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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/20185-8.txt b/20185-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..07eddd5 --- /dev/null +++ b/20185-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,15995 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Eventide, by Effie Afton + +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: Eventide + A Series of Tales and Poems + +Author: Effie Afton + +Release Date: December 26, 2006 [EBook #20185] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK EVENTIDE *** + + + + +Produced by Curtis Weyant and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was +produced from images produced by the Wright American Fiction +Project.) + + + + + + + EVENTIDE + + A SERIES OF + + TALES AND POEMS. + + + + BY + + EFFIE AFTON. + + + "I never gaze + Upon the evening, but a tide of awe, + And love, and wonder, from the Infinite, + Swells up within me, as the running brine + From the smooth-glistening, wide-heaving sea, + Grows in the creeks and channels of a stream, + Until it threats its, banks. It is not joy,-- + 'Tis sadness more divine." + + ALEXANDER SMITH. + + + + BOSTON: + + FETRIDGE AND COMPANY. + + 1854. + + + + Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1854, by + + J. M. HARPER, + + In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the + District of Massachusetts. + + + + Stereotyped by + HOBART & ROBBINS, + New England Type and Stereotype Foundery, + BOSTON. + + + + + _To the_ + + FIRESIDES OF THE WESTERN WORLD, + + _With the fond Hope_ + +THAT ITS PAGES MAY SERVE TO ENLIVEN OR ENTERTAIN SOME FEW OF THOSE EVENING +HOURS WHEN PLEASANT FACES GATHER ROUND WARM, GLOWING HEARTH-STONES, + + _This simple Volume_ + + IS UNOBTRUSIVELY PRESENTED, + + BY THE + + UNKNOWN AND NAMELESS AUTHOR, + + WHO WOULD + + RATHER FIND WARM HEARTS AMONG HER READERS THAN WIN THE LAURELS OF + A TRANSITORY FAME. + + + + Transcriber's Note: + + There are two instances of illegible words in this text, both as + a result of ink blots. They have been indicated as [illegible]. + + + + + PREFACE. + + +When the sun has disappeared behind the western mountains, and the stars +sparkled o'er the blue concave, we have been accustomed to sit down to +the compilation of this unpretending volume, and therefore it is called +"Eventide." O, that its pages might be read at that calm, silent +hour,--their follies mercifully overlooked, their faults as kindly +forgiven. + +Fain would we dedicate this "waif of weary moments" to some warm-hearted, +watchful spirit, who might shelter it from the pitiless assaults of the +wide, wide world. But will not our simple booklet prove too insignificant +a mark for the critic's arrows? + +In the language of another, we confidently say, melancholy is indifferent +to criticism. + +Thus, + + "In our own weakness shielded," + +O, Reading Public, we steal upon you 'mid the falling shadows, and lay +"Eventide" at your feet. + + + + + CONTENTS. + + + PAGE + +WIMBLEDON; OR, THE HERMIT OF THE CEDARS, 7 + +SCRAGGIEWOOD, A TALE OF AMERICAN LIFE, 245 + +ALICE ORVILLE; OR, LIFE IN THE SOUTH AND WEST, 329 + +COME TO ME WHEN I'M DYING, 401 + +ELLEN, 404 + +I'M TIRED OF LIFE, 405 + +LINES TO A FRIEND, ON REMOVING FROM HER NATIVE VILLAGE, 407 + +HO FOR CALIFORNIA! 409 + +N. P. ROGERS, 411 + +LINES, 413 + +HENRY CLAY, 415 + +THE SOUL'S DESTINY, 417 + +LINES TO A MARRIED FRIEND, 419 + +NEW ENGLAND SABBATH BELLS, 421 + +MY HEART, 423 + +OUR HELEN, 425 + +MY BONNET OF BLUE, 427 + +DARK-BROWED MARTHA, 429 + + + + + WIMBLEDON; + + OR + + THE HERMIT OF THE CEDARS. + + + + + CHAPTER I. + + "The stars are out, and by their glistening light, + I fain would whisper in thine ear a tale; + Wilt hear it kindly? and if long and dull + Believe me far more deeply grieved than thou." + + +Clear and loud on the hushed silence of the midnight hour rang the chimes +of the village clock, from the tall steeple-tower of the quaint old +church of Wimbledon, while several ambitious chickens rose from their +neighboring perches, piped a shrill answering salute, and sank to their +nocturnal slumbers again. But nor clock nor chanticleer disturbed +Wimbledon. Still she slept on beneath the blossoming stars; and by their +soft, inspiring light, with your permission, gentle reader, we'll enter +the sleeping village. + +Dim gleams of snowy cottages, peeping through a wealth of embowering +vines, steal on our star-lighted vision as we roam along the grassy +streets, and we scent the breath of gardens odorous with the sweets of +dew-watered flowers. Above and around we hear the musical stir of the +night wind among boughs and branches of luxuriant foliage, while ever and +anon it comes from afar with a deep-toned, solemn murmur, as though it +swept o'er forests of cedar and mournfully-echoing pine. Still roaming +on, the low rippling of flowing waters comes soothingly to our ears, and +we pause on the bank of a flower-bordered river that goes sweetly singing +on its way to the distant ocean. A tiny sailboat lies in a sheltering +cove, rocked gently to and fro by the swaying current. On a hill beyond +the stream we mark a large white-belfried building, relieved against a +dark background of wide-stretching timber-land. And turning our delighted +footsteps down an avenue of lofty cedar and linden trees, there rises at +length before our vision a splendid mansion, built after a most beautiful +style of architecture, with deep, bay windows, long corridors and +vine-covered terraces. Magnificent gardens, displaying the perfection of +taste, lay sloping to the southward. On the east the silvery river was +seen glancing through the shrubbery that adorned its banks. To the west +lay a beautiful park and pleasure ground, while far away to the northward +stretched the deep, dense forest, tall, dark and sombre. + +And over all this lovely scene the stars shed their mild, ethereal light. +O, Wimbledon! art thou not beautiful 'neath their soft, silver gleams? +And doth not shadowy-vested romance roam thy grassy paths and +flower-strewn ways to-night, and with her wild, mysterious eyes gloating +on thy entrancing scenery, doth she not resolve to dwell awhile, 'mid thy +embowering vines, thy dewy-petalled flowers, mournfully-musical +cedar-groves, and web a fiction from the thousand tangled threads which +complicate and ramify thy social life? + +We shall see what we shall see in Wimbledon; for gray dawn is already +breaking in the dappled east, and a man, closely buttoned to the chin in +a gray overcoat, emerges from a large brick mansion on the outskirts of +the village, and directs his steps toward an old, black, rickety-looking +house, which stands just on the bank of the river, surrounded by a +tangled growth of brush-wood. + +Here the gairish day at length disclosed what the modest night had +obscured with her diamond veil of stars. Squalid poverty glared through +the broken window-panes, and want seemed clattering her doleful song on +the flying clapboards and crazy casements. A feeble, struggling light +from within showed the inmates were stirring as the man in the overcoat +gave a loud, careless thump on the trembling door, which was opened by a +pale, gaunt-looking urchin, clad in garments bearing patches of divers +hues. + +"Is your mother at home, Bill?" inquired the man, gruffly. + +"Yes, sir," answered the boy in a meek tone; "will you please to walk in, +Mr. Pimble?" + +"No; tell her I want her to come and wash for me to-day," said the man, +in a harsh, rough voice, as he turned away. + +The boy bowed and reëntered the miserable apartment, where a few soggy +chips smoked on a bed of embers that were gathered in the corner of a +huge fire-place. A woman, with a begrimed cotton handkerchief tied over +her head, sat on the hearth endeavoring to blow them into a blaze, while +the smoke, that poured down the foul and blackened chimney, caused the +tears to roll from her eyes, and baffled her efforts. + +"Never mind the fire, mother," said the lad, approaching; "I'll try and +pick up some dry sticks in course of the day to have the room warm when +you come home to-night. Mr. Pimble has just called, and wants you to go +and wash for him to-day." + +"He won't pay me a cent if I go," answered the woman moodily; "all my +drudgery for that family goes to pay the rent of this miserable old +shell." + +"I think he will give you something to-day, mother, if you tell him how +needy we are," suggested the boy. + +"Never a cent," said the woman, with a gloomy shake of her head; +"however, I may as well go. I shall get a cup of tea and bit of dinner, +and I'll look out to bring you a cake, Willie." + +"O, will you, mother?" exclaimed the boy, his wan features brightening +momentarily at the prospect of a single cake to appease the gnawings of +hunger. + +The woman threw a coarse, threadbare blanket over her shoulders and went +forth, while the boy bent his way along the riverbank in search of dry +twigs and branches with which to replenish their wasted stock of fuel. +And he thought, as he picked up here and there the scanty sticks and laid +them in small bundles, of some lines of poetry he read on a bit of +newspaper that blew across his path one day: + + "If joy and pain in this nether world, + Must fairly balanced be, + O, why not some of the _pain_ to them. + And some of the _joy_ to me?" + +And he could not settle the point in his youthful mind. He could not +tell why David Pimble should go to school the year round at the great, +white seminary on the hill, while he could only go about two months in +the cold, biting winter to a town-school a mile distant. He could not +tell why said David should have warm woollen jackets, while his were +threadbare and patched with rags; nor why David should fare sumptuously +on buttered toast and smoking muffins, while he starved on the crusts +that were cast from his well-spread table. + +All these were knotty points which poor little Willie Danforth was too +young and untaught to solve. When he should be older and wiser, would he +be able to solve them? He didn't know;--he hoped so; though he feared he +never would be much wiser than now, if he was always to remain so poor, +and be debarred from the privilege of attending school. + +There's one school whose doors are and have ever been open wide for +Willie--the school of poverty and experience. Lessons swift and bitter +are indelibly impressed on the minds of the pupils there. + +Thoughtful and abstracted, Willie wandered along, gathering his little +bundles of firewood, till he found himself at the foot of the hill on +which stood the great, white seminary where David Pimble, his brother and +sister, went to school month after month and year after year. He heard +voices, and, looking up, beheld the little group that were occupying his +thoughts, on the hill-top, laughing and mocking at him as he toiled along +with his bundles of sticks. His cheeks glowed with anger for a moment, +and then grew ashy pale, as he plodded on toward his miserable home. + +Dilly Danforth, the poor washerwoman, had seen better days; but the +drunken dissipation of a husband, who was now in his grave, had reduced +her to abject, despairing poverty. Her unfortunate marriage and +persistence in clinging to the man of her choice, and enduring all his +abuses, excited the displeasure of her family, and they cast her from +them to suffer and struggle on as best she might. She knew not as she had +a relative in the world. She surely had no friend, save Willie, her +little boy, with whom she dwelt in the comfortless abode we have briefly +visited. + +Alas for the suffering poor! How prone are the wealthy, by warm, glowing +grates, to forget their cheerless habitations, and turn inhumanly from +their pitiful tales of want and destitution! + + + + + CHAPTER II. + + "This work-day world, this work-day world, + How it doth plod along!" + + +Tap, tap, tap, on the back kitchen door of Esq. Pimble's great brick +mansion, and a clattering of plates and tea things within which quite +drowned the timid knock. A second and louder one brought a fat, red-faced +woman with rolled-up sleeves and a dish-towel in hand, to answer the +summons. + +"Sakes, Dilly Danforth!" exclaimed she, on beholding the well-known, +faded blanket of the washerwoman; "what brings you here so airly in the +mornin'? If you are after cold victuals, I can tell you you can't have +any, for mistress--" + +"I am not come seeking charity," said Dilly, cutting short the woman's +brawling speech; "Mr. Pimble wished me to come and wash for him to day." + +"_He_ did?" said the bold-visaged housekeeper, opening her large, +buttermilk-colored eyes with astonishment; "well, for sure!"--and here +she seemed debating some matter in her mind for several moments, her hand +still holding the door in forbidding proximity to poor Mrs. Danforth's +pale, grief-worn face. + +"Well, you can come in then, I s'pose," she said, at length, flinging it +open spitefully, and returning to the wiping of her breakfast dishes, +which she sent together with such a crash, that poor Dilly, as she stood +over the stove trying to warm her chilly fingers by a decaying fire, +momentarily expected to see them scattered over the floor in a thousand +fragments. + +"Sakes! are you cold this warm spring morning?" snarled the plump, +well-fed housekeeper, as she thumped back and forth, carrying her piles +of plates to the cupboard. "Why don't you shut the outside door after +you, then? For my part, I'm most roasted to death." + +"You have been in a warm room, while I have not seen a fire this +morning," said Dilly, meekly, as she closed the door and returned to her +place by the stove. + +"Well, I wish I hadn't," answered the ireful Mrs. Peggy Nonce;--"a hard +fate is mine; sweltering over a great fire all my life, to cook for a +family that don't know nothing only to make the work as hard as they can. +Now, here's Mr. Pimble goes and gets you here to wash; never tells me a +word about it till you come right in upon me just as I have got my +breakfast things cleared away, settin'-room swept out, and fire all down +in the kitchen. I s'pose you have had nothing to eat to-day, for you +always come half starved, though why you do so I don't know, save to make +me work and get all you can out of us. When Mr. Pimble rents you that +great house so cheap, too! I declare, I should think, with all that man's +trials, he would get to be a hypocrite and believe in total +annihilation." + +Dilly made no reply to this speech. Probably the latter part was beyond +her simple comprehension. + +Mr. Pimble himself, the man of trials, as his housekeeper affirmed, now +opened the sitting-room door and looked forth. He was habited in a long, +faded, palm-figured bed-gown, all muffled up round his chin, and +sheep-skin slippers without heels. He had a lank, pale, discouraged +visage, and thin, light hair, streaked with gray, in a very untidy state +straggling about his face. He pulled his wrapper up yet closer about his +head, when he discovered the washerwoman, and shambled across the +clean-swept floor, his heelless slippers going clip-clap after him, as he +stalked along. What a gaunt, unhealthy-looking personage was the rich +Peter Paul Pimble, Esq., of Mudget Square! + +"Well, you are come, then, are you?" said he, glancing toward the kitchen +clock, which was on the stroke of eight; "pretty time to commence a day's +work." + +"And she has had no breakfast; and the water is not in the kettles," put +in dame Peggy. "I could have had that all hot for her, if you had just +told me she was comin' to wash. But some folks always like to be so sly +and underhanded." + +"Stop your clack!" said the master, turning toward her with an angry +glance, "and get a bite of something to eat while she is putting her +water on and building a fire. I shall be at home through the day to +superintend matters and see that all is done to my wishes." + +Thus saying, he scuffled back to his warm fire in the parlor; for, though +it was a bright morning in the early part of May, and odorous flowers +opening their petals to the genial sunbeams, and groups of singing birds +merry on all the foliage-covered trees, still Esq. Pimble was +cold--always cold, summer and winter. No genial influence could warm his +sluggish blood, or impart a glow to his dry, parchment-colored face. + +There he sat; his feet poised on the fender, and a newspaper in his +skinny clutch, from which he seemed to read. Now and then he yawned, +stretched himself, approached the window, gazed forth for a moment with +some anxiety depicted on his expressionless face, and then sunk down in +his cushioned chair again. All the while the washing was going on briskly +in the kitchen. Peggy Nonce had outlived her morning's asperity, and +concluded to bake a batch of dried apple pies, as there must be a fire +kept in the stove for Billy, and it would save burning the wood another +day for the express purpose of cooking operations. So it appeared dame +Peggy, with all her tempers, had one good point at least, and one but +seldom found in servants,--a lookout for her employer's interests. The +bluffy housekeeper was given to gossip, too, as all of her class are; and +who could give her a better synopsis of the private affairs of half the +families in Wimbledon, than Dilly Danforth, the washerwoman, who +performed the drudgery and slop-work in many of the fine homes of the +upper class? But, after all, Peggy had more to give than receive; for by +some means the poor washerwoman did not seem possessed of the "gift of +gab." She was lamentably ignorant on many points where Peggy thought, +with her advantages, _she_ would have been well-informed and able to +answer any question proposed. And so the news-loving housekeeper, though +she remembered her master's interests in the article of firewood, was +fain to forget them in a matter of far more importance, and broached +forth into a long tale of his trials and domestic discomforts. Warming +with her discourse as she proceeded, her voice grew so shrill and +vehement, that Mr. Pimble, had he not been deeply engaged in poring over +the trials his loquacious housekeeper was so eloquently setting forth to +her silent and rather inattentive listener, he would have discovered +himself the hero of a tale which might have lost Mrs. Peggy Nonee a +place she had occupied half a lifetime. But Mr. Pimble sat in bed-gown +and slippers till dinner was announced at one P.M., and the three young +Pimbles tumbled into the hall in boisterous glee, just escaped from the +restraint of school discipline. They all rushed to the table at once, +and called for half a dozen kinds of food in a voice, which the glum, +abstracted father heaped indiscriminately on their plates. There was no +sound save the clatter of knives and forks for several minutes, while +the interesting family discussed their amply-provided and well-prepared +meal. At length Master Garrison Pimble, a lad of a dozen years, declared +sister Sukey had got the biggest piece of venison pie. Susan, a little +girl of seven summers, said she "didn't care if she had; she ought to +have." + +"No, you oughtn't either," returned Master Garrison, "for you are not +half as big as I." + +"I don't care for that," lisped Susan; "mammy says women ought to have +the best and most of everything, and do just what they like to, and go +just where they want to." + +"Well, they shouldn't do any such thing, should they, father?" demanded +the argument-loving Garrison. + +"Eat your dinners quietly, my children," returned the silent father, "and +not meddle with matters you do not understand." + +"But I do understand them," continued the youth. "I know sister Sukey +ought not to have the largest piece of pie, and she shan't." + +Thus saying, he made a dive at Miss Susan's plate, and bore off her +generous slice of venison pastry on his fork. Susey screamed at the top +of her voice, and, clutching her hands in her brother's hair, she pulled +it so vigorously he was fain to drop his prize, which fell to the carpet +and was devoured by a half-starved grimalkin, while he boxed his sister's +ears soundly for her vixen attack upon his bushy black hair. + +"I'll learn you to pull my hair!" said he, with a very red face. + +"I'll learn you to steal my pie!" shrieked she, as, maddened by her +smarting ears, she flew at him and dug long, bloody scratches in his +cheeks with her sharp little nails. The father now parted the combatants, +and shut the warlike Susey in the closet, where she was loud in +pronouncing maledictions against her brother, and heaping vituperations +upon her father; declaring, when mammy came home, she would tell her how +she was abused in her absence, and mammy would take sides with her, +because she knew men were all cross and ugly, and tried to hurt and wrong +poor feeble woman. Garrison and David finished their meal in silence; and +when the seminary bell rang to announce the hour for reöpening of school, +Mr. Pimble liberated Susey, and all went shouting off together. + +Then he called in Dilly and the housekeeper, and, while they dined on the +fragments, went out in the kitchen to inspect the progress there. All +seemed to be moving on well, and, as he was returning to his seat by the +sitting-room fire, a covered buggy drove to the front piazza, and a +gentleman descended and assisted two ladies to alight. Directly the +parlor was dashed open, and the trio made their entry. Foremost was the +mistress of the mansion, Mrs. Judith Justitia Pimble. What a puny, +trembling thing appeared the husband, as he stood there like a galvanized +mummy in presence of that tall, portly woman, with her broad shoulders +and commanding aspect! Her first act was to smother the fire; her second, +to throw open the windows; her third, to ensconce herself in her liege +lord's easy-chair, and bid her guests lay aside their travelling garbs, +and make themselves at home. Finding his comfortable seat appropriated, +and no notice vouchsafed him, Mr. Pimble shuffled off into the kitchen. + +"Was that your husband, sister Justitia?" inquired the lady visitor, as +she threw off her shawl and bonnet, with an energetic toss. + +"Yes," answered the majestic lady in her most majestic tone, "that was +Pimble. You will not mind him at all; he is as near nothing as can be,--a +mere crank to keep the machine in motion,--you understand. He has his +sphere, however. The lowest brute animals have theirs. Pimble's is to +stay at home and superintend the minor matters of life, such as milking +the kine, feeding the chickens, and slaughtering a lamb occasionally to +subserve the grosser wants of poor human nature. In brief, all those +trivial and perplexing things in which a superior mind cannot be supposed +to feel an interest, and by which it is not right it should be fettered, +and prevented from soaring to its own lofty sphere of thought and +action." + +Mrs. Pimble paused for breath as she delivered herself of the above +voluble speech, and the lady visitor replied: + +"You speak heroicly, sister Justitia. I see you have obtained your +rightful position in your own household. O, would that all our crushed +and down-trodden sisters were possessed of but a tithe of your energy and +independence of character! Then would our young Reform, which encounters +on every side the swords and pickaxes of infuriate battalions of the +tyrant man, ride in triumphal chariot over our whole broad country's +proud domain!" + +"Ah, sister Simcoe, how doth your inspired language fill my soul with +fire! I rejoice that you are come among us. How will your presence +encourage our ranks, and, in the triumph of your medical skill, vile male +usurpers of the healing art shall sink to rise no more! I long to read +again the proceedings of our late convention, the thrilling speeches, the +sweeping resolutions!" + +"Let us thus occupy ourselves," said young Dr. Simcoe, turning toward a +remote corner of the apartment where sat the small man who had +accompanied the ladies, perched on a hard, uncushioned chair, his hands +folded in his lap, and his eyes bent studiously on the carpet. This was +the personage on whom the accomplished young medical practitioner had, a +few months previous, condescended to bestow the princely honor of her +hand. + +"Sim," said the eloquent wife, as she glanced carelessly upon him, "where +are the portmanteaus?" + +"In the entry," answered the small man, raising his eyes for a moment to +his fair consort's face. + +"Bring them in and open them," said the lady, again sinking down in her +soft seat. + +The small man disappeared in a twinkling, and the portmanteaus were soon +placed on the table, and their contents spread forth. + +"I will now order some refreshment," said Mrs. Pimble;--"and while it is +preparing, we can amuse ourselves with the documents. What would you +prefer for your dinner, sister Simcoe?" + +"Pea soup," returned the lady doctor; "that is my uniform dish,--simple +and plain." + +"And Mr. Simcoe, what would he choose?" + +"O, he has no choice!--anything that comes handiest will do for him." + +Mrs. Pimble glanced toward Mr. Simcoe. Mr. Simcoe simpered and bowed. So +Mrs. Pimble swept into the kitchen to issue her commands. She started on +beholding Dilly Danforth bending over a wash-tub filled to the brim with +smoking linen, just out of a boiling suds. Darting one fiery glance +toward her forceless husband, sitting humped up over the stove, his head +supported on his hands, she exclaimed, "What does this mean?" Mr. Pimble +looked up vacantly; Peggy turned round from her occupation of washing the +dinner dishes, and Dilly kept to her wash-tub. No one seemed to +understand to whom the stately mistress addressed her brief +interrogatory. "Have you all lost your tongues?" at length exclaimed Mrs. +Pimble, in a louder tone; and, seizing her husband's chair, she gave it a +rough jerk, and demanded, "Are you dumb, Peter Pimble? What is that +beggar-woman,"--pointing toward Dilly,--"doing here?" + +"Don't you see she is washing?" returned the husband, rather ironically. + +"Well, by whose leave?" + +"Mine." + +"Yours?