to
+suppose that he had suspected the character of the correspondence,
+perhaps had acquainted himself fully with the contents of the letters,
+and had taken effectual means to prevent their reaching their
+destination, with the hope of thus completely removing from Colonel
+Percy's mind every inducement to return to this country. Having received
+a disabling though not dangerous wound at the battle of New Orleans,
+Colonel then Major Percy was sent home with despatches, and was
+immediately ordered to join the army under Lord Wellington, then rapidly
+hastening to repel the attempt of the prisoner of Elba to re-establish
+himself on the throne of France. From this period till the battle of
+Waterloo all private concerns were merged in the interest and the hurry
+of great public events. In that battle Major Percy was again slightly
+wounded. His distinguished bravery was rewarded by his being made again
+the bearer of despatches to England. As it was evident to all that the
+struggle which had called the whole force of Britain into the field was
+now at an end, he had no hesitation in asking and no difficulty in
+obtaining leave of absence from the commander-in-chief, and had lost no
+time in embarking for America.
+
+"As a consequence of peace," said Colonel Percy in conclusion, "a large
+part of our force will be disbanded, and many officers put on half-pay.
+A friend who is very influential at head quarters has undertaken to
+secure me a place on the list of the latter--and henceforth, dear Mary,
+your home is mine!"
+
+"And did you never doubt me during all this long silence?" he asked of
+his happy wife a few days after his return.
+
+"Never," said Mary firmly, and then added in a more playful manner--"if
+I should step into the confessor's chair, could you answer as boldly?"
+
+"I can, Mary--though I never received a line from you, it never occurred
+to me to fear any change in your affection. Our marriage had placed on
+it the seal of duty, and your conduct in relation to your father had
+shown me that that seal you could not easily break."
+
+"Then you did not love me less for not yielding every other
+consideration to the gratification of your wishes?" said Mary,
+endeavoring to speak lightly, but betraying deeper feeling by the slight
+tremor in her voice, and the quick blush mantling in her cheek.
+
+"Love you less!" exclaimed Colonel Percy warmly--"my love had been
+little worthy of your acceptance, dearest, had it been lessened by
+seeing that your principles were paramount even to your affections.
+Happy would it be for all your sex, Mary, did they recognize as the only
+test of a true and noble love, that it increases with the increase of
+esteem, and finds more pleasure in the excellence of its object than in
+its own selfish triumphs."
+
+Ere the winter of 1815 had set in, Mary's rounded form and blooming
+cheek relieved all Mr. Sinclair's apprehension of her consumptive
+tendencies, and proved that her love was indeed, as he had said, "a part
+of her life."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+
+
+The New-Year's day--the day after which the year is no longer new--is
+come and gone; and while sitting here to record its events before I
+sleep, I look back at it with pleasure, chastened by such thoughts as
+the young seldom have. I believe of all such eras the aged may say as
+the poet says of his birthday:
+
+              "What a different sound
+    That word had in my younger years!
+    And every time the chain comes round,
+    Less and less bright the link appears."
+
+To all, these eras mark their progress on the journey of life; but to
+the young they are bright with the promise of a happier future; the
+aged, they direct to the grave of the buried past, and they read on them
+the inscription so often found on the Roman monumental stones, "Siste,
+Viator." Travellers are we from time to eternity, and it is well that we
+should meet with these imperative calls to stand and consider. Cheered
+by the Christian's hope, we can stand; we can look steadily on the past,
+count the lengthening line of these memorials of our dead years, and
+feel that but few more probably lie between us and the river of death,
+yet, strong in the might of Death's great Conqueror, "bate no jot of
+heart or hope."
+
+These are grave though not sad thoughts; too grave to mingle readily
+with the record of mirthful scenes, howsoever innocent may have been the
+mirth. I must, therefore, lay aside my pen, and reserve the description
+of our New-Year for tomorrow.
+
+Our New-Year opened with a cold and cloudless morning, and our party met
+at breakfast with faces as bright as the sun. Gifts were exchanged
+between the parents and children, the brothers and sisters--gifts,
+trifling in themselves, but dear from their association with the
+cherished givers. It was an endearing sight to see the venerable parents
+receiving from their children testimonies of that affectionate
+consideration which the care and tenderness of years had so well
+deserved. Tears were on Mrs. Donaldson's cheeks, and even the Colonel's
+eyes glistened as they clasped one after another of their children to
+their hearts, and invoked on them the blessing of Heaven. From this
+scene Mr. Arlington and I had stood aloof, silent, but not uninterested
+spectators. As the excitement of the principal actors subsided, we
+approached and tendered our hearty congratulations, and received equally
+hearty congratulations in return. Neither had Aunt Nancy been altogether
+forgotten in the mementos of affection provided for the day; and I
+thought Mr. Arlington looked a little envious as Annie, with a kiss,
+threw around my neck a chain woven of her own hair, and suspended to it
+the eye-glass which I always wore. I do not know but his envy may have
+been somewhat allayed by a very handsomely decorated copy of an English
+work on sporting, with which Col. Donaldson presented him. He had
+scarcely found time, however, to admire it, when all attention was
+attracted to Philip Donaldson, who entered with a servant bearing the
+mysterious box to which I have before alluded.
+
+"There is my New-Year present to you, Annie," he said, as he began to
+open it. All drew near and looked on with interest, yet few felt much
+surprise when, the cover being removed, a Greek dress was disclosed.
+From the rich head-dress of silvered muslin to the embroidered slipper,
+all was complete. Annie looked on with a smile as he displayed piece
+after piece--yet her smile wore some appearance of constraint; and when
+Philip, drawing her to him, kissed her cheek and said, "Not a word for
+me, Annie!" with her thanks were mingled some hesitating expressions of
+apprehension that this dress would be very conspicuous, concluding with
+the timid question, "Do you really wish me to wear it this evening,
+Philip?"
+
+"Certainly, Annie. It was in order to show you in this dress that I
+proposed fancy dresses for this evening; you will not disappoint me?"
+
+"Certainly not--at least not willingly--I will wear it. If I wear it
+ungracefully you will forgive me?"
+
+"I am not afraid of that," said Philip, as he glanced at her glowing
+face with a brother's gratified pride.
+
+Miss Donaldson advised that Annie should try on the dress at once, as
+she prudently suggested it might require some alteration.
+
+"Come with me, Aunt Nancy," said Annie as she left the room to comply
+with this advice.
+
+"Come back here and let us see you, Annie, when you have put it on,"
+said Col. Donaldson.
+
+Annie would have passed from the room without an answer, evading the
+compliance which she could not refuse, but the Colonel called her back
+and did not dismiss her till assured that the request, which he knew
+would be regarded as a command, had been heard.
+
+The dress needed no alteration. We afterwards found that Philip had sent
+his friend a measure procured from Annie's maid, and the fit was
+perfect. I am not quite sure that Annie, as she saw the beautiful figure
+reflected in her glass, regretted the command which compelled her to
+show herself to the party awaiting her in the library, to which we had
+withdrawn from the breakfasting room, that we might not interfere with
+the household operations, of which the latter was, at this hour, the
+scene. Yet it was with a little coy delay and blushing timidity that
+she, at length, suffered me to lead her thither.
+
+"Beautiful!"--"I never saw her look so well!"--"I knew it would become
+her!" were the exclamations that greeted her, on her entrance, deepening
+the flush upon her cheek, and calling up a brighter smile to her lips.
+Mr. Arlington alone was silent, but his soul was in his eyes, and they
+spoke an admiration compared to which the words of others were tame.
+
+"My dear Annie," said her mother, as she gazed delightedly upon her,
+"how I wish I had a likeness of you in that dress!--you do look so
+remarkably well in it."
+
+Mr. Arlington stepped forward. "Would you permit me--" to Mrs.
+Donaldson--"Would you do me the favor--" to Annie--"Might I be
+allowed--" with a glance at the Colonel, "to gratify Mrs. Donaldson's
+wish. It should be my New-Year's offering. I would ask only an hour of
+your time--" deprecatingly to Annie. "That would give me an outline
+which I could fill up without troubling you."
+
+Mr. Arlington was so earnest, and Mrs. Donaldson so gratefully pleased,
+that if Annie had any objections, they were completely overborne. Mr.
+Arlington produced his sketching materials, and disposed his subject and
+his light, and then intimated so plainly that the consciousness of the
+observation of others would be fatal to his success, that we withdrew,
+leaving only Philip with a book in a distant corner "to play propriety,"
+as he whispered to me on passing, with a mischievous glance at the
+blushing Annie.
+
+And now the reader doubtless thinks, that in the engraving prefixed to
+this volume, he has a copy of the sketch made on this New-Year's
+morning. In this, however, he deceives himself, for the work of this
+morning amounted to the merest and most unfinished outline, which would
+have stood for Zuleika as well as for Annie Donaldson. Yet instead of
+one hour, Annie generously allowed Mr. Arlington nearly to triple the
+time. How he was occupied during all this time, I cannot tell, though
+that he did not spend all of it in drawing I had ocular demonstration.