--and why have you brought a washerwoman into the house in my +absence, and without my permission?" + +"Because all my linen was dirty." + +"What if it was?" + +"I wanted it washed." + +"What for?" + +"Because the spring courts are held in Olneyville next week." + +"What if they are?" + +"I would like to attend." + +"You would, would you? No doubt, and confine me at home to superintend +the domestic affairs. No, Mr. Pimble, you don't enslave me in that +manner. I'm a free woman, and acknowledge no man master. I'll see if I'm +not mistress in my own house. Here, Dilly Danforth, take your hands out +of that wash-tub, and pack off home, instanter. There will be no more +washing done in my house to-day, or ever again, unless I order it done. +And you, Peggy Nonce, make a pea soup and broil a nice steak, with all +the appropriate dishes, and have a dinner prepared in half an hour, to +serve myself and guests." + +There was an instant commotion in the kitchen, and the mistress swept +back to her guests in the parlor. + + + + + CHAPTER III. + + "She is a saucy wench, + Somewhat o'er full + Of pranks, I think--but then with growing years + She will outgrow her mischief and become + As staid and sober as our hearts could choose." + + OLD PLAY. + + +Mr. Salsify Mumbles was a grocer in a small way, and his good wife took +boarders,--young ladies and gentlemen from different parts of the +country, who came to attend Cedar Hill Seminary, a school of high repute +and extended celebrity. Her number was limited to three this summer, +because she conceived her health to be delicate, and because Mr. Salsify +had communicated to her in private that he was certainly "rising in his +profession;" and the quick-sighted lady foresaw the day speedily +approaching when she would no longer be obliged to perplex herself with +so ungrateful a class of beings as boarders, but should roll through the +streets of Wimbledon in her coach and four, the "observed of all +observers." + +Mrs. Mumbles had one fair daughter, Mary Madeline, upon whom she doted +with true maternal fondness. This young lady was most perversely inclined +to smile upon one Mr. Dick Giblet, a clerk in her father's grocery. Mrs. +Mumbles was inconsolable, and Mr. Giblet was banished from the premises, +and taken into employ by the firm of Edson & Co., the largest merchants +in Wimbledon. + +Rumor said these gentlemen were so well pleased with the young man, that +they had offered him a yearly salary of several hundred dollars, and +proposed, should he continue to perform his duties as well as hitherto, +to take him into the firm, on his coming of age. Mrs. Salsify now began +to regard Dick with different eyes, as what prudent mother would not? She +sent Mary Madeline to the store of Edson & Co., whenever she was in want +of a spool of cotton or yard of tape; but the young clerk had grown so +vain with his elevation, that he looked very loftily down upon her, bowed +in the most distant manner, and never exchanged more words with her than +were necessary in the buying and selling of an article. So Mary Madeline +told her mother, and upbraided her as the cause of the young man's cold +treatment. Mrs. Salsify bade her daughter be of good cheer. "'Twas all a +feint on Dick's part, to conceal his love till he was sure of hers,--all +would come round right in time." But Mary Madeline would not believe it, +and said she should die if she had to stay in the back store alone so +much, sorting spices and writing labels, for she was constantly thinking +of Dick, who used to be with her. She must have something to divert her +attention; and, at length, Mrs. Salsify hit upon the project of sending +her to school at the seminary one term. It was fitting that the daughter +of the rich Mr. Mumbles that was to be, should be possessed of suitable +polish and refinement to adorn the high circles in which her position +would call her to move. So Miss Mumbles answered to her name among the +two hundred scholars, male and female, that had assembled in the halls of +Cedar Hill Seminary, for the summer term. Quite a sensation she produced +in her gay muslin dress and fiery-colored silk apron; for Mrs. Salsify +declared her resolve to dress her tip-top. She was not the woman to half +do a thing, when she undertook; she always came up to the mark, or went a +little beyond. Better overshoot than fall short, was her motto. And when +Mary Madeline came home, on the evening of her debut at the seminary, +walking between the two young lady boarders, Amy Seaton and Jenny +Andrews, Mrs. Mumbles could not avoid drawing a comparison between the +three; and her daughter appeared to her like a blazing star between two +sombre clouds, for Miss Seaton and Miss Andrews, who were both orphans, +wore plain, dark gingham frocks and linen aprons. The third boarder was a +little brother of Miss Seaton's, about a dozen years of age. Charlie was +his name; a bright, intelligent boy, brimful of mischief and fun. + +Mrs. Salsify kept no girl;--she could not find a good one, she said,--a +bad one she would not have, as long as she could manage to perform her +work herself, which she thought she could do with Mary Madeline's +assistance nights and mornings. It would not be for long, she trusted, +this slavery to boarders, for Mr. Salsify continued to inform her, at +stated intervals, that he was certainly "rising in his profession." + +The husband and wife sat alone one evening, indulging in confidential +discourse, as 'tis said conjugal mates are wont to do on certain +occasions. + +"Really," exclaimed Mrs. Mumbles, "it is astonishing, the quantity of +victuals these boarders consume. It is so unfeminine and indelicate for +young ladies to have appetites. I declare it quite shocks me to see the +large slices of bread and butter disappearing down Jenny Andrews' little +throat, and, as for that Charles Seaton, I believe he would eat a whole +plum pudding if he could get it. I left off making them long ago." + +"I have not noticed one on the table for several days," returned Mr. +Salsify, "and, as I saw the last one was sent away untouched, I feared +they had detected the musty raisins." + +"O, la, no! the greedy mugs don't know the difference, I assure you," +answered the wife, "'twas only because they had stuffed themselves so +full of veal pie, that the pudding was not devoured." Just then Amy +Seaton came in and asked if she might get a lunch for Charlie, as he was +not in season for supper. + +"O, yes!" answered Mrs. Salsify, in her blandest tone; "here are the +keys. I lock the pantry because Mr. Mumbles is so absent-minded he often +leaves the door open, and the cat gets in and devours the victuals. Get +just what you want for Charlie and a lunch for yourself and Jenny if you +choose." + +"Thank you," said Amy taking the bunch of keys from Mrs. Salsify's hand. +Wide swung the pantry door on its creaking hinges, and Amy's eyes +brightened as she stepped in, thinking of the little feast they were to +have up stairs on the good lady's sudden fit of generosity. She glanced +her light eagerly along the shelves in search of pies and sweet cakes, +for she had seen Mrs. Salsify baking a large amount of good things that +morning; but nothing met her wistful gaze save a plateful of burnt +gingerbread crusts which had been picked over and left after the +evening's meal, a plate of refuse meat, and a few bits of salt cod-fish +in a broken saucer. She was about to go and tell Mrs. Mumbles her pantry +was destitute of victuals, when she recollected that lady superintended +her own work, and she should only inform her of what she already knew. +Several similar instances of the lady's singular generosity now occurred +to her mind. She recollected one day, on coming in unexpectedly from +school, of finding Mrs. Salsify buying a large quantity of cherries, and +of her saying she was going to pick them over, and would set them on the +dairy shelf where she might go and eat of them whenever she chose. But +Amy could not find them anywhere, and when she innocently asked Mrs. +Salsify where she had put them, that good lady, after blushing and +stammering a good deal, said they proved so dirty she was obliged to +throw them away. This and other similar occurrences decided Amy to say +nothing of the destitution of the pantry. So she returned the keys to her +boarding mistress, and, without a word, ascended to her room, where she +gave Charlie the bit of fish and crust of gingerbread she had obtained. + +"Is this all I'm to have for my supper?" said he, looking ruefully on the +scanty, unpalatable food. + +"'Tis all I can find in the pantry, bub," answered Amy; "can't you make +it answer for to-night? and to-morrow I will buy you something nice at +the bakery." + +"Why," said Jenny, raising her dark, fun-loving eyes from a problem in +Euclid, "I saw Mrs. Mumbles baking mince pies, and custards and plum +cake, this morning." + +"Bah," said Charlie, "I don't want any of her plum cake if she puts the +same kind of raisins in it she does in her puddings. But, Jenny, I think +I know where she keeps her nice victuals." + +"Where?" asked Jenny, with an earnest look on Charlie's cunning face. + +"Have you never noticed that great tin boiler under her bed?" Jenny burst +into an uncontrollable fit of laughter, which Amy vainly endeavored to +silence, and directly Mary Madeline appeared and said, "Mother would like +to have a little less noise if they could favor her, as she had company +below." Then the three sat down on the floor, and Jenny and Charlie +planned a midnight attack upon the tin boiler. Amy, who was more sedate +and cautious, advised them to desist; but 'twas just the exploit for +Jenny's frolicsome, mischievous temperament. Charlie was to take a +pillow-case, and creep softly under the bed, and fill it from the +supposed contents of the mysterious boiler, while Jenny stood at the +kitchen door to assist him in bearing the precious burden to their room. +How slow the hours passed after the plot was formed ere it could be +carried into execution! Mrs. Salsify in the parlor below kept wishing her +visitors would go, for she had never seen the wicks in the camphene lamps +of so surprising a length. They flooded the whole room with light, and +she recollected Jenny Andrews had asked the privilege of trimming them +after they were last used. She dared not rise and pick them down, for +such narrow-souled persons as she are always fearful that the truth will +be known and their littleness exposed; so she sat in a perfect fever, +watching the fluid getting every moment lower, and scarcely heeding the +remarks of her guests. At length they took their departure, and Mrs. +Salsify rushed in a sort of frenzy to the lamps, and dropped the caps +over the blazing wicks. + +"Mary Madeline," said Mr. Mumbles, reprovingly, "don't you know how to +trim a lamp properly? Enough fluid has been wasted to-night by means of +those long wicks to last two evenings with wicks of a proper length." + +"'Tis none of Maddie's doings," returned Mrs. S., "she is more prudent +than that. 'Twas that hussy of a Jenny Andrews who trimmed them after +Miss Pinkerton was here the other night." + +"Well, the girl ought to pay for the waste she has occasioned," said Mr. +Salsify, gruffly. "Let us retire now; I declare 'tis near eleven +o'clock." The conspirators in the room above heard with eager ears the +departure of the guests, and sat in perfect silence till midnight chimed +from the old clock tower. Then Charlie Seaton, pillow-case in hand, crept +silently down the stairs with Jenny close behind him. Mrs. Mumbles' +bed-room opened out of the kitchen, and the door was always standing +ajar. Thus Charlie's quick eye had detected the boiler while sitting at +the dining table directly opposite her room. As he now paused a moment in +the kitchen before crossing the forbidden precincts, the deep-drawn +sonorous breathings convinced him that Mr. and Mrs. Salsify Mumbles were +lulled in their deepest nocturnal slumbers. Gently dropping on his knees, +he crawled softly to the object of plunder. Lucky chance! the cover was +off, and the first thing his hand touched was a knife plunged to the hilt +in a large loaf. This he captured and deposited in his bag. Then followed +pies, tarts, etc., and last a small jar, which he took under his arm, +and, thus encumbered, crept on all-fours to the kitchen door, where Jenny +relieved him of the jar. They softly ascended the stairs, where Amy was +ready to receive them. + +"How dared you take that jar?" said she; "what does it contain?" + +"I don't know," said Charlie; "but I know what my pillow-case contains. +It was never so well lined before, Amy." + +Thus saying, he commenced removing its contents, while Jenny pulled the +knife out of the loaf, which proved to be pound cake, uncovered the jar, +and pronounced it filled with cherry jam. "Ay," said Amy, "there's where +those cherries I saw her buying of Dilly Danforth went, then. She told me +they were so dirty she had to throw them away. But I think you had better +go and carry these things back." + +"Never," said Charlie; "I am going to eat my fill once in Mrs. Mumbles' +house." + +"But what will she say when she discovers her loss?" + +"That is just what I'm anxious to know," said Jenny. + +"So am I," returned Charlie, chopping off a large slice of pound cake and +dividing two pies in halves. "The old lady goes in for treating her +visitors well, don't she? I dare say these condiments were intended to +supply her guests for years. I wish we had some spoons to eat this cherry +jam." + +"You had better carry that back," said Amy. + +"No, I will not go down on my knees and crawl under Mrs. Salsify's bed +again to-night on any consideration." + +"Neither would I," said Jenny, "the old adage is 'as well be killed for a +sheep as a lamb;' so let us enjoy ourselves to the utmost in our power. +Here is food enough, of the best kind too, to serve us well for the +remainder of our stay here, only a week longer you know. I'll keep it +locked in my trunk." + +So saying, they cleared away, and Charlie bade good-night, and all +retired to bright visions of pound cake and cherry jelly. + + + + + CHAPTER IV. + + "She was a lovely little ladye, + With blue eyes beaming sunnily; + And loved to carry charity + To the abodes of misery." + + +There was a tiny bark floating down the flower-bordered river that wound +so gracefully through the beautiful village of Wimbledon, and a smiling +little lady, in a neat gingham sun-bonnet, sat coseyly in the stern, +beneath the shady wing of the snow-white sail. A noble-looking lad plied +the oar with graceful ease, chatting merrily the while with the little +girl, and laughing at her constant and matronly care of a large basket +which was placed beside her, neatly covered with a snowy napkin. "One +would think that there were diamonds in that basket, Nell, you guard it +so carefully," said he. + +"No, only nice pies mother gave me leave to take to Aunt Dilly Danforth, +the poor washerwoman," returned the little miss, again smoothing the +napkin and adjusting the basket in a new position. "I wish you would row +as carefully as you can, Neddie, so as not to jostle them much." + +"So I will, sis," returned he; "let's sing the Boatman's Song as we glide +along." And their voices rose on the calm summer air clear and sweet as +the morning song of birds. Now and then their light barge touched the +shore, and Ned plucked flowers to twine in Ellen's hair. O, that ever, +down life's uncertain tide, these innocent young spirits might float as +calmly, happily on to the broad ocean of eternity! + +"Is that the old shanty where Dilly lives?" said the lad at length, +pointing to a low black house, just beyond a clump of brushwood, which +they were swiftly approaching. + +"Yes," said Ellen, gathering up her basket. + +"Here I must lose you, then," said Ned; "how I wish you would go fishing +with me down to the cove!" + +Ellen smiled. "Are you going to be all alone, Neddie?" asked she. + +"Nobody but Charlie Seaton will be with me. You like him." + +"Yes, I like him well enough," said Ellen, innocently; "but I would not +care to go a-fishing with him." + +"Why not, sis?" inquired Ned. + +"Because it would not be pretty for a little girl to go fishing with +boys." + +"Ha, ha!" laughed the lad; "what a prudent little sis I have got! for all +the world like Amy Seaton. But I like Jenny Andrews better, she is so +full of fun and frolic. Did you know how she and Charlie Seaton robbed +old Mrs. Salsify Mumbles, one night not long since?" + +"O, no! robbed her? That was wrong, surely." + +"O, no! You see she nearly starved them, so they helped themselves to her +sweetmeats without invitation. That's all; not very wicked, I'm thinking, +Nell." + +"I think it was wicked for her not to give them enough food, and wicked +for them to take it without her knowledge," said Ellen, after a pause. +"But what did she say when she discovered her loss?" + +"Not a word. What could she say?" asked Ned. + +"I could not guess, and therefore inquired," said Ellen. "Will Jenny come +to school next term?" + +"Yes, Jenny, Amy and Charlie, and board at Dea. Allen's. That will be a +good place; only I fancy the deacon's long prayers and sober phiz will +prove a sad trial to Jenny. Well, you must go, sis," said he, pushing his +boat high up on the green, grassy bank, by a few skilful strokes of his +oar. Then assisting her out and placing the precious basket safely in her +arms, he was soon gliding down the smooth current again. Ellen directed +her steps toward the dilapidated dwelling a few yards before her, turning +frequently to catch a glimpse of her brother's little bark as it came in +view through some opening in the shrubbery that grew on the river's side. + +One timid rap brought Willie Danforth to the door. The poor boy looked +quite embarrassed to behold pretty, neat Ellen Williams standing there on +the miserable, dirty threshold. "Good day, Willie," said she, pleasantly; +"is your mother at home?" + +"No, miss, she is scrubbing floors at Mr. Pimble's," said Willie, +awkwardly enough. + +"O, I am sorry she is gone, for I wanted to see her very much. Will you +let me come in and leave this basket for her?" + +"O, yes!" answered the poor lad, "or I will carry it in for you." + +"I can carry it very well," said Ellen, "if you will only let me go in." + +"I would let you come in, Miss Ellen," returned Willie, "only I am afraid +it would frighten you to see such a sad, dirty place;" and the ragged +little fellow blushed crimson, as he thus revealed his poverty and +destitution. + +Ellen pitied his embarrassment, and said, "I should like to go in, +Willie, because, if I saw what you needed, I could tell mother, and she +would make you more comfortable, I know." + +The boy lifted the wooden latch of the inner room. The door opened with a +dismal creak, and Ellen entered. There was one old, broken-backed chair, +which he offered her, and sat down himself on a rough bench, with a +sorrowful, embarrassed expression on his pale, interesting features. +Ellen, still noticing Willie's painful confusion, knew not what to do +after placing her basket on the rude, wooden table, and began to regret +that she so strongly pressed an entrance. + +"I told you you would be frightened," said the boy at length, in a +choking tone. + +"O, I am not frightened!" returned Ellen, glad to speak now that he had +opened the way for her; "I am only sorry to find people living so +forlornly in our pretty, happy village. I thought you had a good nice +house to live in, for Mrs. Pimble said so, and that her husband rented it +to you for almost nothing, and that your mother--but I won't say any +more," said Ellen, stopping short in her discourse. + +"Yes," said Willie, "tell me all she said, and then I will tell you +something." + +"Well, then, she said your mother only went out washing to make folks +think she was needy, so they would give her food and clothing. 'Twas +wicked for her to say it, surely." + +Willie's face grew pale as death, and then flushed crimson to the +temples. + +"Don't look so," said Ellen, approaching the bench and putting her little +hand on his hot cheeks. "O, Willie! you are sick and tired," she +continued, soothingly; "will you not lay your head down on my lap, and +tell me all about your troubles?" + +Willie's full heart overflowed. Those accents of kindness, so strange to +his ears, what a magic power they had! He leaned his dear bright head on +her soft little palm, and his low voice told in broken accents a tale of +want and suffering. Ellen wept, for her young heart was full of +tenderness and sympathy. The hours sped on, while they thus held +converse, till a hand on the latch aroused them. 'Twas Dilly returned +from her day's work at Mr. Pimble's. Willie sprang up to meet her. "O, +mother!" said he, "a sweet angel has come since you left me, this +morning, crying because I was so hungry." + +"Alas, my boy!" said the woman, "I fear you must still go hungry, for I +have brought you nothing. Mr. Pimble says my week's work must go for +rent." + +Now was Ellen's moment of joy, as she bounded across the broken floor and +lifted the napkin from her basket. "No, no, Willie,--no, no, Aunt Dilly, +you shall not go hungry to bed to-night. Look what mother has sent you! +How thoughtless of me not to have remembered my basket before, when +Willie has been suffering from hunger all these long, long hours!" + +"O, no! I have not thought of being hungry since you came," said the boy. + +Mrs. Danforth approached the basket and gazed on its contents with +tearful eyes. She had not seen the like on her table for many a day, and, +dropping on her knees, she breathed a silent prayer to God for his +goodness in putting it into the hearts of his children to remember her in +her need! Willie brought forth a small bundle of sticks and lighted a +fire, while Ellen ran and filled a black, broken-nosed tea-kettle, and +hung it on a hook over the blaze. It soon began to sing merrily, and the +children laughed and said it had caught some of their happiness. Then +Ellen took some tea from the paper her mother had wrapped so nicely, put +it in a cracked blue bowl, and Willie fixed a bed of coals for her to set +it on. Dilly sat all the while gazing with tearful eyes on the two +beaming faces which were constantly turned up to hers, to see if she gave +her approval to their movements. At length the repast was prepared, and, +after partaking with them, as Mrs. Danforth insisted upon her doing, +Ellen set out for home, with Willie by her side. He hesitated some at +first, when his mother told him he must accompany her, for his jacket was +ragged and his shoes out at the toes. But when Ellen said so +reproachfully he was "too bad, too bad, to make her go all the way home +alone," he brightened, and said "he would be very glad to go with her if +she would not be ashamed of him." So they set out together, each holding +a handle of the basket; Ellen bidding Aunt Dilly a cordial good-by, and +promising to come soon again and bring her mother. They met Mr. Pimble on +their way, who scowled and passed by in silence. + +Ellen found her mother anxiously waiting her return. She heard with +pleasure and interest her little daughter's animated description of her +visit; but when she said she had promised to visit Aunt Dilly soon again, +and take her mother with her, Mrs. Williams looked sad. + +"What makes you look so, dear mamma?" said Ellen; "will you not go and +see poor Dilly?" + +"I shall be very glad to do so, my dear child," answered the fond mother, +"if it is possible. You know your father has often wished to remove to a +place where his skill in architecture might be employed to better +advantage, and an excellent opportunity now offers for him to dispose of +his situation here, and remove to a large city, where his services will +be in constant demand." + +"And I shall never see Willie Danforth again," said Ellen, bursting into +tears. + +Childhood is so simple and unaffected, ever expressing with innocent +confidence its dearest thought, and claiming sympathy! Mrs. Williams +tried long to comfort her little daughter, and at length succeeded by +holding out a prospect that she might some time return and visit her +early associates. Ned was consoled by the same prospect. But then, we +never know, when we leave a place, what changes may occur ere we revisit +its now familiar scenes. Mrs. Williams felt this truth more vividly than +her children. But few changes had marked their sunny years, and it never +occurred to their youthful minds but what Wimbledon as she was to-night +would be exactly the same should they return five or ten years hence. The +mother did not disturb this pleasant illusion, "for experience comes +quite soon enough to young hearts," she said, "and I'll not force her +unwelcome lessons upon my happy children." So Ned and Ellen, when it was +decided they should leave on the morrow, almost forgot the pangs of +departure from their rich, beautiful home, so intently were they dwelling +on the joy of returning and meeting their schoolmates and companions +after a period of separation. O, gay, light-hearted youth! What is there +in all life's after years, its gaudy pomp, its feverish flame, or +short-lived honors, that can atone for the loss of thy buoyant hopes, and +simple, trusting faith? + +Sad was poor Dilly Danforth when she heard of the sudden departure of the +benevolent Williams family, and bitterly she exclaimed, "No good thing is +long vouchsafed the poor. Our poverty will only seem the darker now for +having been brightened for a transient hour." + +Willie, who had returned from his walk with Ellen with severe pains in +his limbs and head, fell sick of a rheumatic fever, and suffered much for +the want of warm clothing, care and medical treatment. O, how often he +thought of Ellen! "If she were there he would not suffer thus. She would +be warmth, care, clothing and physician for him." + +His mother was obliged to labor every day to procure fuel for the fire; +and to warm the great, cold room, where the piercing autumn blasts blew +through wide gaping cracks and chasms, and get a bottle of wormwood +occasionally, with which to bathe his aching limbs, was the utmost her +efforts could accomplish. With this insufficient care, 'twas no wonder +Willie grew rapidly worse. One bitter cold night Dilly sat down utterly +discouraged as she placed the last stick of wood on the fire. Her boy had +been so ill for several days she could not leave him to go to her +accustomed labor, and consequently the small pile of fuel was consumed. +What was she to do? Willie was already crying of cold, and she sat over +the expiring blaze crying because she had naught to render him +comfortable. After a while he grew silent, and, softly approaching, she +found he had sunk into a quiet slumber. Carefully covering him with the +thin, tattered blankets, she pinned a shawl over her head, and, softly +closing the door behind her, stole forth into the biting night air, and +directed a hasty tread toward Mr. Pimble's great brick mansion. A bright +light gleamed through the kitchen windows as she ascended the steps and +gave a hurried knock. Directly she heard a shuffling sound, and knew Mr. +Pimble, in his heelless slippers, was approaching. Fast beat her heart as +the door opened, and she beheld his gaunt form and unyielding features. + +"What brings you here this bitter cold night, Dilly Danforth?" exclaimed +he, in a surly tone, as the furious blast rushed in his face, and nearly +extinguished the lamp he held in his skinny grasp. + +She stepped inside, and he closed the door. + +"'Tis the bitter cold night which brings me, Mr. Pimble," she said, +feeling she must speak quickly, for Willie was at home alone; "my boy is +sick and suffering from cold. For myself, I would not ask a favor, but +for him I entreat you to give me an armful of wood to keep him from +perishing." + +"Why don't you work and buy your wood?" asked he, angered by this sudden +demand upon his charity. + +"I worked as long as I could leave my child," answered Mrs. Danforth, +"and I thought maybe you would be willing to allow me something for my +work here." + +"Allow you something, woman? Don't I give you the rent of that great +house for the few light chores you do for us, which really amount to +nothing? Your impudence is astonishing;" and Esq. Pimble's voice quivered +with rage, as he thus addressed the trembling woman. + +Dilly stood irresolute, and Mr. Pimble was silent a few moments, when a +voice from the parlor called out, imperiously, "Pimble, I want you!" + +The man roused himself and rushed to the door in such haste as to lose +both his slippers. + +"What are you blabbing about out there?" Dilly heard Mrs. Pimble ask, in +an angry tone. + +"Dilly Danforth has come for some wood," was the moody reply. + +"And so you are giving wood to that lazy, foolish, stupid creature, are +you?" + +"No, I am not. She says her boy is sick and she has no fire." + +"A pretty tale, and I hope 'tis true. She'll learn by and by her sin and +folly. If she had asserted her own rights, as she should have done, and +left her drunken husband and moping boy years ago, she might have been +well off in the world by this time. But she chose like an idiot to live +with him and endure his abuses till he died, and since she has tied +herself to that foolish boy. O, I have no patience with such stupid +women! They are a disgrace to the true female race. Go and tell her to go +home and never enter my doors a-begging again." + +Dilly did not wait to receive this unfeeling message, but pulled her thin +blanket around her, and stole out in the chill night air, and ran toward +home as swiftly as possible. She stumbled over something on the +threshold. It was a bundle of firewood. How came it there? She could not +tell, but seized it in her arms, ran hastily in, and approached Willie's +bed-side. He was still sleeping tranquilly, and that night a comfortable +fire, lighted by unknown generosity, blazed on the lowly hearth. + + + + + CHAPTER V. + + "There is a jarring discord in my ear, + It setteth all my soul ashake with fear, + Good sir, canst drive it off?"---- + + OLD PLAY. + + +All Wimbledon was aroused one cold November morning by a direful +conglomeration of sounds;--strange, discordant shrieks, ominous groans, +a clanking, as of iron chains and fetters, a slow, heavy, elephantine +tread gradually growing on the ear, and a deep, continuous rumbling as of +earthquakes in the bowels of the earth. Mrs. Salsify Mumbles, nervous and +delicate as she was, clung fast to the neck of her liege lord when he +attempted to throw open the sash of his window, to discover the import of +this unusual disturbance of the nocturnal stillness of Wimbledon. Good +Deacon Allen, who was lying on his deaf ear, became restless, and visions +of the final retribution and doom of the wicked harassed his slumbers. +Suddenly he awoke, and dismal groans and unearthly rumblings struck his +terrified ear. "Sally! Sally!" said he, leaping from bed and giving his +sleeping spouse a vigorous shake, "why sleepest thou? arise and don thy +drab camlet and high-crowned cap, and prepare to meet thy Lord; for +behold he cometh!" + +"Samuel," said the good wife but half awake, "you are prating in your +sleep. Return to your pillow and be quiet till day-break." + +"You speak like a foolish virgin, Sally," returned the excited deacon. +"Do you not hear the roaring of the resurrection thunder and the wailings +of the wicked?" + +"I do hear something," said Mrs. Allen, now poking her night-capped head +from beneath the blankets, and listening a moment attentively. "'Tis a +sound of heavy carts drawn by oxen over frozen ground. Ay, I guess it is +the new family, that bought out neighbor Williams, moving their goods. +Just look out the window,--our yards join,--and see if there is not a +stir there." The deacon obeyed. + +"O, yes," said he, "I can distinguish several loaded teams and dusky +figures moving to and fro." + +"I thought 'twas the new-comers," returned the wife, who possessed more +ready wit and shrewdness than her amiable consort, and, withal, could +hear vastly better. "You had better come to bed again, Samuel;--'tis an +hour to daylight." + +"I cannot get to sleep again, I have been so disturbed," said the +husband, fidgetting round in the dark room to find his clothes. + +"O, pshaw!--put your deaf ear up and you'll soon fall off," answered the +wife, drawing the covering over her head. Deacon Allen, who had a very +high opinion of his wife's good sense, concluded to follow her advice, +and the happy couple were soon enjoying as pleasant a morning snooze, as +though neither the resurrection nor the "new family" had disturbed their +slumbers. + +Jenny Andrews and Amy Seaton, who slept in the room above, never heard a +sound, nor did Charlie in his cosey chamber beyond, and great was the +astonishment of the young people, on opening their casements, to behold +the long line of heavy-loaded teams drawn up in the yard of the splendid +mansion which stood next above Dea. Allen's, the former residence of Esq. +Williams. Teamsters in blue frocks were unfastening the smoking oxen from +the ponderous carts, and as the girls hurried below to impart the +intelligence of the arrival of the new family to Mrs. Allen, they heard +the voice of Mrs. Salsify Mumbles, and entering the sitting-room found +that lady laying aside her bonnet and shawl. Mary Madeline was standing +by the window gazing into the adjoining yard. Jenny and Amy had not seen +their former boarding mistress since they left her house at the close of +the summer term, several months before. But she was so elate about the +arrival of the new family that all memory of their former ill-usage +seemed to have escaped her, and she grasped the hands of both and shook +them cordially. "I am glad to see you," she exclaimed; "why have you not +called on us this fall? Mary Madeline has often said I wish Jenny and Amy +would come in, it would seem so much like old times. Here, my dear," said +she, seizing hold of the young lady's shawl and pulling her from the +window, "don't be so taken up with the new family that you can't speak to +your old friends." Mary Madeline now turned and spoke to her former +schoolmates. Then, drawing a chair close to the window, she resumed her +gaze, with her gloves and handkerchief lying unheeded on the floor and +her gay shawl dragging behind her. "O, mother! mother!" she exclaimed at +length, "there comes the family." + +Mrs. Salsify, who was engaged in telling Mrs. Allen of Mr. Salsify's +prosperity, and how he was "rising in his profession," and how he +meditated adding another story to his house and putting a piazza round it +next spring, dropped all, even her snuff-box, and rushed to the window as +a large covered wagon, drawn by a span of elegant black horses, drove +rapidly into the adjoining yard. First alighted a tall man in a black +overcoat,--the master no doubt, the gazers decided,--then a tall man in a +gray overcoat, then a tall man in a brown overcoat. And the man in the +black overcoat and the man in the gray overcoat moved away, the former up +the steps of the mansion and around the terraces, trying the fastenings +of the Venetian blinds, and examining the cornices and pillars of the +porticos; the latter turned in the direction of the stables and +outhouses, while the man in the brown overcoat assisted three ladies to +alight, all grown-up women, one short and fat, the other two tall and +thin. The gazers were a little puzzled by the appearance of the new +family. As far as they could discover there was no great difference in +the respective ages of the six individuals who had alighted from the +wagon, and Mrs. Salsify Mumbles declared it as her opinion that the +family consisted of three brothers who had married three sisters for +their wives. The short, fat woman, who had a rubicund visage and +turned-up nose, and wore a broad-plaided cashmere dress, drew forth a +bunch of keys from a wicker basket that hung on her arm, and with a +pompous tread ascended the marble steps, unlocked the broad, +mahogany-panelled door, turned the massive silver knob, and, swinging it +wide, strode in, the tall ladies in blue cloaks following close behind. +Soon sashes began to be raised, blinds flew open, and the tall ladies +were seen standing on high chairs hanging curtains of rich damask and +exquisitely wrought muslin, before the deep bay windows. The three tall +men threw off their overcoats, and, with the assistance of the +blue-frocked teamsters, commenced the business of unlading the carts. + +"All the furniture is bagged," said Mrs. Salsify, impatiently; "one +cannot get a glimpse to know whether 'tis walnut, or rosewood, or +mahogany. They mean to make us think 'tis pretty nice, whether 'tis or +not; but we shall find out some time, for they can't always be so shy. +Well, Mary Madeline," she added, turning to her daughter, "we may as well +go home, I guess;--there's nothing to be seen here but chairs and sofas +sewed up in canvas. I thought I would run over a few minutes, Mrs. Allen, +as I knew your windows looked right into the yard of the new comers, and +we could get a good view. Of course, we wanted to know what sort of folks +we were going to have for neighbors. I hope they'll be different from the +Williams'." + +"Why?" asked Mrs. Allen, looking up from the brown patch she was engaged +in sewing on the elbow of the deacon's black satinet coat. "I only hope +they will prove as good neighbors and I will be perfectly satisfied." + +"O, I don't know but what the Williams' were good enough, but they were +too exclusive, too aristocratic for me. Mrs. W. never thought Mary +Madeline fit for her Ellen to associate with." + +"How do you know she thought so?" asked Mrs. Allen; "for my part, I lived +Mrs. Williams' nearest neighbor for ten years or more, and always +considered her a very kind-hearted, unassuming woman, wholly untainted +with the pride and haughtiness which too often disfigure the characters +of those who possess large store of this world's goods and move in the +upper circles." + +"Well, you were more acquainted with Mrs. Williams than I was, of course; +but she was not the kind of woman to suit my taste. There's Mrs. Pimble +and Mrs. Lawson now, both rich and splendid, keep their carriages and +servants, but they are not above speaking to common people." + +"I am not personally acquainted with those ladies," answered Mrs. Allen. + +"They are reformers," said Mrs. Mumbles, in a reverential tone; "you +should hear their awful speeches. Daniel Webster could never equal them, +folks tell me." + +"I have understood that they belonged to the fanatical class of female +lecturers that have arisen in our country within the last few years." + +"O, they hold conventions everywhere, and such terrible gesticulations as +they pronounce against the tyranny and oppression of the female sex by +the monster man!" said Mrs. Salsify. "I declare I wish they would have +one of their indignation meetings here, for I think the men are getting +the upper hand among us." + +"Doubtless you would join their ranks should they do so," observed Mrs. +Allen, with a quiet smile, as she arose, gave the deacon's coat a shake, +and hung it on a peg behind the door. + +"Well, I don't know but I should," returned Mrs. S.; "but come, Maddie, +how we are wasting time! I declare, two carts are already unloaded, and +there goes the seminary bell. 'Tis nine o'clock." Jenny, Amy and Charlie, +ran down stairs all equipped for school, as Mrs. Mumbles and her daughter +stepped into the hall, and all went forth together. Mrs. M. repeated her +invitation for the young ladies and Charlie to visit her, and the girls +laughingly promised to do so at their first leisure. Mary Madeline went +to Edson's store on an errand, and her mother proceeded directly home. +Great was her anger to behold the back kitchen door swinging wide. She +shut it behind her with a slam, muttering some impatient exclamation +about Mr. Salsify's stupid carelessness. As she stood by the stove +warming her chilled fingers, a noise from the pantry startled her ears, +and, opening the door, she beheld the great, shaggy watch-dog, that +belonged to the store of Edson & Co., lying on his haunches with a nice +fat pullet between his paws, which he was devouring with evident relish +and gusto. He turned his head towards her, uttered a low growl, and went +on with his breakfast again. Mrs. Salsify looked up to a peg on which she +had hung six nicely-dressed chickens the night before. Alas! the last one +was between the bloody devourer's paws. She glanced toward a pot she had +left full of cream, under the shelves. It was empty; and toward her +rolling-board, where she had left a pan of rich pie-crust, with which she +was intending to cover her thanksgiving pies. All had disappeared. She +trembled with rage. + +"Get out, you thievish rascal!" she exclaimed, bringing her foot +violently to the floor. + +The dog sprang toward her, and, seizing the skirt of her gay-striped, +bombazine dress with his glistening ivories, rent it from the waist, flew +through the parlor window, and rushed through streets, by-lanes and +alleys, rending the flaring fabric, and dragging it through mud-holes +till it looked like some fiery-colored flag borne away by the enemy in +disgrace. + +Mrs. Salsify rushed down into her husband's shop in awful plight, her +hair standing on end, and her great, green eyes almost starting from +their sockets. Mr. Salsify looked with amazement on his lady, as did also +the half-score of customers that stood around his counters. Her +saffron-colored skirt was rent in divers places, revealing the black one +she wore beneath, and the gay-striped waist she still wore was hung round +with ragged fragments of the vanished skirt. + +"Lord, love us, what is the matter?" exclaimed Mr. Salsify, rushing +toward his wife. + +"Edson's dog has eat up six chickens, a cream-pot, a rolling-board, +pie-crust, and all!" exclaimed Mrs. Mumbles, with a frantic air, as she +fell into her husband's outstretched arms, wholly unmindful of the +laughter her appearance and words had excited among her good man's +customers. + +"Edson's dog,--how could he get into the house?" demanded Mr. Mumbles. + +"I saw him out with Dick Giblet, this morning, when he was leaving +packages," said little Joe Bowles, with a mischievous leer in his black +eyes. + +The husband and wife exchanged a glance. The whole truth flashed upon +them,--'twas a trick of Dick's. Mr. Salsify ordered his customers to +leave the shop, and locking the door, he led his terrified, trembling +wife up stairs, where they found Mary Madeline lying on the floor in a +fainting fit, with the fragments of her mother's skirt clenched tightly +in her cold hands. + + + + + CHAPTER VI. + + "Her face was fairer than face of earth; + What was the thing to liken it to? + A lily just dipped in the summer dew? + Parian marble--snow's first fall? + Her brow was fairer than each,--than all. + And so delicate was each vein's soft blue, + 'Twas not like blood that wandered through. + Rarely upon that cheek was shed, + By health or by youth, one tinge of red, + And never closest look could descry, + In shine or shade, the hue of her eye, + But, as it were made of light, it changed + With every sunbeam that over it ranged." + + +The midnight stars were over all the heaven, O, wildly, wildly bright! +Orion, like a flaming monarch, led up "the host of palpitating stars" to +their proud zenith, while, far in the boreal regions, danced strange, +atmospheric lights, with flitting, fantastic motions and ever-changing +forms and colors. A young girl stood in the deep recess of a large +window, with the rich, blue-wrought damask curtains wrapped closely about +her slight, fragile form, gazing intently on the splendors of the +midnight heaven. Long she stood there, and no sound broke the stillness, +save now and then a half-audible sigh. At length she said, "I cannot +endure this solitude and the depression which is stealing over me. Would +that I had a mother to love and bless me! Father is often so strange and +silent, and Rufus cannot sympathize with my feelings. I must call Sylva +to bear me company, for one of my nervous attacks is upon me, and I +cannot sleep." Softly opening a side-door, she said, in a voice scarcely +above a whisper, "Sylva, are you awake?" + +"Yes," was the answer; "what is your wish, Miss Edith?" + +"That you would come and sit with me a while." + +"What time is it!" + +"I know not; but, by the stars, it should be little after midnight." + +"Return to your room, and I will soon be there with a light," answered +the one called Sylva. + +The young girl did as requested, and sank down in a large arm-chair which +nearly concealed her in its soft cushions. Presently the small side-door +opened, and Sylva entered, bearing an astral lamp and a few light pieces +of kindling wood. + +"O, I don't mind a fire!" said Miss Edith. + +"Well, I do," answered the woman; "you would catch your death, up here +half the night with no fire." + +"'Tis a cold place we are come to, isn't it Sylva?" said the young lady, +springing from her chair and wrapping an elegant cashmere dressing-gown, +lined with azure satin, round her tall, delicate figure, and then again +sinking down among the soft velvet cushions of her spacious fauteuil. + +"Yes, Miss Edith, it is, indeed," answered Sylva, as she lighted a bright +fire in the polished grate. "How your father expects to rear so fragile a +bud in this bleak region I do not know." + +"I have never seen him in such spirits as since we came here," returned +Edith, toying with the silken tassels of her rich robe. "You know he was +always so silent and reserved in our former home, Sylva. But sometimes I +fancy there is something unnatural in his manner. One moment he will +laugh wildly, and the next a dark frown will have gathered on his brow. +Twice he has caught me in his arms and said, 'Edith! Edith, you have a +part to play, and I rely on you to do it!' Then he would look on me so +sternly, I would burst into tears, and strive to free myself from his +embrace. What did he mean by such words, Sylva?" + +"Why, that you are coming on to the stage of action, and he desires you +to be educated and accomplished in a manner to adorn the high circles in +which you will move." + +"O, more than that, Sylva!" said Edith doubtfully; "he need not have +looked so stern, were that all; but still he is a kind, indulgent father +for the most part. I should not complain;" and the young girl relapsed +into thoughtful silence. The pale fire-light glowed on her delicate +features. One tiny white hand rested on the cushioned arm of the chair, +and the large, melancholy blue eyes were fixed on the glowing blaze +within the shining ebon grate. The profile was strictly Grecian in +outline, and the soft, silken hair fell in a shower of golden ripples +over her small, sloping shoulders. Her lips were vermilion red, and +disclosed two rows of tiny pearls whenever they parted with dimpling +smiles. + +"Have you become acquainted with any of the village people, Sylva?" asked +the fair girl, rousing at length from her reverie. + +"No, save this young Mrs. Edson, who called yesterday, I have seen no +one," returned the woman, "unless I mention that sunken-eyed washerwoman, +Dilly Danforth, as she is called." + +"O, I saw her on the steps one day! What a forlorn-looking creature she +is! I think she must be very poor. Still, it seems to me there should be +no poverty in this rich, happy-appearing village. I fancy it will be a +love of a place in summer, Sylva, when all the maples and lindens are in +leaf, and the numerous gardens in flower. O, when father took me out in +the new sleighing phaeton last week, I saw a most magnificent mansion, +grander than ours, even. The grounds seemed beautifully laid out, and +over the arching gateway I read the words 'Summer Home' sculptured in the +marble. It is closed at present, but when the occupants return in the +spring, I hope I shall get to know them, for I would dearly love to visit +at so delightful a place. Father said I should become acquainted with the +family. He knows their names, and I think said he had met the gentleman +once." Edith grew quite smiling and happy as she prattled on, forming +plans and diversions for the coming summer. Sylva listened to her +innocent conversation in respectful silence, and, after a while, as the +fire burned low, and the cocks began to crow from their neighboring +perches, the sweet girl ceased to speak. She had wearied herself and +fallen asleep. + +The sun was shining brightly through the blue damask curtains when she +awoke, and Sylva was bending over her, parting away the rich masses of +auburn curls which had fallen over her face as she leaned her head over +the arm of the chair. "Your father and Rufus are calling for you," said +the attendant pleasantly. + +"Why, how long I have slept!" said Edith, opening her blue eyes with a +wondering expression. "What o'clock is it, Sylva?" + +"It is half-past nine," answered the woman. + +"I have been dreaming the strangest dream about that beautiful mansion I +was telling you I saw in my ride the other day--that 'Summer Home,' as it +is so sweetly styled. I thought I saw a lovely young girl there, younger +than myself, but far more womanly in aspect, and she said she was my +cousin, and kissed me, and gave me rare flowers and delicious fruit. Did +you say father had called for me? Well, I'll dress and go down in the +parlor. What are you doing there, Sylva?" + +"Getting your muff and tippet," answered she. + +"Is father going to take me out?" asked Edith with animation. + +"Rufus is going to take you to church," said Sylva. "He said you +expressed a wish to go last Sabbath, but it was too cold. To-day is more +pleasant, and he is ready to attend you." + +"He is kind," said Edith. "Am I not a naughty girl to murmur when I have +a brother so good, and a father who loves me so dearly?" + +"You do not murmur, do you, Miss Edith?" + +"Sometimes I wish I had a mother, or that she had lived long enough to +leave her form and features impressed on my memory." + +A tear fell as the fair girl spoke thus, but she brushed it quickly away, +and commenced arraying herself for church. + +"I shall be delighted to behold the interior of that antiquated looking +building," remarked she, as Sylva placed the dainty hat over the +clustering curls; "and, besides, I can see all the village people, and +form some opinion of those who are henceforth to constitute our +associates and friends." + +"And all the people will see you, too," said Sylva, smiling. + +"O, I don't mind that!" answered Edith; "they would all see me, sooner or +later, as I'm to go to school, in the spring, at the white seminary on +the hill." + +Thus speaking, the beautiful girl descended to the drawing-room. A tall, +elegantly-proportioned man, with a magnificent head of raven black hair, +which hung in one dense mass of luxuriant curls all round his broad, +marble-like brow, and quite over his manly shoulders, was leaning in a +careless, graceful attitude against a splendid mahogany-cased piano, that +stood in the centre of the apartment, and moving his white, taper fingers +over the pearl-tipped keys, waking now rich bursts of song, and, anon, +dwelling long on deep, solemn notes, that pierced the soul with +melancholy. He did not move when the door opened, and Edith crossed the +room and stood beside him ere he noticed her presence. + +"Where is brother Rufus?" she asked, drawing on her tiny, lemon-colored +gloves. + +The gentleman turned and gazed down upon the fair speaker. The clear +complexion and soft blue eyes of the daughter were exact counterparts of +the father's; so were the rich red lips and pearly teeth. Their only +point of difference was in the color of the hair. "What do you want of +Rufus?" asked he, in a tone almost stern, after he had gazed on her +several moments in silence. She turned her speaking eyes upon his face, +and answered, "Sylva said he would take me to church." + +"To church!" said her father, now relaxing his features into a smile, +"what an odd fancy! And are you arrayed in this fine garb to attend +service in an old, dilapidated country church?" + +"Do you think me very finely-dressed?" said Edith, archly, as she for a +moment surveyed herself in the large mirror which hung from ceiling to +floor between the eastern windows. She wore a crimson velvet dress and +mantle, a muff and tippet of white ermine, and a chapeau of light blue +satin, with a long, drooping white plume. Her hair was gathered into +luxuriant masses of curls each side of her sweet face, and confined by +sprays of pearls and turquoises. + +Rufus now entered. He was very unlike his sister in personal appearance. +His hair was the color of his father's, but far less abundant, and +straight as an Indian's. Eyes and complexion were both dark, and his +countenance indicative of rather low intelligence, and weak intellectual +powers. The father looked on him as though he was not quite satisfied +with the son who was, probably, to perpetuate his name. + +"Are you ready, Edith?" asked the youth. + +"Yes," she returned. He approached to give her his arm, and, as they were +passing out, Edith caught her father looking grimly on them, and said +quickly, "Do you mind our going to church, papa? We will stay at home if +you wish." + +"No, go along!" said he. "I'll not thwart you in so small a matter, and +hope I may never have occasion to in a greater!" Edith looked up in his +face as he uttered these last words. There was a dark shade flitting over +it. It haunted her all the while she was walking to church; but so many +things occupied her attention, after entering, it passed from her mind. + + + + + CHAPTER VII. + + "I fain would know why woman is outraged, + And trampled in the very dust by man, + Who vaunts himself the lord of all the earth, + And e'en the mighty realms of sea and air." + + +Winter was passing away, and Wimbledon was making but slow progress +toward the better knowledge of the new family that had come among them. +The silver plate on the hall door announced the master's name as Col. J. +Corydon Malcome, a sounding appellation enough; and he was often seen +walking up and down the streets in his rich, fur-lined overcoat and laced +velvet cap, placed with a courtly air over his cloud of ebon curls. He +was known to be a widower, and the woful extravagancies into which Mary +Madeline Mumbles cajoled her doting mother, were enough to make one +shudder in relating. Wimbledon was ransacked for the gayest taffetas, the +jauntiest bonnets, and broadest Dutch lace, till, at length, poor Mr. +Salsify went to his wife with a doleful countenance, and told her he +could never "rise in his profession" as long as she upheld Madeline in +such whimsical extravagance. Mrs. Salsify looked lofty, and tossed her +carroty head; but her husband had waxed bold in his distress, and could +not be intimidated by ireful brows, or pursed-up lips. So he proceeded to +free his mind on this wise: "As for Mary Madeline's ever catching that +haughty, black-headed Col. Malcome, I know better; she can't do it, and I +would much rather have her marry Theophilus Shaw, who is a steady, modest +shoemaker. He makes good wages, and can maintain a wife comfortably, and +would treat her well; which is more than I would trust that +murderous-looking colonel to do." + +"Well, you will have your own way, I suppose," said Mrs. S., putting on +an injured expression. "I see it is about as Mrs. Pimble and the +sisterhood tell me. Men are all a set of tyrants, and the women are their +slaves." + +"Come, come, wife!" said Mr. Salsify, impatiently; "pray, don't get any +of those foolish notions in your head. Depend upon it, nothing could so +effectually put a stop to my 'rising in my profession.' The piazza and +second story could never be built, if you neglected your home affairs, +and went cantering about the country, like those evil-spirited women, +turning everything topsy-turvy, and mocking at all law and order; but I +know my wife has a mind too delicate and feminine to commit such bold, +masculine actions." + +Mr. Mumbles had chosen the right weapon with which to combat his wife's +inclinations toward the Woman's Rights mania. A love of flattery was her +weak point. It is with half her sex. We too often say, by way of +expressing our disapproval of a certain man, "O, he is a gross +flatterer!" thus very frequently condemning the quality we most admire in +him;--or, if not the one we most admire, at least the one which affords +us most pleasure and gratification when in his society. But to our tale: + +On a certain blustering January day, a sleigh, containing two ladies and +a gentleman, drove to the door of Col. Malcome's elegant mansion, and +were ushered into the spacious drawing-room by the blooming-visaged +housekeeper. Col. Malcome arose from the luxurious sofa on which he had +been reclining among a profusion of costly furs, and received his +visitors with an air of courtly magnificence, which might have had the +effect to intimidate a modest, retiring female; but not king Solomon in +all his glory could intimidate or abash Mrs. Judith Justitia Pimble, or +Mrs. Rebecca Potentia Lawson. As for poor, insignificant Peter Pimble, he +looked quite aghast with terror and astonishment at his own temerity in +penetrating to a presence so imposing and sublime, and cuddled away in +the most obscure corner he could find, while his majestic wife assumed a +velvet-cushioned arm-chair, which stood beside a marble table. + +"Perhaps you do not know our names?" said Mrs. Pimble, bending a sharp +glance on Col. Malcome from beneath her shaggy brows. + +"I certainly have not that pleasure, madam," answered the colonel, with a +graceful bow. + +"I do not like that style of address," said Mrs. Lawson, arising from the +ottoman on which she had been sitting, with her broad, white palms +extended to the warmth of the glowing grate, and throwing her stately +form upon a crimson sofa; "it is a fawning, affected, puppyish manner, +which men assume when speaking to women, as if they were not capable of +understanding and appreciating a plain, common-sense mode of address." + +"Ah, yes!" said Mrs. Pimble, "man has so long reigned a tyrant of +absolute sway, that centuries will pass, I fear, before he is dethroned, +and woman elevated to her proper stand among the nations of the earth." + +Here she tossed her bonnet on the table, smoothed her