+
+Nearly three hours, as I have said, had passed since we left the
+library, when, looking from my window, I saw Philip, returning to the
+house on horseback. Having left in the library a book in which I was
+much interested, I had been waiting somewhat impatiently for Annie's
+appearance, to satisfy me that I might without intrusion return thither
+for it. I now concluded, somewhat too hastily, as it afterwards proved,
+from seeing Philip abroad, that the sitting was at an end, and
+accordingly went for my book. I entered noiselessly, I suppose--I am
+usually quiet in my movements--by a door directly opposite to the seat
+which Mr. Arlington had arranged for himself, and behind the sofa on
+which, at his desire, Annie had been seated when I left her. There still
+was Mr. Arlington's seat, and before it a table with the drawing
+materials and unfinished sketch, but Mr. Arlington was on the sofa
+beside Annie. He was speaking, but in tones so low, that even had I
+wished it, I could not have heard him; but the few seconds for which
+surprise kept me chained to the spot, were sufficient to suggest the
+subject of those murmured words. The reader will probably conjecture
+that subject without aid from me, when I tell him what I saw. Of Annie,
+as she sat with her back to me, I could only see the drooping head and
+one crimson ear and cheek; Mr. Arlington's face was turned to her, and
+was glowing with joy, and as it seemed to me with triumph. Before I had
+turned away, he raised her hand to his lips. I saw that it rested
+unresistingly in his clasp; and gliding through the door by which I
+stood, I closed it softly and left them unconscious of my presence.
+
+The invitations had been given for the early hour of half-past seven,
+and at seven, by previous arrangement, our own party collected in the
+library dressed for the evening. There stood Col. Donaldson in the
+uniform of a continental major, gallantly attending a lady whose fine
+dark eyes and sweet smile revealed Mrs. Seagrove, notwithstanding the
+crimped and powdered hair, patched face, hoop, furbelows, and
+farthingale, which would have carried us back to the days of Queen Anne.
+Mrs. Dudley, in similar costume, was attended by Philip Donaldson, who
+looked a perfect gentleman of the Sir Charles Grandison style in his
+full dress, with bag-wig and sword. Arthur Donaldson, in the graceful
+and becoming costume of the gallant Hotspur, was seated with his Kate by
+his side, and if Kate Percy looked but half as lovely in her bridal
+array as did her present representative, she was well worthy a hero's
+homage. But in the background, evidently shrinking from observation,
+stood a figure more interesting to me than all these--it was our "sweet
+Annie" as Zuleika--our Bride, _not_ of Abydos--leaning on the arm of a
+Selim habited in a costume as correct and as magnificent as her own, yet
+who could scarcely be said to _look_ the character well; the open brow
+of Mr. Arlington, where lofty and serene thought seemed to have fixed
+its throne, and his eyes bright with present enjoyment and future hope,
+bearing little resemblance to our imaginations of the wronged and
+desperate Selim, whose very joy seemed but a lightning flash, lending
+intenser darkness to the night of his despair. I was the last to enter
+the room, and as I approached Mr. Arlington, he presented me with a very
+beautiful bouquet. I found afterwards that he had made the same graceful
+offering to each of the ladies at the Manor, having received them from
+the city, to which he had sent for his Greek dress and Philip's wig. Put
+up in the ingenious cases now used for this purpose, the flowers had
+come looking as freshly as though they had that moment been plucked. The
+bouquet appropriated to Annie differed from all the others. It was
+composed of white camelias, moss-rose buds, and violets. As I was
+admiring it, Annie pointed to one of the rose-buds as being eminently
+lovely in its formation and beautiful in its delicate shading. It was
+beautiful, but my attention was more attracted by the sparkling of a
+diamond ring I had never before seen upon her finger. The diamond was
+unusually large, the antique setting tasteful. With an inconsideration
+of which I flatter myself I am not often guilty, I exclaimed in
+surprised admiration, "Why, Annie, where did you get that beautiful
+ring?"
+
+The sudden withdrawing of the little hand, the quick flushing of cheek,
+neck, brow, told the tale at once; a tale corroborated by the smiling
+glance which met mine as it was turned for a moment on Mr. Arlington.
+Her confusion was beautiful, but he was too generous to enjoy it, and
+strove to bring me back to the flowers.
+
+"Have you ever seen some beautiful verses, translated from the German,
+by Edward Everett I believe, entitled 'The Flower Angels?'" he asked.
+
+"I never did; can you repeat them?"
+
+He answered by immediately reciting the verses which I here give to the
+reader.