bushy hair, and, +drawing a red bandanna from her pocket, gave her long nose a vigorous +rub, and settled herself in her soft chair again. Col. Malcome sat bolt +upright among the furs which were piled up around him, and stared at his +visitors. Yes, refined and polite though he was, he forgot his +good-breeding in surprise at the coarse, singular manners of his +involuntary guests. The figure in the extreme corner of the apartment at +length attracted his notice, and placing a chair in proximity to the +fire, he said, "Will you not be seated, sir?" + +The muffled shape moved, but the brawny lady in the rocking-chair spoke, +and it was still again. + +"O, Pimble can stand, Mr. Malcome," she said, "that's his name, and mine +is Mrs. Judith Justitia Pimble, author of tracts for the amelioration of +enslaved and down-trodden woman; and this is Mrs. Rebecca Potentia +Lawson, my sister and co-operater in the work of reform." + +Col. Malcome bowed; but, recollecting the rebuff one brief remark of his +had received, remained silent. + +"The object of our visit," said Mrs. Lawson, "is to see and confer with +the ladies of your household." + +"Begging your pardon," said the colonel, "my family contains but one +lady." + +"Ah, the one we met at the door, then?" remarked Mrs. Pimble. + +"No, madam; that was my housekeeper," returned the colonel. + +"Well, what do you call _her_?" asked Mrs. Lawson. + +"My housekeeper, madam, as I have just informed you." + +"She has no other name, I suppose?" said Mrs. Pimble, in a loud, ironical +tone; "she is to you a housekeeper, as a horse is a horse, or a cow a +cow;--not a woman"---- + +"O, yes! a woman, certainly," interrupted the colonel. + +"A woman, but not a lady?" continued Mrs. Pimble. + +The gentleman bowed as if he felt himself understood. "Well, sir," said +Mrs. Lawson, peering on him through her green glasses, "will you please +to inform us of the difference between a woman and a lady?" + +Col. Malcome, who loved the satirical, had a mind to apply it here, but +his politeness restrained him, and he merely remarked, "In a general +sense, none: in a particular, very great." + +"That is, in _your_ opinion," said Mrs. Pimble. "Now let me tell you +there is no difference, whatever. The wide world over, every woman is a +lady--(the colonel hemmed,)--every woman is a lady," repeated Mrs. P., +"and every lady is a woman." + +"That is, in _your_ opinion?" remarked Col. Malcome. + +"In every sensible person's opinion." + +"Well, sister Justitia," said Mrs. Lawson, drawing forth a massive silver +watch, by a steel fob-chain; "we are wasting time. There's but an hour to +the lecture, and we have several miles to ride. Let us state the object +of our visit in a form suited to this man's comprehension." + +The colonel felt rather small, on hearing this depreciation of his +intellectual powers, but said nothing. + +"Well, make the statement, sister Potentia," said Mrs. Pimble, folding +her brawny arms over her capacious chest, and giving a loud, masculine +ahem. + +"Mr. Malcome, we would like to see the female portion of your household," +said Mrs. Lawson, in a slow, measured tone, with an emphasis on every +word. + +As the colonel, indignant at the coarse vulgarity of the intruders, was +about to reply in the negative--the door opened, and Edith entered, +accompanied by Sylva, who led a small, white Spanish poodle by a silver +cord. The little animal capered gracefully about, cutting all sorts of +cunning antics, much to the amusement of the young girl, till at length +discovering the muffled shape of Pimble behind the door, he ran up to +him, smelt at his clothes, and commenced a furious barking. + +"You had better go out doors, Pimble," said his wife; "you are so +contemptible a thing even insignificant curs yelp at your heels." + +Mrs. Lawson laughed loudly at this witty speech, and the poor man was +about disappearing outside the door, when Col. Malcome prevented his exit +by bidding him be seated, and ordering Sylva to drive Fido from the room. +Quiet being restored, and Mr. Pimble having ventured to drop tremblingly +on the extreme edge of the chair offered for his comfort and convenience, +Col. Malcome said, "You wished to see the female portion of my +household:--here are two of them; my daughter and her attendant." + +"Her attendant!" remarked Mrs. Lawson, "I do not know as I exactly +understand the signification of that term, as applied by you in the +present instance." + +"Her waiting-woman, then," answered the colonel, "if that is a plainer +term." + +"Ay, yes; her waiting-woman," resumed Mrs. L. "Well, your daughter looks +rather puny and sickly. She needs exercise in the open air, I should +say,--narrow-chested,--comes from a consumptive family on the mother's +side?" + +"Madam," said Col. Malcome, with a sudden anger in his tone and manner, +"I don't know as it is any business of yours, from what family my +daughter comes." + +"O, no particular business," continued Mrs. Lawson, with undisturbed +equanimity; "I only judged her to come of a consumptive race by her face +and form. Public speaking would be an excellent remedy for her weakly +appearance. That enlarges the lungs, and creates confidence and reliance +on one's own powers. Miss Malcome, would you not like to attend some of +our lectures and reform clubs?" + +"I don't know," answered Edith, tremblingly. "I think I would if father +is willing;" and she turned her sweet blue eyes up to his face, as if to +read there her permission or refusal. + +"A slave to parental authority, I see," remarked Mrs. Pimble; "but this +lady, grown to years of maturity; she, surely, should have a mind of her +own. Don't you think woman is made a galley-slave by the tyrant man?" she +demanded, turning her discourse on Sylva, who looked confused, as if she +did not quite understand the speech addressed to her. At length, she +asked timidly, "What woman do you refer to, madam?" "To all women upon +the face of the earth!" returned Mrs. Pimble, vehemently. "Are they not +loaded with chains and fetters, and crushed down in filthy mire and dirt +by self-inflated, tyrannizing man?" + +"O, no!" answered Sylva, innocently; "no man ever put a chain on me, or +on any woman of my acquaintance, or ever pushed one down in the dirt." + +"Poor fool!" exclaimed Mrs. Pimble, with great indignation; "you are +grovelling in the mire of ignorance, and man's foot is on your neck to +hold you there." + +The figure that trembled on the edge of the chair was now heard calling +faintly, "Mrs. Pimble--Mrs. Pimble." + +"Pimble speaks, sister Justitia," said Mrs. Lawson. + +"What do you want?" asked the lady, turning sharply round. + +"'Tis four o'clock, ma'am," gasped he. + +"Four o'clock! didn't I tell you I wished to be at the lecture-room at +that hour?" + +"I didn't like to interrupt you," he answered feebly. + +"What a fool of a man!" exclaimed the enraged wife. "Bring the sleigh to +the door, instanter;" and Pimble rushed out, the ladies following close +on his heels, vociferating at the top of their voices, without even a +parting salutation to the family they had been visiting. + + + + + CHAPTER VIII. + + "It is a hermit. + Well, methinks I've read + In romance tales of such strange beings oft; + But surely ne'er did think these eyes should see + The living, breathing, walking counterpart. + Canst tell me where he dwells? + Far in the woods, + In a lone hut, apart from all his kind." + + OLD PLAY. + + +The pale moonbeams peeped through the rents and crevices of Dilly +Danforth's wretched abode, as the poor woman sat on the hearth with +Willie's head lying in her lap, while he read by the flickering +fire-light from the pages of a well-worn Bible. The little fellow had +never fully recovered from that long, painful illness that had nearly +cost him his life, and from which it is very possible he would never +have arisen but for those little bundles of firewood that were so +providentially laid on poor Dilly's threshold, by some charitable, though +unknown, hand. They still continued to be placed there, and it was well +they were so, for Mrs. Danforth's health had failed so much she was not +able to perform half her former amount of labor; and had it not been for +these small armfuls of fuel, which very much resembled those Willie used +to collect, the washerwoman and her boy must have perished during the +long, cold winter season. Yes, perished in the very midst of Wimbledon; +within a stone's throw of many a well-filled woodyard, and under the nose +of a Mrs. Pimble's philanthropic efforts for the amelioration of her +species. Dilly's neglect on the part of the many arose, not so much from +inhumanity and covetousness, as from a wrong bias, which a few words had +created in the people's minds. A report had passed through the village, +several months before, purporting to come from a reliable source, which +represented Mrs. Danforth as not so poor as she appeared; that she +assumed her poverty-stricken garb and appearance to excite sympathy, and +thus swindle, in a small way, from the purses of her wealthy neighbors. +There is nothing of which people have a greater horror than of being +humbugged, if they know it; so, for the most part, the Wimbledonians +turned a deaf ear and cold shoulder on the washerwoman's sorrowful +supplications for charity. Little Edith Malcome pitied the pale, sad face +that appeared at the kitchen door every Monday morning, and always asked +her father's permission to give her a basket of victuals to carry home, +which were always received with many grateful expressions by the poor +woman. + +Edith sat by the drawing-room window, one bleak, stormy winter morning, +watching the snow as it fell silently to the earth, when a man of +singular appearance, walking slowly along the opposite side of the +street, attracted her notice. + +"O, father!" exclaimed she quickly, "come here; the oddest-looking man is +going past." + +Col. Malcome rose from his seat by the fire and approached the window. +"What a disgusting appearance he presents!" said he, gazing on the +slowly-receding figure. "It angers me to see a man degrade himself by +such uncouth apparel." + +"O, not disgusting! is he, father?" said Edith, "only odd and droll; and +his face looked so pale and mild, I thought it really pretty. If he only +wouldn't wear that short-waisted, long-tailed coat, with those funny +little capes on the shoulders, and leave off that great tall-crowned hat +with its broad, slouching brim, and have a little cane instead of that +long pole he carries in his hand, he would be quite a pretty man,--don't +you think so, father?" + +"Well, really I don't know how he might look were he thus transformed," +answered Col. Malcome. "I only expressed my opinion of his present +appearance." + +"Don't you know who he is?" asked Edith. + +"No," said her father, returning to his seat. + +"Well, I wish you would try and learn his name," pursued the fair girl. + +"What for?" asked Col. M., resuming the perusal of the volume he had left +to obey her summons to the window. + +"Because I would like to know it," returned she. "I fancy he is some +relation of that pale Dilly Danforth's, for he has just such mournful +eyes." + +"I do not wish to see them then," said her father, with some impatience +of manner, "for I don't like the expression of that woman's eyes." + +"They are very sad," said Edith, "but sorrow has made them so. I think +they were once very beautiful. But won't you learn this strange man's +name? Perhaps he is very poor, and we could alleviate his wants by kind +charities." + +"No," answered Col. M. in a tone which dismissed the subject; "I cannot +run about the country to hunt up old stragglers for you to bestow alms +upon." + +Edith looked on her father's stern brow, and, feeling it was useless to +urge her plea any longer, stole away to her own apartment, where she +found Sylva engaged in feeding her canaries and furnishing them with +fresh water. The little bright creatures were singing sweetly, but Edith +did not heed their songs. She stood apart by a window, and gazed out on +the falling snowflakes. At length she saw Rufus enter the yard, and soon +heard him ascending the stairs. "Where have you been, brother?" she +asked, as he came in, his face reddened by exposure to the cold, biting +atmosphere. + +"Down on the river, skating with some of the village boys," answered he, +drawing a chair close to the glowing fire; "and O, such a fine time as we +had! I shall be glad when we go to school, Edith; it will be so much more +lively and pleasant." + +"I shall be glad when the snow is gone, so I can run out doors, and sow +my flower-beds," returned Edith, thoughtfully. Then she sat gazing in the +fire a long time, as was always her wont when thinking deeply on any +subject. Sylva had finished her care of the birds, and brought forth Fido +from his little cot-bed in her room. He sprang into Edith's lap, then +into Rufus', kissing their cheeks and evincing his joy at beholding them +in various pleasing, expressive ways. But Edith pushed him away and told +Sylva to put him to bed again. So the brisk little fellow was carried +off, looking very sorry, and wailing piteously, as if he pleaded +permission to remain by the warm fire. + +Rufus was younger than his sister, and of an intelligence and refinement +so far below hers, that she seldom evinced much pleasure or enjoyment in +his society, but she looked towards him now with an eager expression of +interest, as he said, + +"O, Edith, I saw the funniest man this morning!" + +"Where?" she asked quickly. + +"Down by the side of the river among a clump of brushwood, gathering +little bundles of sticks. Charlie Seaton and I spoke to him, but he did +not answer us." + +"Did he wear a long overcoat with small capes on the shoulders, and a +slouching-brimmed hat?" inquired Edith earnestly. + +"Yes," said Rufus. "Have you seen him, then?" + +"Passing along in the street," returned she. "Did Charlie know his name?" + +"No; but he said it was a man who lived alone in a small hut, far off in +the forest, made of the boughs and branches of cedar trees, curiously +twisted together; and he is thence styled the _Hermit of the Cedars_." + +"A hermit!" exclaimed Edith. "I have read of such beings in old books, +but I never supposed they really existed, or at least never expected I +should see one with my own eyes. I shall like this place better than +ever, now; it will be so romantic to have a hermit in our vicinity. What +do you suppose he was going to do with his bundles of sticks, Rufus?" + +"Use them for firewood, probably," said he. + +"But I should have thought he might have obtained that in the forest +where he lives, and not been obliged to travel all the way down here, +this stormy day, to pick up wood from among the snow, and then carry it +two or three miles in his arms," said Edith, in a ruminating tone. + +"O, hermits are strange beings, sis!" answered Rufus, whistling a vacant +tune as he stood before the window gazing forth on the dismal storm which +debarred him from his accustomed diversion of skating on the frozen +surface of the river. + +While his children were occupied with the preceding conversation, Col. +Malcome had donned his fur-lined overcoat and stepped across the yard to +Deacon Allen's cottage. The good people were quite embarrassed to behold +so smart a visitor in their unostentatious little parlor, but the +colonel, by his gentlemanly grace, soon placed them at their ease. After +a few moments' conversation on general topics, he asked, casually enough, +who was the owner of the fine mansion he had noticed in his rambles about +town, with the appellation "Summer Home" sculptured on its marble +gateway? + +"O, that is Major Tom Howard's!" answered Deacon Allen. "His family have +made it their abode for six or eight months every season since they owned +it; and I understand, after their next return, it is to become their +permanent residence." + +"'Tis a delightful location," remarked Colonel M.; "a very large mansion. +Has Mr. Howard a family corresponding with its dimensions?" + +"O, no, only a wife and one child--a beautiful girl." + +"How old is his daughter?" inquired the colonel. + +"Well, about fourteen I should say; but seems much older from her matured +growth and manners." + +"Has Mr. Howard no sister living with him?" asked the visitor, +carelessly. + +"No," answered the deacon. + +"And has he not lost one?" + +"Not since he came among us; though his wife, I have understood, always +dresses in black. She is a confirmed invalid and seldom seen." + +"Then the family do not mingle much in society?" said the colonel. + +The deacon shook his head. + +"Somewhat aristocratic, probably," remarked the visitor. + +"I should judge so," said the deacon. "They don't send Florence to +school, but keep three tutors for her at home. She is very accomplished, +but rather wilful and proud, they say." + +"The effect of over-indulgence, perhaps," said the colonel, rising. + +"Will you not honor us with another call?" asked Mrs. Allen. + +"With pleasure," answered he, bowing a graceful good-morning to his +delighted entertainers. + + + + + CHAPTER IX. + + "A vestal priestess, proudly pure + But of a meek and quiet spirit; + With soul all dauntless to endure + And mood so calm that naught can stir it, + Save when a thought most deeply thrilling + Her eyes with gentlest tears is filling, + Which seem with her true words to start + From the deep fountain of her heart." + + +The fine parlors of Mr. Leroy Edson's tasteful mansion were brilliantly +illuminated. Warm fires glowed in the shining marble grates. Dim argand +lamps bathed in soft light the rich furniture, carved cornices, and rare +statuary which decorated the mantels. The élite of Wimbledon were +assembling, and young Mrs. Edson moved lightly to and fro, receiving her +numerous guests with graceful self-possession, and welcoming them to her +home and heart with warm, earnest cordiality. They were nearly all +strangers to her, as she had been but a few months installed mistress of +Mr. Edson's splendid mansion; but she felt they were the people among +whom she was henceforth to live and find her associates and friends. She +had made one call, only, since her arrival in Wimbledon, and that on Col. +Malcome's family, who were later comers than herself. + +Louise Edson was graceful, brilliant, beautiful. O, what a wealth of +thought and intellect was hers; what a broad, generous nature; what +lightning-like perceptions, quick, far-seeing judgment, sparkling humor +and sarcastic wit! She floated in a sea of exuberant life and beauty, +which was fed continually from the exhaustless fountains of her own +thought-wealthy soul. Her calm, clear eyes mirrored the bright fancies +that flitted through her brain. The chestnut hair, brushed away from the +youthful brow, revealed the tiny blue veins on the white expanding +temples; while the high, straight nose and curved nostrils, with the +sweet little mouth and tapering chin that smiled below, made up a face +whose regular features were its least claim to beauty. It was the soul +within which shone over these features and lighted them at times with +supernatural loveliness. And was this brilliant being understood and +appreciated by the man who had won her for his bride? Faugh!--we blush at +our own stupidity in asking the question. Are such lofty souls ever +appreciated by even one of the swarming masses that people the earth with +their corporeal bodies? Let those answer who can. + +But Louise, soaring as was her nature, was yet cursed with that weakness +which too often possesses souls like hers, swaying e'en a more tyrant +sceptre than in meaner breasts, as though in envious hate of those +sky-aspiring pinions, and a demon wish to make them lick the dust. She +was an orphan, with no relative save a maiden aunt, with whom she dwelt. +She felt alone in the wide world, and she wanted--O, pity her, reader, if +you can!--she wanted somebody to lean on, somebody to look up to. Could +she not lean on her own strong intellect, and look up to the stars?--or +could she not breathe forth her rich-laden soul in lofty song and +romance, and lean upon the pillars of a world-wide fame? No, O, no! With +all her strength of soul and intellect, she had weak woman's heart. She +must love and be loved; and when the wealthy Mr. Leroy Edson knelt, an +enamored knight, at the shrine of her youth and beauty, she gave him her +hand. He thought he had done a most generous deed in thus raising a poor, +lone orphan girl from comparative obscurity to a position among the +highest circles of society. Her superior education and gem-freighted soul +were all the fortune she brought him; a fortune greater than the +treasures of Ind., but of whose princely value he had not the power to +form the most distant estimate. To behold her tall, graceful figure +flitting through his elegant mansion, performing some light household +duty, receiving her guests or chatting and singing gayly through the long +evenings, was, to him, life's whole of happiness. And was Louise +altogether content with the man of her choice? No, or she had not +gathered Wimbledon about her to make merry the midnight hour. People do +not give fêtes to display their happiness. They give them too often to +relieve a tedious monotony, to silence a gnawing discontent, and forget +for the moment in hilarious excitement some uneasy foreboding of evil to +come, or disquieting conviction that all, even now, is not as it should +be. + +Louise had not been many weeks Mrs. Edson, before she discovered the man +she had taken for "better or worse" till death should separate them, was +no helpmeet for her. They had not a thought or sympathy in common. He +hired servants to execute her commands; bought her fine clothes, and fine +books too, when he found these latter most delighted her; but he never +wished to hear her read from them, and invariably yawned if she spoke of +literary subjects. He was good-natured and fond of display, with a fair +estimate of his own importance and standing in society. He regarded +himself as one of the pillars of Wimbledon's wealth and +prosperity;--remove him, and the whole structure would tremble and +perhaps go down with a crash to rise no more. It took but a brief time +for Louise to read her husband's soul through and through; and with her +sharp, critical nature, that could not understand and would not overlook +faults and follies to which her bosom was a stranger, she decided she had +_married a fool_. What was to be done? The act was voluntary on her +part. True, a longer acquaintance between the parties might have led to +a different result, but it was too late to think of that now. And this +was the end of all her heart-longings for some one to love and +reverence, to lean on and look up to! O, how intense was her agony! All +her fine feelings wasted, her soul's wealth poured idly forth, and her +rich life in its blooming years given to one who could not understand +one of her lofty dreams or soaring aspirations. A falcon with sun-daring +eyes tied to a grovelling buzzard! Was't not a hard fate, reader? Pity +her, all ye who can,--pity her a great deal; mourn over her cruel wreck +of happiness; and if in future years the warm, impassioned nature, +goaded by its own unuttered pangs, driven wild by its rayless, hopeless +desolation, is guilty of some irregularities, some acts which virtue and +propriety can hardly sanction, O, remember her early sufferings, and be +merciful! + +Mr. Edson's party passed off pleasantly. All seemed delighted with their +entertainment. The lord of the mansion was in great good-humor, and his +beautiful wife the star of the evening. In a simple robe of dark blue +cashmere, which fastened low over her white, sloping shoulders, and +fitted closely her slender waist, while the ample folds swept the rich +tapestry carpets, she moved among her guests like the embodiment of a +graceful thought. Her luxuriant brown hair was gathered in bands at the +back of her head; a massive chain and cross of gold ornamented her +swan-like neck, and bands of the same material clasped her round, white +arms. Small wonder that Mr. Edson should feel proud of his wife. The +whole evening she was the centre of a delighted group. All flocked around +to hear her brilliant conversation and gaze on her animated, expressive +features. Col. Malcome and the gentle Edith engaged a large share of her +attention and regard. The young girl was insensibly attracted by the +affectionate interest evinced in her manner, and the sweet voice and +beaming smile with which she addressed her. Col. Malcome expressed his +admiration of the exquisite taste displayed in the furnishing of her +parlors. + +"I cannot tell you, Mrs. Edson," said he, "what I most admire in your +elegant drawing-rooms. They are one harmonious whole; but if you were +removed, I think I would very soon discover what was wanting to render +them complete." + +"Now," said Louise, "let me tell you at the commencement of our +acquaintance, which I hope for my humble sake may continue to be +cultivated, that I detest flattery of all things;" and she turned a +smiling glance on him, as these piquant words fell from her pretty, red +lips, rendered more than usually charming by the slight sarcastic curl +she gave them. + +"So do I," returned he; "but truth is not flattery." + +"In the language of the poet," said she, laughing, "I will not seek to +cope with you in compliment. Do you know I feel a lively interest in your +beautiful daughter?" + +"I am gratified to know it," said he, glancing on the bright creature at +his side with an expressive glance. "Edith is a timid little thing; she +would improve under your accomplished tuition. Not that I have the +presumption to ask for her your care and instructions beyond what she +might receive by a neighborly interchange of visits." + +"O, say she may spend a portion of every week with me, when spring opens +and the earth is divested of its garb of snow!" said Louise, in a tone of +affectionate eagerness. "You cannot tell how her innocent gayety would +lighten many of my weary hours." + +Col. Malcome started as he heard these words, and turned a searching +glance upon her. A slight blush suffused her cheek for a moment, but she +soon regained her self-possession. It was one of her faults to give too +free, unrestrained expression to her thoughts. They came welling up to +her lips, and escaped ere she was aware. + +For several moments he continued to gaze on her, and there was something +in his countenance that instantly revealed to her quick eye that he had +not only believed in the weariness she had so thoughtlessly expressed, +but had also fathomed its cause. She felt displeased and irritated at her +own want of caution and what she silently termed his presumption. + +"Why do you look on me so strangely?" she asked at length. + +"I beg your pardon, madam," said he, suddenly averting his gaze. + +"Which I shall not give," returned she, with a slight, dignified movement +of her queenly head, "unless you tell me what you think of me." + +"_All_ I think of you, Mrs. Edson," said he, turning his face again +toward hers, "perhaps would not please you to know." + +"Yes, all," said Louise, "I will know all." + +"Well, this is not the time or place for the disclosure," answered he. + +She looked at him sharply as he pronounced these words. He smiled and +added, "I should be monopolizing the time which belongs to your company." + +"Ay, yes!" said she, "your words recall the duty I owe to my +condescending guests;" and, bowing, she glided away and joined a company +that surrounded the piano. + +"You play, of course, Mrs. Edson," said a portly man with a benevolent +countenance. + +"Occasionally, though I have rather a dull ear," she answered, assuming +the music-stool. Several light songs were performed with fine taste and +skill, and received the warmest encomiums of her listeners. Another and +another was called for, till at length she arose and said, "There are +doubtless others here who play far better than myself. I have led the +way, let them follow." + +Col. Malcome arose from a sofa near by, on which he had thrown himself to +listen to the fair musician, and assumed the seat she had