+
+
+THE FLOWER ANGELS.
+
+    As delicate forms as is thine, my love,
+    And beauty like thine, have the angels above;
+    Yet men cannot see them, though often they come
+    On visits to earth from their native home.
+
+    Thou ne'er wilt behold them, but if thou wouldst know
+    The houses in which, when they wander below,
+    The Angels are fondest of passing their hours,
+    I'll tell thee, fair lady--they dwell in the flowers.
+
+    Each flower, as it blossoms, expands to a tent
+    For the house of a visiting angel meant;
+    From his flight o'er the earth he may there find repose,
+    Till again to the vast tent of heaven he goes.
+
+    And this angel his dwelling-place keeps in repair,
+    As every good man of his dwelling takes care;
+    All around he adorns it, and paints it well,
+    And much he's delighted within it to dwell.
+
+    True sunshine of gold, from the orb of day,
+    He borrows, his roof with its light to inlay;
+    All the lines of each season to him he calls,
+    And with them he tinges his chamber walls.
+
+    The bread angels eat, from the flower's fine meal,
+    He bakes, so that hunger he never can feel;
+    He brews from the dew-drop a drink fresh and good,
+    And every thing does which a good angel should.
+
+    And greatly the flowers, as they blossom, rejoice
+    That they are the home of the angel's choice;
+    And again when to heaven the angel ascends,
+    The flower falls asunder, the stalk droops and bends.
+
+    If thou, my dear lady, in truth art inclined,
+    The spirits of heaven beside thee to find,
+    Reflect on the flowers and love them moreover,
+    And angels will always around thee hover.
+
+    A flower do but plant near thy window-glass,
+    And through it no spirit of evil can pass;
+    When thou goest abroad, on thy bosom wear
+    A nosegay, and trust me an angel is near.
+
+    Do but water the lilies at break of day,
+    For the hours of the morn thou'lt be whiter than they;
+    Let a rose round thy bed night-sentry keep,
+    And angels will rock thee on roses to sleep.
+
+    No frightful dreams can approach thy bed,
+    For around thee an angel his watch will have spread;
+    And whatever visions thy Guardian, to thee,
+    Permits to come in, very good ones will be.
+
+    When thus thou art kept by a heavenly spell,
+    Shouldst thou now and then dream that I love thee right well;
+    Be sure that with fervor and truth I adore thee,
+    Or an angel had ne'er set mine image before thee.
+
+The visitors soon began to arrive. There were among them some amusing
+characters, so well supported as to give rise during the evening to many
+entertaining scenes; but to me this was the group and this the incident
+of the evening. Not a group or an incident for prurient curiosity or
+frivolous jest, but for an earnest and reverent recognition of that
+beautiful law imposed on Nature by her Great Author, by which the feeble
+delight in receiving, and the strong in giving support--that law by
+which a pure and self-abnegating affection is made the source of life in
+all its commingling relations--of its duties and its sympathies--its
+joys and its sorrows--of its severest probation and its loftiest
+development.
+
+It was in the solemnity of spirit, engendered by thoughts like these,
+that I stood at the window of my room, looking forth upon the still and
+moonlit night, long after our friends had left us. My door opened softly
+and Annie glided in, and ere I was aware of her presence, was standing
+beside me with her head resting on my shoulder. A tear was on the cheek
+to which I pressed my lips. A few whispered words told me whence the
+ring came--but not for the public are the pure, guileless confidences of
+that hour.
+
+Our holiday festivities were over, and the next day the Christmas Guests
+departed. They had stepped aside awhile from the dusty thoroughfares on
+which they were accustomed to pursue their several avocations, for the
+interchange of friendly sympathy with each other, and the offering of
+grateful hearts to Heaven, and now they were returning, cheered and
+strengthened to their allotted work. Reader, go thou and do likewise
+
+    "Like a star
+    That maketh not haste,
+    That taketh no rest,
+    Let each be fulfilling
+    His God-given best."
+
+THE END.
+
+
+
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+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 1: I know not the author of this beautiful hymn. It will be
+found in a collection of great merit, called "Songs of the Night."]
+
+[Footnote 2: For this sketch, which for beauty of description, and wild,
+thrilling interest, will compare favorably with any known to me, I am
+indebted to my friend, Mr. C. Whitehead. M. J. Mc.]
+
+[Footnote 3: Plato calls Truth the body of God, and Light His shadow.]
+
+[Footnote 4: These lines were extracted from a satirical poem published
+many years since, under the title of "The Devil's Progress."]
+
+
+
+
+
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