vacated. A few +prolonged notes, and then one of the most beautiful and intricate +compositions of Beethoven, poured its sonorous strains on the ears of the +assembly. The performer at length seemed to forget all around him, and at +the end of the second chorus joined his own deep, rich tones with the +instrument. All were delighted; but Louise, with her quick sensibilities, +was thrilled to the centre of her soul. And she felt piqued and angry +too; not that he had excelled her, for she was above such small envy, +but----she could not tell why. + +The party dispersed, and she found herself again in the solitude of her +own apartment. That swelling chorus rolled through her midnight dreams, +and echoed in her ears for many a day, as she superintended her domestic +affairs, or sat down to the perusal of some treasured volume. + + + + + CHAPTER X. + + "I tell thee, husband, 'tis a goodly thing, + To get a daughter married off your hands, + And know she's found an easy-tempered mate; + For many men there be in this rude world. + Who do most shockingly abuse their wives; + But of their number is not this mild youth + Who takes our daughter for his wedded bride." + + +Young Mrs. Edson's party was a three days' wonder. Mrs. Salsify Mumbles, +inasmuch as she was excluded from being one of the guests, availed +herself of the next choicest privilege, and learned, as far as she was +able, the dresses and conversation of those in attendance; and how Mrs. +E. comported herself, and what she cooked for supper. She was shocked to +learn the young wife wore a low-necked dress, and set her down at once as +a low, vulgar woman, in whose company she should consider it a disgrace +to be seen. Mrs. Pimble said another milk-sop had come among them to fawn +and giggle in the face of the oppressor, man. + +The Edson fête seemed to pave the way for others, and the winter season +passed gayly and pleasantly among the wealthier classes of Wimbledon. +Col. Malcome, his daughter, and Rufus, were present at all the social +gatherings; and, in fact, the colonel's was getting to be a familiar and +welcome face at almost every door in the village. He even called on Mrs. +Salsify Mumbles, one day, and addressed several civil speeches to the +interesting Mary Madeline, who blushed crimson beneath the glance of his +_unresistible_ eyes, as she termed them, and trembled like an aspen, in +her red silk gown. We do not know that we have ever spoken of the +personal charms of this blooming young lady, and we will now attempt a +brief daguerreotype for the reader's enlightenment and edification. + +Her hair was of that peculiarly brilliant color noticed in that +delightful esculent vegetable, the carrot, when boiled and prepared for +table. She wore it twisted in a hard, horny knob at the top of her head, +which strained her blue-green eyes, and gave them the expression of those +of a choked grimalkin. Her nose turned divinely upwards; her blubber lips +turned downwards with a grievous, watery expression. Her cheeks were red; +so was her nose; so were her eyes at times, when the horny knob took a +harder twist than usual. She had small, hairy ears, ornamented with +enormous jewels. Her neck was short, and three stubborn warts, of the +size of peas, stuck to its left side. Her waist might have been admired +in the fifteenth century; but it was some nine inches too short by as +many too broad, to elicit the admiration of the gallants of the present +age, who rave, and go distracted about gossamer divinities scarcely six +inches in circumference. She was about four feet four in stature, and her +foot would have crushed Cinderella, and used her slipper for a thumb-cot. +Such was Mary Madeline Mumbles in her eighteenth year, and never was +child more like parent, than was this young lady like her doting, +affectionate mamma. + +We have been at considerable trouble to sketch Miss Mumbles at full +length, that the reader may be able to form a correct idea of her +appearance when she steps forth in full glory of silken bridal attire, on +the arm of Mr. Theophilus Shaw, the promising young shoe-cobbler, upon +whom Mr. Salsify had long since set his heart, as the proper man to +become his future son-in-law. And Miss Mary, who lost her passion for +Dick Giblet, after he shut the watch-dog in the kitchen-pantry,--a trick +which had nearly cost her the loss of a beloved mother,--and finding she +could not captivate the handsome Colonel Malcome with checkered aprons +and broad lace, began, like a dutiful child, to receive the advances of +the mild Theophilus more graciously, and had, after much maidenly +confusion, consented to become his wife, when, as we have seen, the +uncompromising colonel called, and distracted her with fear lest she had +been too precipitate in accepting Theophilus, when a higher prize might +be on the point of falling into her arms. But her apprehensions were +banished after a while, as the colonel did not appear a second time, and +the marriage was finally consummated; and Mary Madeline Mumbles became in +due form Mrs. Theophilus Shaw. Jenny Andrews and Amy Seaton officiated as +bridesmaids, and a large party were invited to make merry on the +occasion. + +The bride's apparel was magnificent; so was the bridegroom's. We would +attempt to describe it in detail, but dare not, knowing well we should +fail to do it justice. Mrs. Salsify had the wicks of her parlor lamps +full half an inch in length, and never seemed to notice how swiftly the +camphene was disappearing, so elate was she with the prospect of marrying +her beautiful daughter. + +The happy couple were to make a short bridal excursion, and then return +and dwell under the bride's parental roof for the present; Mrs. Salsify +having vacated her bed-room, which the young people were going to use for +kitchen, parlor, and shoemaker's shop. And a little pasteboard sign with +the words, "Theophilus Shaw, Boot & Shoe Maker," scrawled on it with +lampblack, in an awkward, school-boy hand, was suspended by a string from +the bed-room window. + +"I am glad to have Mary Madeline settled in life," said Mrs. Mumbles, +after the arrangements were all complete; "and the matter off my mind." + +"So am I," answered her husband; "and I am glad she has made so good a +match, too. Mr. Shaw will make a much better husband than Dick Giblet, or +that black-headed Col. Malcome." + +"O, a better one than that scapegrace of a Dick, of course!" said Mrs. +Salsify, quickly; "but as to a better one than the colonel, I don't know +about that. The advantages of his position are very great. Maddie would +have been the tip-top of Wimbledon if she had married him." + +"So she will be now, in time," returned Mr. S., confidently, "for I am +'rising rapidly in my profession.' Next summer I shall build the piazza +and second story, and in ten years I'd like to see the man that can hold +his head above Mr. Salsify Mumbles." + +At these hopeful words, the wife fondly embraced her husband, and the +loving couple fell to forming plans and projects for their brilliant +future. + + + + + CHAPTER XI. + + And yet this wild woods' man was happy once,-- + Bright fame did offer him her richest dower, + But disappointment blasted all his hopes, + And crushed him 'neath her desolating power. + + +Cold and bleak roared the fierce wintry blasts through the broad, dense +forest that stretched away to the north of Wimbledon. The stars sparkled +with unwonted brilliancy over the clear blue firmament, as a quick step +crackled along the narrow, icy path, and a dark form was seen hurrying +toward a faint light that gleamed dimly through a dense clump of cedars. +Then there was a sound as of bars withdrawn, and a bright, blazing hearth +was revealed for a moment as the dark form entered, when all was hushed +and silent again, save the dismal roar of the night wind through the +surrounding pines. + +"You are late to-night, uncle," said a tall, dark-haired youth, as he +undid the fastenings of the wanderer's long overcoat, and removed his +woollen mittens and wide-brimmed hat. + +"What time do you conceive it to be?" asked the man, depositing his long +staff in a corner, and approaching the glowing fire. + +"Past midnight, I would suppose," answered the boy, piling up a quantity +of books that were scattered over a small table, and with which he had +been occupying himself through the long evening hours. + +"O, not so late as that!" returned the man, drawing a rude chair before +the fire and extending his small, thin hands to the grateful blaze. "The +village clock in the old church tower at Wimbledon was on the stroke of +ten when I laid my bundle of sticks in their accustomed place, and set my +face homewards. I must have travelled at a laggard pace, if it is already +midnight. Are you lonesome when I'm away, Edgar?" inquired he, turning +his deep, melancholy eyes on the fair, open countenance of the youth. + +"Sometimes I am," returned he; "I have been so to-night. A strange power +seemed to possess my thoughts, to lead them through most hideous scenes, +and dark, awful glooms and shadows enveloped my soul in mazes of doubt +and fear." + +"What a nervous boy you are!" said the man, "come and sit beside me, and +I'll tell you of a project I've been revolving in my mind these several +days." Edgar did as requested, and after a brief silence the hermit +commenced: + +"These six months, my lad, you have dwelt in this little hut in the +forest, holding intercourse with no human being save myself. It is not +right your boyhood and youth should pass in this manner. I have been +selfish in keeping you all to myself, to cheer my solitude. 'Twas your +parents' dying wish that you should receive all the advantages of +education and travel. Your life has been, for the most part, spent in the +toil of study, and I knew you needed an interval of relaxation and +retirement to reïnvigorate your mental and physical energies. So I +brought you to share the seclusion of my hermitage for a while. Grateful +as has been your presence to me, I should wrong you, and forfeit the +promise given your parents on their deathbeds, if I encouraged or +permitted this retirement for a longer period than is necessary for your +restoration to health and vigor. You know I am your guardian, Edgar. The +fortune left for you by your father was entrusted to my care till you +should attain a suitable age to have it transferred to your own hands, +and ample provisions were made for your education and instruction in the +painter's art. Do you see what I am coming at, Edgar?" he added, pausing +in his discourse, and directing his gaze toward the boy, who sat +listening attentively to his uncle's words. + +"No, Uncle Ralph," answered the lad; "I don't know as I do, unless you +are going to send me away from you to some distant school;" and his voice +trembled as he spoke. + +"Would you dislike to leave me, my boy?" said the hermit, a tear dropping +from his melancholy eye. + +"Ah, that would I!" returned Edgar, "for I have none to care for me in +the wide world, save you." + +"Pshaw, pshaw, boy! don't prate in that way, with your bright, curly +locks," said the man, laying his thin hand softly on the youth's light, +clustering hair. "When these locks are gray, and you have toiled and +labored for fame and honors never gained, or that burned and furrowed the +brow that wore them; when you have engaged in the world's weary strife +and sunk by the wayside worn and disheartened by the contest; when +friends have proved false;"--here the hermit's voice grew deeper and more +vehement--"and when those who professed for you the fondest love turn +coldly away to mock and scorn at your deep devotion, then, then, my boy, +you will exclaim in bitterness, 'there are none to care for me!'" + +He paused, and bowed his face on his hands. Edgar longed to comfort him, +but knew not what to say. + +The night wind roared solemnly without, the fire burned low on the rude +hearth, and the little apartment, but illy protected from the searching +blasts, grew chilly. Still the hermit sat silent, his bowed head resting +between his small, attenuated hands. Edgar rose, brought the long +overcoat and spread it over his shoulders, as a protection from the +increasing cold. Then wrapping a blanket around his own light form, he +stole softly to the window, and turned his gaze upward to the +star-lighted heaven. He dearly loved to sit thus through the hushed +midnight hours, and listen to the deep, heavy roaring of the mighty +winds, as they swept through the surrounding forest, while his soul +seemed borne away on their rushing currents, up and upward till her +pinions brushed the starry palaces of angels and beatified spirits; and +on, and on, with new splendors ever bursting on her ravished vision, till +the elysium of light in the high heaven of heavens poured its bewildering +glories upon her, and her weary wings fluttered to rest at last upon the +bosom of the All-Holy. + +Edgar was possessed of a temperament of the most imaginative order, +deeply imbued with lofty, poetic sentiment, and a tendency to reserve and +melancholy. His father had been an artist, and the sunny skies of Italy +cast their bright glory over his tender years, warming to impassioned +ardor the springs and fountains of his youthful bosom. Very few boys of +his age and acquirements could have endured the seclusion in which he had +dwelt for the last six months; but nothing could have been more consonant +with the reserved, romantic disposition of Edgar; and the prospect of +leaving the wild hut in the forest to go forth among the wide world's +jostling crowds, caused him heart-throbbing pangs. + +After a long silence the hermit roused himself. The room was cold and +dark. + +"Edgar?" said he, in a low, broken voice. + +"I am here," answered the youth, rising, and feeling his way through the +darkness to his uncle's side, "Won't you lie down now? The room is so +cold, and there is no wood within to replenish the fire." + +"Yes, my boy, I will lie down," said the hermit, "but not to sleep; the +ghosts of past joys are with me to-night." + +"Drive them away, uncle!" said the lad soothingly. "I am not disposed to +sleep either. Let us lie down and cover us warm, and then you tell me of +your plans and projects for my future, as you had commenced to do a few +hours ago." + +"No, Edgar, not to-night," answered the recluse. "Your young eyes will +wax heavy with these midnight vigils. You must sleep, my boy, and +to-morrow I will communicate my plans concerning you." + +"As you say, uncle," returned Edgar, preparing to lie down. + +Young, and happily ignorant of the cares and sorrows that distract the +bosoms of maturer years, he was soon asleep. + +The hermit moved to the window, and, after gazing forth some time in +silence, murmured, "Wild, wild is the night! Heaven send she does not +suffer. I left two bundles on her lonely sill, though my fingers grew +stiff with cold ere I had gathered them. Thus do I feebly endeavor to +atone for past misconduct. How the wind roars through the pines! O, what +memories of long ago rush o'er my soul! I think of Mary as the time +approaches when she will be near me. Shall I see her face again? God +forbid!" exclaimed he, stamping his foot violently upon the stone floor. +After a while he resumed his low soliloquy. "I fear for Edgar," he said, +"lest the cold world chill his heart and undo his usefulness, as it has +mine. He has my temperament, reserved, sensitive, and with the same +accursed capacity for strong, undying attachment. What a fair prospect of +fame had I! What honors were ready to crown me when that monster came and +blasted them all! Such do I fear will be Edgar's fate. But he must go +forth into the world; such was the wish of his parents. I can keep him +near me a few months longer by sending him to the Wimbledon seminary, ere +he must depart for some distant university or school of art. Then the +great world will have opened before him, and I shall see him no more." +The hermit suddenly ceased. Tears choked his utterance. + +"Uncle!" said Edgar, starting quickly from his slumbers, "will you not +come and lie down?" + +"Yes, my boy," answered the sorrowing man, approaching the rude couch. + +The wintry winds wailed on with piteous, mournful voices; but the +_Hermit of the Cedars_ slept at last, + + "A troubled, dreamy sleep." + + + + + CHAPTER XII. + + "Lawyers and doctors at your service. + We are better off + Without them. + True, you are,--but still + You follow on their heels, and fawn, + And flatter in their faces. If you + Would leave your brawls and fights which + Call for physic, very soon you'd be + Beyond their greedy clutches." + + OLD PLAY. + + +Reader, do you wonder where's the doctor whose saddle-bags may be +supposed to contain the divers specifics for the "ills" which the "flesh" +of Wimbledon is liable to become heir to? He doth exist, and, when +occasion calls, we'll trot him forth. + +And do you say this same Wimbledon has never a lawyer within its +precincts,--and whoever heard of a village of several hundred inhabitants +without at least half-a-dozen of these learned disciples of Blackstone to +settle its wrongs and right its abuses? + +Permit us to inform you, friend, that we consider lawyers dangerous +animals; and the less men and women have to do with them, the better! + +Nevertheless, there is one o' the craft in Wimbledon; and, if you had not +been blind as a bat, you would have discovered, ere this, the sign of +"Peter Paul Pimble, Esq., Attorney-at-Law," hung over the door of a +small, black building in Mudget square. True, Mr. Pimble don't practise +his profession much, for a very good reason; nobody is in want of his +services; and that's the case with two thirds of the lawyers in +Christendom. + +Mrs. Pimble has converted her husband's office into a committee-room, and +receptacle for hoards of pamphlets and papers, containing the proceedings +of divers conventions held for the advancement of the cause of "Woman's +Rights, and promulgation of Universal Freedom and Philanthropy." + +Mrs. Pimble, the ardent reformist, is at present detained from her labors +by the illness of her eldest son, Garrison. She has sent for the young +female physician, Dr. Sarah Simcoe; but the word is, "pressing business +detains that medical functionary at home,"--so, in direct violation of +her established principles, she has been compelled to send for old Dr. +Potipher, who considers himself, par excellence, the Esculapius of +Wimbledon. + +But Peggy Nonce comes blowing back from her hasty errand, and says the +doctor is down to Mr. Moses Simcoe's. Mrs. Pimble wonders what should +take a vile male practitioner to the house of an accomplished +lady-physician. Peggy looks wise, as much as to say she could explain the +mystery if she chose. But no one asks her to speak, so she goes into the +kitchen, where Mr. Pimble sits in his dressing-gown and sheepskin +slippers, shivering over an expiring fire. He lifts his head, as the +bustling housekeeper begins to rattle the covers of the stove for the +purpose of putting in some more wood, and asks feebly if "Dr. Potipher +has arrived." + +"No," answers Peggy. "He is down to Mr. Simcoe's." + +"Who is sick there?" inquires Mr. Pimble. + +"His wife." + +"Why, she is a doctor herself! Can't she cure her own ailments?" says Mr. +Pimble. + +"Not always, I reckon," is Peggy's reply, while she is evidently vastly +amused by something she does not choose to communicate at present. + +Beside the bed of her sick boy stood Mrs. Pimble. She laid her hand on +his forehead. It burned with fever, and his pulse was quick and hard. She +was not much skilled in the "art medical," but she resolved to do +_something_ for her child, and forthwith proceeded to the kitchen and +compounded a dish of catnip leaves and ginger. It exhaled a savory +smell, and she felt quite confident it would cool off Garrison's fever. +Placing a large bowl of the liquid by his bed-side, she bade him drink +freely of it through the evening, while she was gone to the Reform Club, +and when she came home she would call at Sister Simcoe's and obtain a +prescription for him. The sick lad promised to do as she requested. His +fever inclined him to drink incessantly, and ere his mother was ten +yards from the house, he had guzzled the whole brimming bowlful. And +still he called for drink, drink; which his insensate father carried to +him in copious quantities as often as he desired it. + +Mrs. Pimble proceeded on her way to the club room. For some reason there +was but a thin attendance. None of the prominent members were present, +and the little company decided to adjourn. Mrs. Pimble hurried round to +Mrs. Simcoe's, to learn the cause of her absence and get the prescription +for Garrison. The lady-doctor had been lecturing for several months in +different towns of the county, and was but recently returned. + +Mrs. Pimble entered without knocking, as was her wont, and walked into +the young doctor's office, where she beheld, not the fair, feminine face +of the rightful proprietor, but the ugly, rhubarb-colored visage of the +village apothecary, Dr. Potipher, ensconced in the high-backed cushioned +chair, fast asleep. + +She turned back and opened the sitting-room door, and there stood Mr. +Simcoe before a bed, holding a tea-tray, containing several vials and +glasses. Mrs. Pimble started on seeing the night-capped head of Mrs. +Simcoe raised feebly from the pillow, and darting forward, exclaimed, +"Mercy, Sister Simcoe! what has befallen you?" + +A smothered wail from beneath the bed-clothes now met her ear, and, +turning down the blankets, she discovered two red-faced, bald-headed +babies, wrapped in swaddling-clothes. She started back aghast. + +"What are those things--what are those things?" she demanded, +hysterically, pointing to the infant strangers. + +"Simcoe's children!" groaned the pale lady-doctor, turning uneasily away +from the little things that lay squirming and making such grimaces, as +only very young babies _can_ make, in the face of Mrs. Pimble. The +alleged father stood there, chuckling over the smartness of his progeny. +Mrs. Pimble darted one withering glance upon him, and walked away +without another word. She roused old Dr. Potipher, and took him home +with her. Well she did so, for Garrison was much worse than when she +left him, and the doctor pronounced it a case of brain fever, which +would require the nicest care and nursing. + +Thus a wet blanket was most audaciously thrown upon the Woman's Rights' +Reform, which was fain to arrest its progress in Wimbledon for a while. +We shall see how long. + + + + + CHAPTER XIII. + + "Thy hands are filled with early flowers, + Thy step is on the wind; + The innocent and keen delight + Of youth is on thy mind; + That glad fresh feeling that bestows + Itself the gladness which it knows, + The pure, the undefined; + And thou art in that happy hour + Of feeling's uncurbed, early power." + + +The spring dawned bright and beautiful over Wimbledon, and when the first +blue-birds sang on the budding boughs, and the grass was springing green +in streets and by-ways, the tenants of "Summer Home" returned; and a +bright young girl, with dark abundant hair hanging in a rich profusion of +shiny ringlets over her white, uncovered shoulders, was seen skipping +lightly through the gardens and grounds, pruning shrubs, transplanting +flowers, and training truant vines over arbors and alcoves. + +It was Florence Howard, resplendent in the light of her girlish beauty, +and buoyant overflow of health and happiness. Often, in her morning +strolls, she noticed a tall, graceful boy, in a blue frock-coat, with a +shining morocco cap placed over a head of light curly hair, passing +along, satchel in hand, to the seminary on the hill, and every night she +saw him disappear within the forest that lay to the northward of her +father's residence. + +She wondered what became of him, for the woods were wide and deep, and it +must be a long way to the other side. There surely could be no habitation +within their precincts, and Florence's curiosity was strongly excited to +fathom the mystery, which in her eyes surrounded the fair-haired youth. + +"Father," said she one evening, as she sat beside him on the western +terrace, "I don't like being confined herewith these stupid tutors. I +wish you would let me go to school at the seminary." + +"Your advantages at home are far superior, my daughter," answered her +father. + +"O, but I should like the air and exercise, and the company of children +of my own age so much," pursued she, poking her little fingers through +her father's silvered locks, and leaning up against his side in a very +coaxing attitude. "I shall become the saddest mope in the world if I am +cooped up here." + +"I apprehend small danger of that," returned her father, laughing, "for +you have appeared to me, since our last return, a wilder romp than ever +before." + +"O, that's only because I'm so glad to get to this delightful place +again, and to know we are to go away no more!" said she. "It will wear +off after a while, and I shall become silent and solemn as a nun. Won't +you let me go to the seminary just one term? I can still take my music +lessons of Mrs. Sayles here at home, and I know my French and Italian +masters would like a respite from their duties." She stood looking +earnestly in her father's face. + +"You smooth the way very well, my little daughter," said he, patting her +rosy cheek; "but I incline to think you had better continue your studies +in the old way." + +Florence looked disappointed, and turned slowly from his side. Her +dejected appearance touched his affectionate heart, and he called her +back. She came bounding toward him, with new hope dancing in her dark +liquid eyes. + +"If you can obtain your mother's consent," said he, "I will not object to +your attending school at the seminary one term, as you seem so much to +desire it." + +"O, thank you, thank you, dear father!" exclaimed the glad girl, putting +her arms round his neck, and giving him a grateful kiss on either cheek, +"and may I commence to-morrow? that is, if mamma consents to my going?" + +"To-morrow?" said he, "had you not better wait, as this term is so far +advanced, and commence with a new one?" + +"O, no!" returned she, "I should rather begin at once." + +"Well, go in, little Miss Rattle, and see what your sage mamma says on +the subject," said her father, smiling at her earnest countenance. + +Away went Florence, with the lightness of a bird up the hall stairs, and, +giving a light tap at a closed door, stood dancing softly on tip-toe, as +she waited a summons to enter. "Who's there?" asked a low, trembling +voice at length. + +"Me, mamma," answered Florence; "may I come in? I've something to ask +you." + +The door was opened by a short, thin woman, of dark complexion, small +peering black eyes, and slick, shining hair of the same hue, which was +arranged with an air of nicety and precision. + +Florence entered and glanced with an expression of alarm toward the drawn +curtains of a mahogany bedstead. "Is mother worse?" she asked in a voice +but a breath above a whisper. + +"She has had one of her bleeding spells," answered the small, dark woman. +"Where is your father?" + +"On the lower terrace; shall I call him?" + +"No, I will go to him," returned the woman, "if you will remain by your +mother a while." + +"O, yes, I shall be delighted to stay!" said Florence, approaching the +couch. + +"You must not talk to her," remarked the woman; "she needs to be very +quiet." + +"I won't speak a word unless she asks me to," answered the young girl, +sitting down by the bed-side, as the dark woman disappeared, closing the +door softly behind her. + +After a few moments' silence the sick woman stirred and parted the +curtains slightly with her wan hand. Florence rose. "Do you want +anything, mother?" she asked. + +"No, my dear, I have been asleep. Where is Hannah?" + +"Gone below. I think to send father for Dr. Potipher." + +"I hope not," said the invalid; "it is not necessary. This is only one of +my common attacks. I shall be as well as usual in a few days." + +"Do you think so, mother?" asked Florence, brightening. "I feared you +were very ill. I had something particular to say, but I was not going to +say it, for fear of hurting you." + +"What is it, dear?" inquired the mother. + +"Something papa and I have been talking about down on the piazza +to-night." + +"Well," said the sick woman, looking affectionately on the earnest +expression and downcast lids of Florence's large hazel eyes. + +"I asked him to let me go to the seminary this term, and he said if you +had no objection I might do so," said the hesitating girl, at length, +with a long-drawn breath, as though she had relieved her bosom of a heavy +burden. + +The pale lady was silent a few moments, as if revolving the matter in her +mind. Then she spoke suddenly. "You said your father had no objection?" + +"Yes," answered Florence. + +"Then, of course, I have none," said the woman, turning over on her +pillow and settling herself as if to sleep again. + +Florence was about to pour forth her gratitude for the favor shown her +request, when the dark-browed woman entered, shook her finger at her, and +bade her go below. Florence's eyes flashed back her answer. + +"I'll go at my mother's request, not otherwise," said she. + +A dark frown gathered on the woman's features, and the invalid said +tremblingly, "I would like to sleep; perhaps you had better go and stay +with your father a while, my dear." + +Florence kissed the pale brow, and then moved toward the door with +noiseless tread. The dark woman cast a glance of angry triumph upon her, +which was returned by one of fearless defiance. + +Since Florence's earliest recollection her mother had been an invalid, +shunning society and subject to long fits of depression, and, upon the +slightest excitement, to severe attacks of palpitation and bleeding from +the chest, which frequently prostrated her on a bed of suffering for +weeks. Hannah Doliver had always been her attendant, though Florence, in +the simplicity of her young heart, often wondered that her parents should +retain her in their service; for she was a bold, impudent, +violent-tempered woman, who set up her will for law in the household, and +seemed to exercise an almost tyrannic sway over the weak invalid, who +appeared to stand in awe of her slightest nod. She showed a marked +dislike for Florence, and delighted in tantalizing her, when she was a +little child, and thwarting her wishes. As the fair girl grew older, she +resolved the arbitrary woman should not govern or intimidate her, and met +all her attempts at petty tyranny with a bold, undaunted spirit, which +seemed to increase the woman's hatred. Florence once asked her father why +he did not send Hannah Doliver away. + +"Your mother could not do without her, my child," said he. + +"I think she could do better without her than with her," returned +Florence, "for she is cross to mamma, and makes her do everything just as +she says." + +"O, no, I guess not," said her father. + +"But she does," persisted Florence, "and I would not have her in the +house." Major Howard patted his little daughter's cheek and said, "When +you are older, Florence, you will understand a great many things that +seem dark and mysterious to you now." + +Florence was not satisfied, but she turned away, and never mentioned the +subject to her father again. + +Early the next morning the glad-hearted girl was astir, getting in +readiness for school. She gathered her books together and placed them in +a satchel of crimson broadcloth, which she had just embroidered, with +bright German wools, in wreaths of spotted daisies and wild columbines. +Then donning a blue muslin frock, dotted over with small silver stars, +and tying on a black silk apron with open velvet pockets, from one of +which peeped a snowy lace-edged handkerchief, she took satchel, gloves +and gypsy hat, and descended to the parlor, ensconcing herself in a nook +of the north window, where she stood gazing over the hill-tops toward the +distant forest with eager eyes to behold the fair-haired boy emerge from +its recesses. + +At length he appeared, and she watched him till he was descending the +hill which sloped past her father's mansion. Then, hastily tying on her +hat and seizing her satchel, she was hurrying through the hall to gain +the street, when she encountered Hannah Doliver. + +"Where are you going?" demanded she in a sharp tone. + +"To school," answered Florence, rushing past her. + +"By whose leave, I wonder?" said the woman, running after her, to drag +her back. But the nimble-footed girl was too swift for her, and she +returned to the house muttering angrily to herself. Meantime, Florence +bounded over the gravelled walks, and was emerging from the gateway just +as the lad, in the morocco cap, was passing by. He arrested his steps on +beholding her, and bowed gracefully. She returned his salute, and said, +blushingly, "I am going to school up to the seminary. May I walk with +you?" + +"Certainly, Miss Howard," answered he; "I shall be grateful for your +company." + +"You know my name," said she, advancing to his side; "I am ignorant of +yours." + +"Edgar Lindenwood," returned he, and the two walked on together. + + + + + CHAPTER XIV. + + ----"She has dark violet eyes, + A voice as soft as moonlight. On her cheek + The blushing blood miraculous doth range + From sea-shell pink to sunset. When she speaks + Her soul is shining through her earnest face + As shines a moon through its up-swathing cloud. + My tongue's a very beggar in her praise, + It cannot gild her gold with all its words." + + ALEXANDER SMITH. + + +There was a neat, little vine-covered cottage standing a few doors +removed from the elegant mansion of Leroy Edson, and in it dwelt Mrs. +Stanhope, a widow lady and her maiden sister, Miss Martha Pinkerton, +a female of uncertain age, as authors say, and possessed of the +peculiarities common to persons of her class. They were not poor, nor +were they rich, but made a good living, as the world goes, by taking in +needlework. Young Mrs. Edson frequently dropped in to pass an hour in +social converse with Mrs. Stanhope, who was a pleasant, agreeable woman. +Miss Martha, too, always wore a smile on her sharp-featured face when +the lovely young wife appeared at the cottage. As they were simple, +unostentatious people, living in a retired and quiet way, she laid aside +all form and ceremony, and was accustomed to run in at any hour, in +whatever garb she chanced to be. + +On a bright May morning, as the ladies had made all things tidy, and were +seating themselves to their daily avocation of the needle, they heard +the garden gate swing, and beheld Mrs. Edson approaching in her little +white sun-bonnet and spotted muslin dressing-gown, open from the waist +downwards, revealing a fine cambric skirt, wrought in several rows of +vines and deep scolloped edges. Mrs. Stanhope met her visitor on the +porch. + +"Good-morning," said she, extending her hand; "I am happy to see +you:--how beautiful and eloquent you are looking!" + +"O, this glorious, sweet-breathed morning, with its birds and flowers, +is enough to brighten the most torpid thing into animation!" exclaimed +Louise, grasping her friend's hand warmly. "You don't know how I love +everything and everybody to-day, Mrs. Stanhope," she continued, in a +tone of earnest enthusiasm, as she entered the little parlor, still +holding the good woman by one hand, while she extended the other to +Miss Pinkerton, who rose from her work to receive her, and drew an +old-fashioned, straight-backed rocking-chair, cushioned and lined with +gay copperplate, up before the window for her comfort. "I must not sit +long," said Louise, assuming the proffered seat, "for I have left my +house quite alone; the servants having gone out on errands for +themselves. I tried one thing and another to divert myself, but the +birds sang so sweetly, the sun was so bright, and everything seemed to +say, up and away. So I donned my sun-bonnet and ran over here as the +nicest, quietest little nook I could fly to; and where I should be as +welcome in my morning-gown as in full dress of ruffles and satins." + +"And even more so, if possible," answered Mrs. Stanhope; "simple people +like us are always a good deal put out and embarrassed by grandeur and +display. It has something awful and unapproachable in our eyes." + +"It has something servile and contemptible in mine," said Louise; "I +always shrink from a woman flaunted out in rustling silks, great, +glaring rings on her fingers, and alarming jewels swinging like +ponderous pendulums from her ears. I think what a poor, little, pinched, +narrow-contracted, poverty-stricken soul is there, that seeks to atone +for the lack within, by rigging her poor body out like a veritable queen +of harlots." + +Mrs. Stanhope and Miss Martha burst into a cordial fit of laughter, as +Louise, with a good deal of spirit and sarcasm, delivered herself of the +preceding speech; and, before their merriment had subsided, a knock was +heard at the inner door, and Col. Malcome stepped in, bowing gracefully, +with a pleasant "Good-morning" to the three ladies. Mrs. Stanhope rose +and offered him a chair. Depositing a large package he held in his arms +on a corner of the sofa, he sat down. + +Mrs. Edson blushed. She thought it was at being caught from home in +dishabille by a gentleman of the colonel's etiquette and high breeding. +After a few casual remarks upon the beauty of the morning, he turned his +discourse to her, and remarked: + +"I am happy to meet you, Mrs. Edson; we are getting to be quite strangers +of late. Edith is lamenting that you do not honor us with more frequent +visits." + +"I have often wished to call on your family, Col. Malcome," returned +Louise, in a calm, clear voice; "but since your daughter commenced +attending school, have desisted, lest I might inconvenience her." + +"Edith does not go to the seminary after two o'clock," said he; "her +evenings are quite unemployed, and she would be highly gratified to +receive a call from you." + +"I shall be pleased to call on her, and also to receive more frequent +visits from her. She has less to confine her at home than I; so her +visits should outnumber mine." + +"Ay, yes; you speak sensibly, Mrs. Edson," returned he; "you have more +calls on your time than Edith. Strange I can never remember you are a +married woman." + +"It would be well for you to remember it," said Louise, with a dignified +curve of her graceful neck, and slight addition of color, which very much +heightened her beauty. + +"Mrs. Edson is so youthful in appearance," remarked Mrs. Stanhope, "I +think she might excuse one for forgetting she is a matron." + +"I'll excuse you, Mrs. Stanhope," said Louise, rising; "I don't want to +be anything to you, but your little girl, and to run in here just when I +have a mind to, and to have you chide me when I do wrong, and love me +always, whether right or wrong. So good-morning," and, curtseying +gracefully, she glided from the room and retraced her steps to her own +mansion. + +There was a silence of several minutes after she left, during which Col. +Malcome recollected his package, and, placing it on the table, politely +inquired if the ladies could oblige him by sewing a quantity of linen, of +which he should be in need in course of a few weeks, as he meditated +going a journey. They would be very willing to do it for him, could they +get it in readiness by the time he would want it; but they had a great +deal of unfinished work on their hands. Miss Pinkerton was confident they +could accomplish the colonel's, however. + +"I am doubtful, Martha," said Mrs. Stanhope; "you know the large bundle +Mrs. Howard's waiting-woman brought in, last night." + +"O, that can easily be put by," returned Martha. + +"But Hannah said the major wanted it in a month at longest." + +"Pshaw! that's a phrase of her own making. It sounds just like Hannah +Doliver's impertinent manner of expressing herself." + +Col. Malcome gave a sudden start as Miss Pinkerton carelessly uttered +these words. + +"What did you say was the name of Mrs. Howard's woman?" he demanded, with +an eagerness that astonished his hearers. + +"Hannah Doliver," repeated Miss Martha; "do you know her?" + +"No," said he, suddenly assuming an appearance of composure; "that is, I +think not; but I have frequently heard the name of Doliver before. How +long has she lived with Major Howard?" + +"A great many years, I believe," answered Martha. "People hereabouts +wonder at their keeping the ill-tempered, arbitrary hussy. They say she +rules the whole house save Miss Florence." + +"Ay; the young lady must have a spirit, then, I should judge, if she +defies such a virago as you describe this woman to be." + +"No more spirit than she should have," returned Miss Pinkerton. "A sweet, +beautiful girl is Florence Howard as ever the sun shone upon." + +"Ay, yes, indeed," interposed Mrs. Stanhope; "she used to call on us last +summer, when her embroidery teacher was away, to get Martha to assist her +in her tambour work; and I declare, I thought her the most lovable +creature I ever saw." + +"I am told these Howards do not mingle much in society," remarked the +colonel carelessly. + +"No," returned Mrs. S., "Mrs. Howard never goes out. She is a confirmed +invalid, and her disease inclines her to quiet and solitude. I don't +believe there's a woman in the village who has seen her in all the +seasons the family have passed at Summer Home." + +"O, yes!" said Miss Martha. "Dilly Danforth, the washerwoman, saw her +once. When she was there a year ago this spring, putting the house to +rights, she cleaned the paint and windows of Mrs. Howard's room, and thus +got a sight at the invalid. She told me she was a pale, thin woman, with +a distressed expression of countenance. Her hair was nearly white, and +she looked much older than her husband." + +Col. Malcome stood before a window with his back toward the ladies, +listening intently to their words. + +"I have understood that Miss Florence is attending school at the seminary +this term," remarked Mrs. Stanhope, at length; "do you know if it is so, +Col. Malcome?" + +"I think I heard Edith and Rufus say something to that effect," answered +he. + +"I hope she will drop in and see us some day," said Miss Pinkerton. "She +and Mrs. Edson are great favorites of mine, and I doubt not your pretty +daughter would become one also, if I should get acquainted with her. We +are but humble people, but should be very happy to receive a call from +Miss Edith." + +"Thank you," said the colonel; "'tis very possible she may some time +visit you, though she is rather timid and inclined to shrink from +strangers. Well, ladies, shall I leave my work?" he added, laying his +white hand on the package as he stepped toward the door. + +"Yes," answered Miss Martha; "I will engage to have it ready in season +for you." + +He bowed and withdrew. Miss Pinkerton peeped through the curtain, as he +walked down the garden path, and thought she had never beheld so handsome +and elegant a specimen of the genus homo. + + + + + CHAPTER XV. + + "O, loveliest time! O, happiest day! + When the heart is unconscious, and knows not its sway; + When the favorite bird, or the earliest flower, + Or the crouching fawn's eyes make the joy of the hour, + And the spirits and steps are as light as the sleep + Which never has wakened to watch or to weep. + She bounds on the soft grass,--half woman, half child, + As gay as her antelope, almost as wild. + The bloom of her cheek is like that on her years. + She has never known pain--she has never known tears; + And thought has no grief, and no fear to impart; + The shadow of Eden is yet on her heart." + + L. E. L. + + +"Father!" said Florence Howard, the second day of her first vacation, +"had I not better study Latin next term?" + +"Latin!" answered he in a tone of surprise, "why should you study that?" + +"O, for discipline to my mind," returned Florence. + +"I think you will find the acquirement of French and Italian sufficient +discipline," said he. + +"O, but they are so easily learned! I want something more +difficult--something I have to study hard on." + +"Why, you would be running to me to get your lessons for you half the +time!" said her father, laughing. + +"No, I wouldn't," answered she, shaking her curly head cunningly. "Edgar +would assist me." + +"Edgar! and who is he?" inquired Major Howard. + +"Why, Edgar Lindenwood! You know him," returned she. + +"No, certainly I don't know anything about him," said her father. + +"Why, you have seen the tall boy with the morocco cap and light curls, +that used to walk to school with me last term!" said Florence, looking +earnestly in his face. + +"O, yes! I have seen him frequently," returned Major H. "What do you say +is his name?" + +"Edgar Lindenwood." + +"And where does he live?" + +"With his uncle." + +"And who is his uncle?" + +"The Hermit of the Cedars." + +"Ha, ha, ha!" laughed Major Howard. "And so, this young hermit is going +to teach you Latin, Miss Florence? Romantic, upon my word!" + +"Edgar is not a hermit!" said Florence, pouting her red lips and assuming +an air of dignity which vastly amused her father. "He is brave, +and bright, and handsome, and, our preceptor says, already a finer +scholar than many a graduate from the university." + +"Well, well; I cannot argue the merits of this favorite of yours, +Florence," said her father; "but I promise to give him a larger share of +my attention henceforth." + +"I wish you would, father," said Florence. "I may bring him home with me +from school some day,--may I not?" + +"No!" returned Major Howard. "I can notice him in the street." + +"But you cannot judge of him so far off," pursued Florence. "He looks +better the nearer you approach him." + +"I shall judge him best at a distance," remarked her father, moving +away. + +Florence did not exactly like the tone of voice in which he uttered +these last words; but she soon forgot all else in the contemplation of +studying Latin, and having Edgar's assistance in learning her lessons. +She had never in her life taken any note of time,--never felt it lag +heavily on her hands; but it appeared to her now that these interminable +days of vacation would never come to an end. She passed one of them with +Edith and Rufus Malcome, and this was by far the most insupportable of +any. "She loved Edith dearly," she said; "but could not endure the +childish prattle and frivolity of Rufus." + +He was six months older than Florence, and Edith had seen seventeen +summers, while Florence was only in her fifteenth; but she was so well +matured in manners and appearance as to seem the senior of the delicate, +retiring Edith. + +Col. Malcome paid her many courteous attentions during her visit, and +expressed an ardent hope that a friendship and intimacy might spring up +between her and his daughter. + +Florence said she should be delighted to form a companionship with +Edith. + +"We are located so near the seminary," said Col. Malcome, as she was +preparing to return home, and Rufus stood waiting to accompany her; +"while your father's mansion is so distant, that it will be very +convenient for you, on rough days, to come and pass the night with +Edith. Indeed, I should be highly gratified if you would make my house a +sort of second home, and come in, familiarly, every day, if you choose." + +Florence thanked him for his kindness, kissed Edith, and descended to +the street in company with Rufus. + +Col. Malcome approached the window and regarded the couple earnestly +till they passed beyond his view, while strange, dark, commingled +expressions passed over his face. Edith crept up to him and said softly, +"What troubles you, father?" + +He looked down sternly on her sweet, upturned face, and said in a tone +of strong command: + +"Edith, I desire you to cultivate the acquaintance of Florence Howard by +every means in your power." + +"I shall be glad to do so, father," answered she, with a look and tone +which deprecated his sternness. + +"'Tis well, then," said he, relaxing his brow and imprinting a kiss on +her soft cheek as he turned away and stepped forth upon the piazza. The +full moon was just rising in the east; the river rippled sweetly in the +distance, and the whippoorwills piped their sharp, shrill notes on the +hushed evening air. Suddenly he heard the garden-gate unclose, and, +turning, beheld Mrs. Edson and her husband approaching. Descending the +marble steps, he met them in the avenue, and, after a cordial +interchange of salutations, ushered them into the gas-lighted +drawing-room, where Edith, in a gossamer-like muslin, reclined on a +velvet ottoman. + +The evening passed pleasantly to all but Mr. Edson, who sat like a +pantomime in a play, staring and grinning at what he could not +understand or digest. Col. Malcome seemed, however, to take a malicious +pleasure in placing his guest in the most awkward positions, and showing +off his own superior grace and polish to the best advantage. If +anything, he rather overdone. But perhaps he thought with Mrs. Salsify +Mumbles in this case, "Better overshoot than fall short." Louise was +graceful and self-possessed as usual; and it must be confessed did not +appear very much disconcerted when Col. M. showed her husband in some +ridiculous light, or mercilessly uncurtained his crude, narrow-minded +opinions and ideas. + +Scorn and contempt for the man she had married were fast mastering all +kinder feelings she once had toward him. + + + + + CHAPTER XVI. + + "I bid you leave the girl, and think no more + About her from henceforth." + + "Ah, I can leave + Her, sire;--but to forget will be, I fear, + A thing beyond my power." + + +It was midsummer, and the Hermit of the Cedars sat under his low piazza, +curiously constructed of the enwreathed boughs and branches of evergreen +trees. He held a volume in his attenuated hand, with the contents of +which, he seemed intently occupied. His appearance was melancholy in the +extreme. A pale, thin face;--deep sunken eyes, and a broad, high brow, +by sorrow seamed with furrows long and wide; for she doth ever dig with +deeper, harsher hand than time. A loose linen garment was wrapped around +his tall, gaunt form, and a white handkerchief tied over his head to +prevent the passing breezes from blowing his thin, straggling gray hair +about his features. + +So intent was he on the contents of his book that he did not notice the +approach of the cheerer of his solitude. Edgar came along the narrow +path with a step quicker and more impatient than was his wont, and there +was an expression on his fine, manly face which had something of +mortification and anger, but more of regret and sorrow. He threw his +satchel on the ground, and sat down at the hermit's feet, who laid aside +his volume, on beholding him in that position, and asked him if he was +fatigued or ill. + +"No," said the youth, "but I shall be glad when I am gone away from here +to the university." + +"Ah!" returned the hermit, "it is as I knew it would be when I placed +you at the seminary. Your desire for fame and honor has returned, and +you long to go forth in the great world and mingle in its +st[illegible]." + +"No," said Edgar, "I would rather live and die within the walls of this +hermitage, than ever go beyond them again; but I'm resolved I will not +do the foolish thing. I'll go forth, and if my life is spared, show +those who call me a foundling, and a wild cub of the woods, that I am +something more than they suppose me to be." + +"Who has dared apply such epithets to you, my boy?" exclaimed the +hermit, his pale cheeks glowing with anger. + +"Do you know Major Howard of 'Summer Home?'" asked Edgar. + +"That do I," answered the hermit; "and did he call you by these names?" + +"Yes," returned Edgar. + +"_He_ talk of foundlings!" said the hermit. "Why did you not slap him in +the face, Edgar?" + +"The words did not come directly from him to me," said the youth, +wondering at his uncle's anger, which far exceeded his own. + +"Ay, through a third person you obtained them? and that was"---- + +"His daughter, Florence Howard." + +"Florence Howard!" repeated his uncle, "and what do you know of her?" + +"I have been to school with her four or five months, and have assisted +her in her Latin studies this summer," returned Edgar. + +"And shall never behold her face again!" said the hermit, in a tone of +angry vehemence, bringing his heavy sandalled foot down upon the wooden +sill with a violence that made Edgar start from his lounging posture on +the turf, and gaze with amazement upon the fierce workings of a face he +had never seen flushed by an angry emotion before. He feared his uncle +had suddenly gone mad, and stood indeterminate what course to pursue, +when the countenance before him changed, the eyes closed, and the hermit +fell heavily on the green sward in front of his door. Edgar, in his +alarm, lifted the prostrate form in his strong, young arms, and bore him +to the low, rough couch, which was their nightly resting-place. Then, +taking a bottle from a [illegible] shelf above the huge, black +fire-place, he poured its contents in a cup, and bathed the temples of +the deathly-looking face till the eyes opened with recognition, and the +lips moved, though inaudibly. + +He watched by the bed-side several hours, and at length the hermit rose +suddenly to his feet, and bade Edgar retire. He obeyed, and closed his +eyes, but not to sleep. Opening them after a while, he beheld his uncle +sitting before the table engaged in writing. Again the lids closed, and +he fell into a light drowse, during which Florence Howard flitted before +him in countless variety of forms. When again he looked around he was +alone. The long summer twilight had deepened into evening, and Edgar +rose and lighted a lamp. On the table he discovered a small, folded +billet, addressed to him. He sank on his knees, opened it, and read. +Various were the expressions that flitted over his features as he did +so. When he had finished he refolded it carefully, and, drawing a bunch +of keys from his pocket, unlocked a small box which sat on the table, +placed the letter within, then relocked it and returned the keys to his +pocket. + +Then he extinguished the lamp and sat down in the window-nook to his +watch of the stars. + +But his thoughts were different from what they once were when he gazed +on their glistening faces. + +His soul-pinions had kissed the earth, and become fouled by contact with +a grosser element; and heavy with a weltering weight of woe, that they +could not soar aloft and hover over the casements of angelic homes, to +rest at last on the glory-bright hills of heaven. + + + + + CHAPTER XVII. + + "I only know their dream was vain, + And that they woke to find it past, + And when by chance they met again, + It was not as they parted last. + His was not faith that lightly dies; + For truth and love as clearly shone + In the blue heaven of his soft eyes + As the dark midnight of her own. + And therefore heaven alone can tell + What are his living visions now, + But hers--the eye can read too well + The language written on her brow." + + PHEBE CAREY. + + +The yearly examination and exhibition of Cedar Hill Seminary was +approaching, and teachers and pupils were busied with preparations in +order to pass the ordeal creditably to themselves and to the +institution. + +Prominent among the list of performers stood the name of Edgar +Lindenwood, often in juxtaposition with that of Florence Howard. Since +the scene in the hermit's hut, Edgar, as commanded by his uncle, had +studiously avoided Florence, and she, for a still longer period, had +evinced a certain distance and reserve toward him. Edgar's knowledge of +her father's dislike might be sufficient cause to part him from her, but +it could by no means justify his growing intercourse with Edith Malcome. + +As the time approached for the exhibition, Florence asked her father's +permission to absent herself entirely and remain at home. Maj. Howard +thought she had better attend, as she had been to school several terms; +but she said she felt too languid to take part in the exercises, and +thus obtained the excuse of her indulgent father. + +Edgar's quick, impassioned nature regarded her absence as a direct +insult to himself, for in all the parts assigned her, she would be +brought on the stage in company with him, and frequently obliged to hold +single converse. If this opinion needed further confirmation it was +added, when she appeared at the Scholars' Levee, held on the evening of +the exhibition, in elegant dress and dashing spirits, with Rufus Malcome +for a partner. + +They passed each other in the dance without a token of recognition. +Edgar attached himself to Edith for the larger part of the evening. +After the first two or three cotillons he did not care to join them; and +Edith, being too delicate to bear the excitement, they roamed through +the hall, conversing together of the events of the exhibition, or +mingling among groups of the village people who had assembled by +invitation to partake in the festive scene. + +"Ha, my little fairy!" whispered Mrs. Edson in the ear of Edith, as she +was sauntering past on the arm of Lindenwood, unmindful of her friend's +proximity; "are you so far skyward you can't see poor Louise? Introduce +me to your princely gallant, an' it please you." + +Edith turned and presented Edgar to Mrs. Edson, who instantly found them +a place in the group around her. + +"This scene brings vividly before me my happy school days," she +remarked, tears welling up to her beautiful eyes, which she dashed +hurriedly away, exclaiming, "but I must not begin to prose about myself +when I was young, lest I drive you all away by my tedious recitals." + +"Mr. Lindenwood," said she, turning to Edgar, "though we have never met +before, your vivid personations on the stage to-day have caused you to +seem more like an old friend than a comparative stranger." + +Edgar expressed his pleasure that his poor performances had met her +approbation, and also that she condescended to recognize him as a +friend. + +"What a graceful creature is Florence Howard!" continued Mrs. Edson, as +the fair girl whirled past her in the dance. "Edith, your brother should +consider himself most fortunate in securing the most brilliant lady in +the room for a partner; no disparagement to your charms, my dear," she +added, leaning over and bestowing a kiss on the soft cheek of the +blushing girl. "You know what I think of you, darling. The spirit of +beauty is everywhere, says the poet. She assumes the largest variety of +types and forms, and, verily, she has given her most dangerous one to +Florence Howard. She is the brilliant dahlia, the pride of the gay +parterre; but my Edith is the modest daisy blooming in some sheltered +nook. The stormy winds shall rend the one from its lofty stalk and +scatter its wealth of purple leaves o'er the miry earth, while dews and +sunbeams kiss the modest plant that blooms in the lowly vale. Is it not +so, Mr. Lindenwood?" she asked, as, pausing, she encountered his gaze +fixed earnestly on her face. + +"I don't know," he said; "that is, I have not considered the subject. +Edith, I think the party are retiring," he added, turning his eyes to +several disjointed groups; "remain with Mrs. Edson a few moments and I +will return to you." + +As he entered the ladies' dressing room, he saw Florence standing alone +by the window, in the very spot where they had often stood in the +interim of recitations, and studied their lessons from the same book. He +thought he would give the world to know she was thinking of those times +now. Approaching softly he stood near her in silence a few moments. + +"O, Florence!" said he, at length, in a low, deep tone, tremulous with +intense feeling and tenderness. Was there not enough of passionate +devotion breathed in that one word to convince her of his eternal, +unchanging affection? + +What poor, weak simpletons are we, to pine and languish for words, where +looks and tones are infinitely more expressive! Some people affirm that +"actions speak louder than words." But we can't say much in favor of +those, because, as far as we know, people in love invariably act like +fools. + +Florence turned at Edgar's adjuration, and he saw, by the moonlight, two +great tear-drops dimming her starry eyes. He was about to extend his +hand when Rufus Malcome rushed into the room, calling her name. Changing +his purpose, he said, in a light conventional tone, "Have you been happy +to night?" + +"O, very!" answered she, with a gay laugh, which echoed in his ear long +after she had taken the arm of Rufus and tripped lightly away. + +When Edgar returned to Edith, he found Col. Malcome in lively +conversation with Mrs. Edson. Florence and Rufus had disappeared, and +Edith signifying her wish to retire, he led her from the hall and +escorted her home. He found Florence in Col. Malcome's parlor sitting on +a sofa with Rufus at her side. + +"Come in, Lindenwood," said he; "here's room for us all." + +"Thank you," returned Edgar. "I have a long walk before me, and must not +tarry." + +"O, stay with us to night," said Rufus. + +"We should be pleased to have you remain, if agreeable," remarked Edith, +timidly. + +"It would be very agreeable," said Edgar, politely, "but my absence +would alarm my uncle." + +"O, he wants to be off to his hermitage!" laughed Rufus, coarsely; "let +him go. You will stay, won't you, Florence?" + +"If Edith invites me," returned she. + +"Well, I do," said Edith quickly. + +"Then the point is settled," remarked Florence. + +"Good-night to you all," said Edgar, moving hastily toward the door. + +Scarce ten minutes had elapsed, after his departure, when Florence rose +and said, "Now I am going." + +"Why, you just promised to remain all night," said Rufus, in a tone of +undisguised disappointment. + +"No," said she; "I made no promise, and I am going." + +"Then I'll go with you," returned Rufus, seizing his hat. + +"No," said Col. Malcome, suddenly entering the apartment. "With Miss +Howard's consent, I'll be her escort home to-night." + +Florence said she should be honored by his company. So bidding +good-night to Edith and Rufus, she took his proffered arm and descended +to the street. + +"How have you enjoyed the ball to-night?" inquired he, as they walked on +together. + +"Very well," answered she, briefly. + +"This young Lindenwood, that burrows with the strange chap they call the +'Hermit of the Cedars;' you are acquainted with him, I believe." + +"He has attended school at the seminary, since I commenced to go," +answered Florence, as calmly as she was able. + +"He has been paying Edith some attentions of late," continued the +colonel, in a careless tone; "do you suppose he really cares for her?" + +"I don't know," answered Florence; and her voice trembled in spite of +her efforts to steady it. + +"Of course you don't know," the colonel went on, still in that cold, +indifferent tone; "I merely asked what you thought?" + +"I never thought anything about it in my life," said Florence, in a +choking voice. + +"That's rather strange," returned he. "I have thought of it several +times lately;--but here we are at your father's gate. Present my +regards, and say I would be happy to receive a call from him whenever he +is so disposed." + +Florence bowed good-evening to her gallant, and hurried to her own +apartment. + +The night was warm. A waning moon lighted the eastern terrace, and, not +feeling disposed to sleep, she stepped through a window that opened to +the floor, and, leaning against a pillar, stood silently gazing over the +gardens and grounds below. + +She had not been standing long thus when she beheld the figure of a man +moving slowly along the gravelled walks, pausing frequently and fixing +an earnest gaze on the windows of the apartment occupied by her mother. +She grew alarmed, and was about descending the stairs to arouse her +father, when she heard the hall door open softly, and saw the figure of +a woman stealing down the garden path. She recognized the dark form +instantly as that of Hannah Doliver. The man met her and the two went +into a green-house. After an hour the woman reappeared, and retraced her +steps to the mansion, but the man she saw no more. Securing her windows, +Florence retired, resolving to impart to her father a history of what +she had seen. + +When, she did so, he only laughed at her and said he supposed it was +some enamored knight come to pay his devoirs to the fair lady of his +love, and counselled her to say no more of the matter, as it would +needlessly irritate Hannah to know her secret was discovered. + + + + + CHAPTER XVIII. + + "The world hath used me well, and now at length + In peace and quietness I sit me down + To feed upon the fruits of my hard toils. + Ambition doth no more distract my breast,-- + I've reached the height my spirit strove to gain; + Here will I rest, and watch life glide away." + + +It is quite time for us to call on Mrs. Salsify Mumbles again. We fear +the good lady, who is rather sensitive on such points, has felt +neglected ere this; but we hope not, and, as her mansion heaves in view, +we are convinced that matters of more importance than visits from our +humble selves, have engaged our old friend's attention. + +The second story has actually gone up, and the piazza spreads its white +palings along the sides of Mr. Salsify's dwelling. The pasteboard sign +of "Mr. Theophilus Shaw, Boot & Shoe Maker," is no longer seen swinging +from the bed-room window, but a new sign stretches its sublime length +over the doors of Mr. Salsify's old grocery, announcing, in staring +black and yellow, to the inhabitants of Wimbledon, that "Mumbles, Shaw & +Co., wholesale dealers in pork, cheese, onions, dried apples, sausages, +and verdigris, continue at the old stand, No. 9 Temple street, where +they will entertain the trading public in a genteel and finished +manner." + +Thus it appears Mr. Salsify's high hopes are at length realized. Most +fortunate man! He has "risen in his profession" to the topmost summit of +his earthly ambition. + +Happy will it be for him if he remains content with his present +elevation, and goes not, like too many restless mortals, clambering to a +higher point, only to fall back, on some adverse day, into the slough of +ill-luck and despondency. + +Mrs. Salsify sits in her parlor making caps for her thumb, at least we +should judge so, from their surprisingly small dimensions; and Mary +Madeline is nowhere to be seen. But Dilly Danforth is in the kitchen +bending over a great wash-tub, pale and sunken-eyed as ever. Now that we +look at this woman attentively, it strikes us she is wonderfully like +that lank-visaged man, who dwells in the lonely forest hut, the "Hermit +of the Cedars," as he is called. But then it may be only the resemblance +which all the sons and daughters of affliction have in common. 'Tis not +likely 'tis more than that. And gazing on Willie, who stands over the +great arches, replenishing the fires, and at intervals poking the white +heaps of linen beneath the fierce bubbling suds with a long wooden +shovel, we fancy for a moment there's something about him like Edgar +Lindenwood. Of course, he is not so large or so well-dressed; +nevertheless, he is greatly improved since we last saw him; and there is +something in the turn of the head, which is certainly finely shaped, +though placed on the shoulders of a beggar boy; and something in the set +of the rusty cloth cap over the bright, sunny curls, that reminds us of +the tall, graceful lad we used to see winding his way over the hills to +the large, white seminary. But then, a great many boys have +pretty-formed heads, and bright, curly hair; and, should we attempt, no +doubt we could find a large number with more points of resemblance than +we have been able to make out between Edgar Lindenwood and Willie +Danforth. We are full of conceits. Sometimes Edith Malcome is like +Florence Howard, and Rufus' glistening, coal-black hair reminds us of +Hannah Doliver, while the handsome colonel has a look we cannot fathom, +and from which we turn with a creeping shudder. + +'Tis quite astonishing what strange fancies possess people at times. + +While we have been indulging in ours, Mrs. Mumbles has put away those +impossible caps, and come into the kitchen to see how matters and things +are progressing, and just as she begins to tell Aunt Dilly, that she +"wants her to get through washing in time to scour down the pantry +shelves and scrub the oil-cloth on the dining-room floor," in runs Miss +Susan Pimble, and says, "Mamma wants Mrs. Danforth to come and do a +little light work for her, to-morrow; for she has got to go to Goslin +Flats to attend a great mass convention, and can't stop to do it +herself. She will pay Aunt Dilly well, if she will oblige her. Garrison +has been sick--Peggy Nonce is away on a visit to her son, who has +recently been married, and mamma's public duties and household affairs +have proved too heavy for her shoulders," etc., etc. + +Susy ran through a long rigmarole, with a volubility worthy the daughter +of a fluent public speaker. + +We hasten away lest our mania for discovering resemblances should detect +one between Mrs. Salsify Mumbles and pert Susy Pimble. + + + + + CHAPTER XIX. + + "Ay, little do those features wear + The shade of sin,--the soil of care; + The hair is parted o'er a brow + Open and white as mountain-snow, + And clusters there in many a ring, + With sun and summer glistening. + Yet something on that brow has wrought + A moment's cast of angry thought." + + +In an arbor of Major Howard's elegant garden, the moonlight shimmering +its rich, clustering vines with silver, and the night-breezes murmuring +in low, musical voices among the dark green leaves, sat a man of +commanding aspect and handsome features. Light auburn hair, closely +trimmed, lay in short, thick masses of wavy curls around his high, pale +brow. His mien and manner indicated the well-bred gentleman. A small, +dark figure crouched beside him. It was Hannah Doliver. + +"We meet again at last," said the man, after a considerable silence. His +voice was low and deep, and the woman trembled as she answered, + +"I marvel how you have discovered me." + +"Few things escape my knowledge which it subserves my interest to know," +returned he. "What in the name of all the fiends possessed you to enter +the service of Tom Howard?" + +"A lone, forsaken female finds shelter where she can," whined the woman. + +"O, don't babble in that hypocritical tone!" said the man. "I did not +leave you so destitute; and I took the child off your hands that no +incumbrance might fetter your footsteps." + +"Fiend!" exclaimed Hannah. "You shall not talk to me thus. What have you +done with my boy?" + +"I have done well by him," answered the man. "He has been reared as a +gentleman. No stain has ever been suspected on his birth." + +"Where is he?" asked she, in a voice trembling with emotion. + +"He is near you. I left him but an hour ago, well and happy." + +"Near me!" said the woman almost wildly. "It cannot be--you lie to me, +Herbert!" + +"By the heavens above, I utter the solemn truth!" returned the man. + +"What name does he bear?" + +The man bowed his tall form and whispered in her ear. She sprang to her +feet, paced hurriedly to and fro down the little alcove, and at length +threw herself on her knees and exclaimed, + +"O, let me see him! Can you be so cruel as to withhold the child from +his mother's right?" + +"It rests with you to decide whether you see him or no," said the man, +wholly unmoved by her distress and emotion. Swear to keep my presence +here a secret, and do my bidding in all things, and you may see your boy +when you choose." + +"I swear!" answered the woman, frantically. + +"Tell me first why you are here serving Tom Howard's wife?" + +"I am not serving his wife." + +"Who then?" + +"His sister." + +"His sister!" exclaimed the man, now evincing strong emotion. "And does +she live?" + +"She lives; and lives to palm herself off on the world as the wife of +her own brother." + +"What iniquity!" said the man. The woman burst into a low laugh. + +"Why do you laugh?" demanded he, fiercely. + +"Because iniquity comes so prettily from your lips," replied she in a +sarcastic tone. + +"Take care, woman!" said he. "Remember you are in my power." + +The little dark figure trembled and was silent. + +"I wonder she would receive you again into her service," remarked the +man at length in an absorbed tone. + +"Fear is a strong motive. I threatened to reveal her deception to the +public." + +"Ay, you have some skill and tact, I find!" said he, rising. "Now +remember, when I wish to see your mistress, you are to gain me an +entrance to her." + +"What do you want to see her for?" asked the woman. "I believe a sight +of you would throw her into fits." + +"It is none of your business why I wish to see her," said he. "But mind, +you do not look on your boy unless you implicitly obey all my commands." +Here he stooped and whispered again in her ear. + +"I hate the girl!" she said, after he had ceased speaking and stood +gazing down on her, twirling his velvet cap carelessly in his hand. + +"But you would like to see your boy so well married," remarked he. + +"'Twould be a sweet revenge," she said in a chuckling tone. He turned +to depart. + +"Herbert!" she called, softly. + +"What do you wish?" said he, pausing. + +The woman hesitated, and at length said, "The girl--her child I mean; is +she----?" + +Again the man whispered in her ear. "None can say," he added aloud, +"that I have not been a kind parent to my children." + +"I'm glad there's some virtue in you," said the woman, turning toward +the quiet mansion that stood in almost palace-like magnificence in the +midst of the beautiful grounds that surrounded it on all sides. The man +lingered behind, and finally left the garden by a path lying in an +opposite direction from the one by which he had entered. He bent his +steps rapidly in the direction of the river. Either the warmth of the +night or his own emotions oppressed him; for, as he gained its banks, he +slackened his pace, drew off his cap, and loosened his collar. With +arms folded across his chest, he moved slowly along, like one intensely +absorbed in some dark and intricate train of thought. Sometimes he +muttered to himself, and made strange gestures, or tossed his head with +a confident air, as though he saw onward to the success of some plan he +concerted. So occupied was he in his own thoughts, that he never saw the +tall, gaunt figure of a man, crouching in the shadow of a small linden +tree, that stood on the bank of the river, nearly opposite Dilly +Danforth's wretched abode, although he passed in so close contact as to +brush against the little bundle of sticks the unknown held in his hand, +while his deep, sunken eyes glared on the passer till they seemed nearly +starting from their sockets. + +"'Tis he!" murmured the gazer, when the abstracted one was beyond the +sound of his voice. "I must see where he goes;" and, stealing +noiselessly to the door of Dilly's abode, he placed the bundle of sticks +on her sill, and slowly followed the receding figure. + + + + + CHAPTER XX. + + "And the clear depths of her dark eye + Were bright with troubled brilliancy, + Yet the lips drooped as with the tear, + Which might oppress, but not appear. + Her curls, with all their sunny glow, + Were braided o'er an aching brow; + But well she knew how many sought + To gaze upon her secret thought;-- + And love is proud--she might not brook + That others on her heart should look." + + +One pleasant autumn evening a social group were assembled in Mr. Leroy +Edson's tasteful parlor. A tall, argand lamp on a marble table, shed its +mild, ethereal light over the rich furniture. A bright fire glowed in +the marble grate, and in the genial atmosphere of her own creating, +young Mrs. Edson moved, a thing of grace and beauty. She wore a robe of +emerald Genoa velvet, with an open bodice, laced over a chemisette of +fine-wrought Mechlin lace. Broad, drooping Pagoda sleeves revealed her +white arms encircled by quaintly-fashioned jet bracelets. Her guests +were not numerous, but select. Col. Malcome and his family were most +prominent among the number. Florence Howard was there, attended by +Rufus, and Edgar Lindenwood in company with Edith. Jenny Andrews, with +no less a personage than our quondam, roguish friend, Dick Giblet, +shop-boy of Mr. Salsify Mumbles' grocery; now Mr. Richard Giblet, of the +firm of Edson, Giblet & Co. A very respectable appearance Dick made, +too, for he was a quick, sprightly young fellow, albeit somewhat +over-fond of a mischievous joke; but this he would outgrow in time +probably. Amy Seaton, sedate and modest as ever, with laughing Charlie +for her beau, and several others, among whom we might mention Miss +Martha Pinkerton, made up the little party. + +Edith looked fragile and sweet as ever in a dress of azure thibet cloth, +her light hair hanging in clusters of wavy curls over her small +shoulders. She leaned gracefully on the arm of Lindenwood, and looked in +his face with a gentle, artless expression of countenance. + +Florence, in her crimson cashmere, and dark, massy ringlets, looked a +shade paler than when we last saw her, but more queenly and brilliant, +if possible. + +There were many points of resemblance between her and Louise Edson. Both +were endowed with superior mental and intellectual powers; both +accomplished and beautiful; but there was at times a gentleness in +Florence's manner, a dreamy light in the far depths of her large, hazel +eyes, that indicated less firmness and strength of character, with +tenderer susceptibilities. Perhaps life's trials would sooner unnerve +her spirit. + +Mr. Edson was not present, nor was it necessary he should be, to enhance +the enjoyment of his gifted wife. He was, in fact, very much the same +sort of an appendage in his elegant mansion that Mrs. Pimble averred her +husband to be in his,--"a mere crank to keep the machine in motion." Not +that Mrs. Edson monopolized her husband's sphere, as did the masculine +Mrs. Pimble. By no means. She appeared to give her lord full sway and +sceptre in his own household, and the good-natured man thought never +husband had so obedient, condescending partner as blessed his bosom. +Consummate actress, to conquer where she seemed to yield, and use her +advantages so skilfully that the vanquished felt himself the victor. +Mrs. Pimble stormed and blustered, but she exercised not half the power +over her household that Louise Edson swayed by a soft word or placid +smile. + +But we forget our party, which waxes merry as the evening progresses, +warmed by the genial influences of social intercourse. Col. Malcome and +Mrs. Edson discussed the merits of different authors; Lindenwood +modestly joined them, and Florence dropped an occasional word. Edith sat +silent. Rufus yawned, and at length commenced a game of forfeits with +Dick Giblet, over which he soon grew so boisterous, that his father +reproved him sternly for a violation of the rules of politeness. The +youth's brow flushed with sudden anger, and for the remainder of the +evening he sat apart from the company. When the party dispersed he did +not come forward to claim Florence, and she fell a second time to the +care of Col. Malcome. Edgar escorted Edith, and the couples went +different ways to reach their destinations. Edgar took the street by the +river, and Col. M. that leading past the seminary. The latter had much +the longer walk; but Edith, fragile and delicate, complained of fatigue, +ere they had proceeded far, and Edgar proposed she should rest awhile on +the trunk of a fallen tree by the river's brink. She sat down, and he, +after a few moments, assumed a seat at her side. Her veil was thrown +off, and her small silk hat had fallen back from her head, revealing in +full her girlish features and wavy, auburn curls. Edgar was gazing on +the beautiful face, when suddenly a footstep met his ear, and, turning, +he beheld his uncle, the hermit, standing before them, staring wildly +upon Edith; who, as soon as she discovered the strange-looking being, +uttered a faint scream and sunk on Edgar's bosom. "Don't be alarmed," +said he, whispering in her ear; "this man will not harm you,"--and then +lifting his head to address his uncle, and inquire what brought him +there, so far from home at that late hour, he found the hermit had +disappeared. + +Calming Edith's alarm as well as he was able, he escorted her home, and +then set off for the hut in the forest, pondering, as he went, upon the +event of the evening, and wondering what could be the cause of the +fierce and ireful expression which disfigured the usually placid face of +his uncle, as he gazed so fixedly on Edith. It reminded him of the +violent passion evinced in regard to his intercourse with Florence +Howard. He knew the recluse had experienced a severe disappointment in +early life, and concluded this had tended to sour his mind toward the +whole female race, and caused him to look with angry distrust upon the +most gentle and lovely of the sex. In no other way could he account for +the repugnance manifested by his uncle toward his friendship and +acquaintance with both Florence and Edith. Thus ruminating, he reached +the forest habitation to find all dark and gloomy. The hermit had not +returned to his hut. + +Col. Malcome lingered a moment as he escorted Florence to the door of +her father's mansion, and, as he did so, Major Howard stepped forth, +rather suddenly. Florence presented him to the colonel, and the two +gentlemen shook hands cordially. + +"I have frequently desired to call on you and form your acquaintance, +Col. Malcome," said the major; "but frequent absences from home, and the +delicate health of my wife, have prevented me hitherto." + +A slight, cynical smile flitted over the colonel's face at these latter +words, but it was not observed in the obscure light of evening, and he +answered, politely, that he had often desired an acquaintance with the +major, and hoped that now their children had established a friendly +intercourse, the parents might soon follow the example. + +Major Howard expressed a wish that it might be so, and Col. Malcome, +bowing gracefully, retired. + +Florence, after inquiring for her mother, and learning she was +comfortable as usual, ascended to her room, made fast the door, and drew +forth her journal, which was the dearest companion of her lonely hours, +the receptacle of her most treasured thoughts, and safety-valve for all +unuttered griefs and hidden sorrows. + +She had scarcely touched her gold-tipped pen to the virgin page, when a +soft knock on the door displaced her train of thought. + +"Father?" said she putting her lips close to the lock, for he was the +only one from whom she could expect a call at that late hour. There was +no answer. She hesitated a moment, and then opened the door. Hannah +Doliver slid in. + +Florence stood still, gazing with astonishment on the little wiry form, +as it wormed around the apartment, touching the books, and giving sudden +pulls at the curtains and bed drapery. She had never seen Hannah over +her threshold before, and wondered what a visit from her might import. + +"I came to see if you wanted anything, Miss Florence," said the woman, +at length, fixing her twinkling eyes on the fair girl's face. + +"No!" said Florence, in an impatient tone; "what should I want at this +hour, but to be alone?" + +"O, I'm not going to intrude upon you but a moment," returned Hannah. "I +thought, as you had been out late and 'twas rather cold, you might want +a fire lighted in your room, or a cup of warm tea, or something; so I +ran up to see." Florence grew more and more astonished. "Have you +enjoyed yourself this evening?" asked Hannah. + +"Yes," answered Florence briefly. + +"I am glad to hear it," returned the woman. "This Col. Mer---- what is +his name?" she paused and asked abruptly. + +"Malcome," said Florence. + +"O, yes! I'm bad at remembering strange names. Well, this Col. Malcome +has got some fine children, has he not?" + +"Yes," returned Florence; "his daughter is a beautiful girl." + +"And his son?" + +"Is a loggerhead." + +At these words, a furious anger, flashed over Hannah's face, and, +glaring fiercely on Florence for a moment, she darted from the room and +slammed the door behind her. The young girl turned the key, saying, "I'm +glad to be rid of her hateful presence. What possessed her to come here +is more than I can tell." And in the surprise this unusual visit +occasioned, she retired and forgot her journal. + + + + + CHAPTER XXI. + + "A mien that neither seeks nor shuns + The homage scattered in her way; + A love that hath few favored ones, + And yet for all can work and pray. + A smile wherein each mortal reads + The very sympathy he needs; + An eye like to a mystic book, + Of lays that bard or prophet sings, + Which keepeth for the holiest look + Of holiest love, its deepest things." + + +What an impetus was given to the cause of Woman's Rights, when the first +Bloomer stepped upon the stage! With what tremendous huzzas of triumph +and victory did the whole assaulting sisterhood mount the breaches thus +made in the great bulwarks of man's tyranny and despotism; infuriately +calling on every woman throughout the length and breadth of the nation +to rise in the might of her slumbering strength, make her petticoats +into pillars of defiance, and hurl them on the weak, unguarded outposts, +till the whole tottering fabric should go down with a crash to rise no +more. + +Mrs. Pimble and her coadjutors commenced rolling the ball of reform +with increased velocity. Mass meetings, of the most boisterous and +denunciatory character, were held through the community. It appeared a +war was commenced which threatened to cease only with the extermination +of the masculine portion of Wimbledon. Mr. Salsify Mumbles, though as +brave as most men in common encounters, was afraid to step outside his +door lest his unmentionables should be seized by some of the new-fledged +manhood, and a petticoat tied to his coat-tail. Even the green damask +curtains and cushion-coverings that adorned the high, old-fashioned +pulpit of the village church, were voted as ostentatious and calculated +to foster luxurious idleness in the pastor; and a committee appointed +and authorized to tear them from their places and sew them into bloomers +for the comfort of the lady-lecturers, whose callings exposed them to +the most inclement weathers. And so green-legged Philanthropy stalked +through Wimbledon; but it never laid an armful of wood on the sill of +Dilly Danforth's humble abode, though rough blew the storms of the +inclement winter; nor did it put a cap over Master Willie's curly locks, +or sew a charitable patch on the elbow of his ragged jacket. Because it +was philanthropy in the wider sense, which sought to relieve in the sum +of thousands--not of units. + +Mrs. Dr. Simcoe figured not so largely among the sisterhood of reformers +as she would have done had she not been encumbered by "Simcoe's +children," who were two of the most ill-natured, uncompromising +offshoots of barbarism that ever tormented a meek, unoffending woman. + +Mrs. Lawson thought some reformer should arise to fill the place so +nearly vacated by the persecuted lady, and fixed upon Mrs. Edson as her +successor. + +So, on a day, Mrs. Lawson, in green damask bloomers, black overcoat, and +deer-skin gloves, appeared on the steps of Mrs. Edson's mansion, and +gave a herculean pull at the door-bell which brought the master of the +house instanter, with staring eyes, to answer the pealing summons. "I +believe Mrs. Edson resides here," said the lady-reformist, looking +loftily upon the man, who was evidently very much struck with his +visitor's personal equipments. + +"She does," answered he, at length. + +"I have come to hold a conversation with her," said Mrs. Lawson, +stamping the snow from her boots, and proceeding toward the open door of +the sitting-room. + +Louise rose as she entered, glanced at the strange figure, then at her +husband, and then back to the figure again, with an amusing expression +of wonder on her beautiful features. + +"I do not know this--this person's name," said he, at length. + +"Lawson--Mrs. Portentia Lawson!" said the lady-reformist, laying her +walking-stick on the piano, and unbuttoning her over-coat. "I am +actively engaged in the benevolent enterprises of the day, and have come +to obtain your aid and coöperation, madam." Here she made a low +inclination toward Louise. + +"My wife does not meddle in such matters," said Mr. Edson, simply. "I +pay a stated sum yearly toward the support of the gospel, and give as +much as people in general to the missionary and Bible societies." + +"It is nothing to me," said Mrs. Lawson, turning sharply upon the +speaker, "what you give to support the gospel, or to endow Bible +societies. I have nothing to do with such milk-sop organizations, or the +donkeys that draggle at their heels. Other and loftier objects engage my +attention and claim my powers. My business is not with you, sir! It is +with the woman who condescends to acknowledge you as her husband!" +Having delivered herself of the preceding harangue, Mrs. Lawson turned +her attention to Louise, and vouchsafed no further notice of Mr. Edson, +who soon slunk out of the room and returned to his counter. + +"I suppose you are not wholly ignorant of the reform the more talented +of your sex are making efforts to effect in the social condition of +Wimbledon," remarked the nimble-tongued Mrs. Lawson to her fair auditor, +who was sitting in a low rocking-chair before the glowing grate, with +her tiny, slippered-feet poised on the fender. + +"Yes!" answered she, purposely ignorant. "I am confined at home by my +duties as a wife, and know very little of what is passing around me." + +Mrs. Lawson proceeded to give a detailed account of the labors of a +small band of enfranchised females for the liberation of their enslaved +and suffering sisters, whose weakness and timidity had hitherto +prevented their rising and throwing off the yoke of the oppressor, man. +So eloquently did she rehearse her tale, so still and patient was her +listener, that she felt confident of gaining a new coädjutor in the +ranks of female reform. As she finished her recital, she directed a +sharp, piercing glance toward Mrs. Edson, whose calm, clear eyes and +placid face evinced no disturbing emotions. + +"Will you join our ranks?" demanded Mrs. Lawson, "and aid us in rending +the fetters forged on woman's wrists by the tyrant man?" + +"No!" said Louise, in a quiet but determined tone. + +"Then you do not believe in Woman's Rights!" said Mrs. Lawson, half her +enthusiasm falling off and leaving her coarse features blank and bare. + +"O, yes!" answered Louise, her face brightening as she spoke, "I believe +in Woman's Rights with all my heart and soul. Yet not in crowds, and +camps, and forums, where swarming multitudes are jostling to and fro; +and brawls, and shouts, and loud harangues make tumult in the air, do I +believe she finds her proper sphere. Not in halls of legislation, or +among empannelled juries, or yet within the sacred desk, would I behold +the form of woman. No, no! what sight so revolting to a refined +soul--whether it dwell in male or female bosom--as unsexed womanhood, +booted and spurred, parading over rostrums, brawling in debates, and +spouting sophistical sentiments on subjects of whose true signification +they are as ignorant as an idiot of the laughter and derision his babble +excites? O, 'tis woman's thrice-beautiful right to relieve and succor +the care-worn and distressed, wherever on this goodly earth they fall +within the circle of her sphere and influence! To give sweet, +unobtrusive charities to the children of want! By gentle words of +sympathy and hope, to raise and cheer the drooping souls of her erring +sisters; and in dim-lighted rooms, where restless disease tosses on +couches of pain and agony, 'tis hers to move with noiseless tread, to +smooth the pillow, bathe the brow, and give the healing potion! Say not +her sphere is limited, her influence small, her mission low, or her +rights unacknowledged." + +Louise rose as she proceeded, her face glowing with the sentiments she +uttered. Mrs. Lawson stood before her, moving backwards gradually, till +she finally receded through the open door, took to the street, and was +seen no more in the home of Louise Edson. + + + + + CHAPTER XXII. + + "Babies are very well when they don't cry, + But when they do, I choose not to be nigh; + For of all awful sounds that can appal, + The most terrific is a baby's squall; + I'd rather hear a panther's hungry howl, + Or e'en a tiger's deep, ferocious growl, + Than sit in chimney-corner 'neath my hat, + And list the screechings of an irate brat." + + +We thought we would go to Mrs. Stanhope's this cold, starry, winter +evening, but on passing the parlor windows of Dea. Allen's cottage, the +curtains being yet undrawn, we distinguished, by the blazing firelight +within, the form of that good lady, and also that of her maiden sister, +Miss Martha Pinkerton, both sitting at the family table, drinking tea +with the good deacon and his amiable spouse. Amy Seaton and Charlie were +there, too, but we missed the laughing face of Jenny Andrews, and Mrs. +Allen said she was gone on a sleighing excursion, which a number of the +young people of Wimbledon were enjoying, this fine, bright evening. + +"I want to know," asked Miss Pinkerton, sipping her bohea, "if you +believe there's any truth in the report of Florence Howard's engagement +with Rufus Malcome, Mrs. Allen?" + +"Well, I never thought much about the matter," returned that +mild-visaged lady. "The young people's affairs don't interest me +particularly. The two families are quite intimate. We have the Malcomes +at our next door, and can't well avoid seeing a large number of their +visitors, as they come and go." + +"Col. Malcome is a very gentlemanly man," remarked Mrs. Stanhope, as +they were rising from the table. + +"Yes," said the good deacon, wiping his face with a yellow silk +handkerchief; "but sometimes I fear he is not the Christian he should +be. He never goes to church, and every Sunday that wicked-looking woman +of Major Howard's is there the whole day, racketing about with Rufus and +the servants. I don't think a peaceable, pious man would counsel such +doings, for my part." + +"That Hannah Doliver at Col. Malcome's every Sabbath?" said Miss +Pinkerton, opening wide her large, light eyes; "I don't see what she +does there; really, the impudence of some people is astonishing. 'Tis +likely she wants to see all she can and gossip about the colonel's +affairs." + +Nobody replied to this pert speech of Miss Martha's, and Mrs. Stanhope +resumed the conversation by giving a brief account of Mrs. Lawson's +discomfiting attempt to convert Mrs. Louise Edson into a reformer; she +having received an amusing description of the scene from Louise's own +lips. This was exciting considerable merriment among the group, when +there came a rap on the door, and Mrs. Salsify Mumbles entered with her +daughter, Mary Madeline; the latter carrying a bundle in her arms. +Before the salutations were fairly over, said bundle began to squeal, +and on removing several yellow flannel blankets, a baby was discovered +of nearly the same hue as the shawls which had enveloped it. + +And the baby became the toast on all sides; as what baby does not, when +making its debut among strangers? Mrs. Allen said it was the image of +its grandma, whereupon Mrs. Salsify laughed and looked supremely silly. +The deacon patted its back and said, "Poor little innocent! what a world +of sin and misery it has come into!" + +Mrs. Stanhope said it appeared very strong of its age, and Miss +Pinkerton gave it a hasty, expressive glance, which spoke _her_ opinion +more eloquently than words could have done. + +Amy and Charlie approached in their turn, and, gazing on it, exclaimed, +innocently, + +"What a _funny thing_!" + +Verily, there was more truth than fiction in these words. It certainly +_was_ a funny thing. On the crown of its long, bare, peaked head, stuck +one of the little, furbelowed caps we once saw Mrs. Salsify engaged in +making, which was tied down over its flapping ears with orange-colored +ribbon. A receding forehead, little specs of eyes, a turned-up nose, and +great blubber lips, adown whose corners flowed eternally two miniature +cataracts. O, what a face! Surely, nobody but a grandmother would be +pleased to have it said to resemble theirs. 'Twas such a scowling, +uncomfortable-looking baby, and had such a shrill, piercing squeal for a +cry; for all the world like a miniature porker. Mary Madeline tossed it +up and down in her arms, trotted it on her knee, but still it squealed, +and Mrs. Salsify said it was squealing for its father; it always did so +when it was carried away from him, and they should have to take it home. +So they bundled off, and then Miss Martha spoke. "It was strange people +would carry their squalling brats into their neighbors' houses to annoy +them." + +"Children are usually more trouble among strangers than at home," Mrs. +Allen remarked. + +Then Charlie Seaton said, "Willie Danforth told him it was always +squealing when he passed Mr. Salsify's, which was several times a day, +on his way to and from the seminary; and he thought they kept a pig in +their parlor, till one day he saw the baby's face at the window, and +discovered the sounds proceeded from its noisy throat." + +"How happens it that Willie Danforth goes to school at the seminary, +when his mother is so poor?" asked Miss Pinkerton. + +"Willie says his mother found a paper on her door-sill one morning," +answered Charlie, "and on opening it several bank-notes fell out. On the +paper was written, 'Use these for William's tuition at the seminary.' So +he is going to school till the money is spent." + +"Well, I declare," said Miss Martha, "that was a strange incident. Does +Mrs. Danforth know who left the money?" + +"She thinks it was the same one who leaves little bundles of sticks at +her door, every now and then," answered Charlie. + +"Well, who is that?" inquired Miss P. + +"O, she don't know," returned the lad. + +"I am glad some kind soul remembers the poor widow," said Mrs. Allen; +"for I have often feared many of us were too neglectful of the lone +woman." + +"You know, wife," said the deacon, "what sad reports we heard of her +hypocrisy; how she assumed an appearance of extreme poverty to create +sympathy and wheedle people into deeds of false benevolence. I do not +think such sinfulness should be countenanced." + +"I know such reports were spread abroad concerning her," remarked Mrs. +Stanhope; "but I never could trace them to any other source than that +ranting, blustering Mrs. Pimble." + +"What! that brawling, fanatical, crazy-pated, man-woman?" exclaimed the +deacon, vehemently; "pray, don't mention her. The wrath of God will fall +upon her and all the guilty brood who have desecrated His sanctuary, by +tearing down its curtains and converting them into garments to serve +Satan in." The excitable deacon was waxing warm, when his wife gave him +a conjugal nudge, and he held his peace. + + + + + CHAPTER XXIII. + + "From the hour by him enchanted, + From the moment when we met; + Henceforth by one image haunted, + Life may never more forget. + All my nature changed--his being + Seemed the only source of mine. + Fond heart, hadst thou no foreseeing + Thy sad future to divine?" + + +Florence Howard sat in a deep-cushioned fauteuil, beside a marble table +which graced the centre of the elegant apartment she called her own. A +loose robe, of India cashmere, in superb colors, with a lining of the +softest, rose-colored velvet, was folded carelessly about her graceful +form. One white hand toyed with the luxuriant chestnut curls, that hung +in beautiful profusion over her shoulders; the other rested lightly on +the cushioned arm of the chair. A quantity of rich writing materials +were spread out on the table before her; but she glanced towards them +listlessly, and at length bowed her queenly head between her hands, and +sat a long time still and silent, as if absorbed in reverie. Ever and +anon her little foot tapped impatiently the soft carpet beneath it, as +though some harassing, unpleasant vision disturbed her brain. The clear, +ringing chimes of the college clock finally aroused her to +consciousness. + +Rising, she drew aside the heavy folds of the damask curtain, and gazed +for a moment forth on the sleeping earth. The stars were bright, and a +slender crescent rim hung just above the dark cedar forest that swept +and swayed to the northward. Florence dropped the curtain, and, +returning to the table, opened a large morocco-bound volume, which +revealed a virgin page. Twirling the silver top from a carved, mosaic +inkstand, she dipped the golden tips of a pearl-handled pen in its ebon +contents, and holding it between her small, taper fingers, rested her +arm a few moments on the stand, as if waiting for her thoughts to form +and arrange themselves ere she gave them expression. Suddenly the pen +dashed off, and line after line of graceful characters grew on the pure, +white page till it was completely filled. + +"I have looked out on the midnight," she wrote, "with all its countless +diamonds blazing on its brow; and far on the verge of the northern +horizon hung the pale disc of the young crescent moon hurrying to +obscure itself behind the dark, gloomy forest,--like as my hopes fail +when I turn my eyes toward those cedar-tops. O, earth, how soon thy +children learn the lesson of sorrow and distrust! But where is my old +pen taking me this evening? This journal grows a sad, ghostly thing, +o'ersplashed with tears, and wo-fraught to the edges. + +"To turn the subject: What have I done to-day? Moped dismally till +evening, and then muffled myself in furs; sat down among cushions and +buffalo robes in the omnibus-sleigh, beside ----, shall I write it? yes! +beside Rufus Malcome, and dashed away over the snow-clad earth to the +music of merry bells and merrier voices around me. + +"How finely Jenny Andrews and Richard Giblet enjoyed themselves! I +understood their happiness well. Mrs. Edson was not quite so buoyant +with spirits as usual; but she conversed with Rufus in her charming +style. I was quite indignant to hear so much eloquence and refinement +wasted on a churl like him, and just malicious enough to think the fair +speaker would have preferred to say her pretty things in the ear of one +who could have better appreciated their worth and beauty, namely, Col. +Malcome. He is really a splendid man, though I hardly relish the power +he seems to exercise over father, who is so infatuated with him I +believe he would scarcely be able to refuse any request he might choose +to make. I wonder so talented a father should own a dolt like Rufus for +a son. Silly-pated fellow! he has made love to me several times. I say +_made_ it, and truthfully; for no such simpleton as he could ever +actually _feel_ it in their bosoms. But then, no doubt, he thinks he is +in love,--desperately so. I have no pity for him; nothing but contempt, +and yet, should he propose for me to my father, I fear the result would +be his acceptance. He has wealth and position, and I know father has a +suspicion that I have yet a lingering recollection of the hermit's boy, +as he calls Edgar. O, name of all others! Have I dared write it in full +on these pages? I must draw an obscuring line over it. There! Now, + + 'One last, long sigh to hope and love, + Then back to busy life again.'" + +While Florence was occupied with her journal in the room above, Col. +Malcome sat with her father in the parlor below, and that which she had +feared might some time come to pass had actually occurred; and when she +nestled down on her soft pillow and sank to sleep, if her slumbers were +not tranquil and dreamless, they were sweeter than any she might know +for many a weary night to come; for she slept in blissful ignorance that +she was the affianced bride of Rufus Malcome. Early on the following +morning her father imparted to her the dismal intelligence. + +"I have accepted him," said Major Howard, "on the conditions that the +engagement shall remain a secret between the families, and the union not +be consummated for at least one year, as you are both young. Col. +Malcome will give his son fifty thousand dollars on his marriage, and +also a splendid situation wherever he chooses to reside." + +He ceased, and Florence remained silent and abstracted. + +"This will be a match suitable for my daughter," said the fond father, +approaching and laying his hand affectionately on her bowed head. "Does +she not agree with me?" + +Florence lifted her face; the light seemed suddenly to have gone out of +her eyes and left them in utter darkness. No tinge of color glowed on +her features, which worked with painful and scarcely suppressed emotion. +The father started back on beholding her. "My child!" he exclaimed, +"what is the matter?" + +"Leave me alone, father, I entreat of you!" she said. + +"Not till you tell me what is distressing you so," said he, chafing her +cold hands in his. "Is this engagement so repulsive, so averse to your +feelings, as to cause this appearance of agony and distress?" + +But she only said, "Leave me, dear father, I entreat you, for a while! I +have a sudden illness. By and by I will speak to you." + +Awed by her tone and manner, the fond father obeyed. An hour passed by, +during which the grief-stricken girl never moved, when the door opened, +and Hannah Doliver entered. She glowered on Florence with an expression +of hate and gratified revenge, which changed to one of fawning fondness +when the pale, tear-stained face was turned toward her. "Pray, don't sit +here in the cold all day!" said she. "Your mother desires you to come to +her." + +Florence wrapped her rich dressing-gown around her, stole down the +stairs and entered the apartment of the invalid, who reached her wasted +arm from the bed as she approached, and clasped it round the slender, +graceful waist. The young girl bowed her head on the pillow, and burst +into tears. + + + + + CHAPTER XXIV. + + "He held a letter in his withered hand + Which brought good tidings of the absent one. + O, what soul-cheering things are letters, when + They come fresh from the hand of one we love, + All brimming o'er with kindly-uttered words!" + + +The wailing winds swept onward with low and piteous sound, while the +"Hermit of the Cedars" sat beneath his humble roof, beside a rough +table, and, by the light of a tallow candle, pored over a +closely-written page. In the recess of the small window, a bright-haired +boy was sitting, very like the dreamy Edgar who sat there in summers and +seasons passed by, and watched the stars gleaming, like showers of +diamonds, through the interlacing forest-boughs. But it was not Edgar, +for he was far away, storing his mind from the mines of ancient lore. + +It was our little friend, Willie Danforth, the washerwoman's boy, for +whom the hermit had taken a large fancy since Edgar left him, and often +coaxed him from his mother to pass a few nights at the hut in the +forest. Willie, as we see him now, in the place where we were wont to +behold Edgar, is certainly wonderfully like him; and so thought Florence +Howard, when she saw the tall, graceful youth, in the same morocco cap +and blue frock coat Edgar used to wear, wending his way past her +father's mansion to the seminary on the hill. She sought to learn his +name; and some person, not very well informed, said 'twas William +Greyson, another foundling of that strange hermit's. + +But we wander from the lonely man, who still pores over the sheet he +holds in his attenuated fingers. It is a letter from Edgar Lindenwood. + +"Dear, dear uncle," it runs, "gladly I turn from musty tomes of olden +time lore, to give to you the star-lit midnight hour. Fancy, on airy +pinions, flits away over mountain-top and valley, and rests upon that +long arm of the tall linden, that stretches close to your lowly window, +and gazes through the narrow panes on your dear form, bending over some +treasured volume, or sitting, with bowed head, before a blazing fire, +lost in reveries of thought and contemplation. You express a fear that I +may have deemed you arbitrary and severe in the control sometimes +exercised over my humors and inclinations. Your fear is groundless, +uncle. Though some of your commands may have cost me a struggle ere I +could unmurmuringly obey, I have too high an estimate of your judgment +and discrimination to rebel against an authority I feel is grounded in +reason, and only exercised for my benefit and welfare in future life. + +"I remember a tale, my mother oft breathed in my infantine ears, of a +bright star that once skirted the literary horizon, and ere long darkly +disappeared; of a lofty, sensitive nature, that met a staggering blow, +and reeled to earth, no more to soar aloft. And, though I have never +known the details of that early disappointment, I regard, with +overflowing reverence, sympathy, and devotional affection, the suffering, +uncomplaining heart that struggles silently on, with its wreck of +youthful hopes and aspirations. + +"Shall I tell you, uncle, my university life promises to be a brief one? +You will think it augurs badly for the erudition of the faculty of this +institution, when I inform you that they have placed me among the senior +class, which will graduate in the coming spring. Then I propose to take a +brief tour of travel, and amuse myself by sketching from the beautiful +scenery of this country. I find the passion for art increases with my +years. Once I wished to be a poet, but now the painter's pencil yields me +most delight. + +"Ere long I hope to return to that home among the Cedars, and sit down to +quiet evenings by my dear uncle's side, with no sound in our ears save +the eternal roar of the mighty forest winds. + +"Far from experiencing a jealous pang, I rejoice to learn you have found +an object of interest in the youth you have taken under your care. May he +prove a grateful companion to your solitude, is the sincere wish of, +Yours, most truly, EDGAR." + +Such were the contents of the letter which the hermit perused several +times ere he folded it, and turned his attention to the boy, who was +still sitting by the small window, gazing forth into the windy night. + +"William," said he--and the lad approached. + +Something seemed trembling on the thin lips of the recluse which he +hesitated to reveal. At length, as if suddenly changing his purpose, he +said: "Do you think your mother is comfortable, to-night, my boy?" + +"O, yes, sir!" answered Willie, "the large bundle of sticks you left at +her door yesterday evening will keep her warm for several days." + +"I hope they may," returned the hermit; "'tis a sad thing to be poor, +Willie, but 'tis a sadder thing to be wicked." + +"You do not think my mother is wicked, do you?" asked the boy, turning +his blue eyes quickly on the hermit's countenance. + +"Why do you ask?" said he, returning Willie's startled glance with a +grave smile. + +"Because I knew Mr. Pimble's folks said harsh things of her, and I +didn't know but you believed them, as you never chose to enter our +humble abode." + +"My gloomy disposition is averse to intercourse with the generality of +my species," returned the hermit, in a solemn tone; "nor do I ever heed +or hear the tales and gossipings of idle lips. In the last ten years I +have held no converse with any human beings, save you and your ---- and +my nephew, Edgar Lindenwood." + +Willie gazed on the strange man before him in silent awe. "Has your +mother ever expressed a wish to see me?" inquired the hermit, after a +pause. + +"Often," said Willie. + +"For what purpose?" demanded the recluse, in a quick, sudden tone, +looking eagerly on the boy's face. + +"To thank you for all your kindness to her," replied the lad, +ingenuously. + +"O, yes!" returned the solitary man, his features relapsing into their +usual placid serenity. "I wish not, nor deserve, her thanks for the +humble charities given. Let us seek our couch, my boy." + +"Have you another name than William?" he asked, as they were lying down. + +"Yes," answered the youth; "William Ralph is my name,--the first for my +father, the second for an uncle who went to distant countries, ere I can +remember, and has never been heard of since." + +"Was the uncle your father's or mother's brother?" inquired the hermit, +in a careless tone. + +"My mother's. Ralph Greyson was his name." + +"And does your mother appear to mourn his loss, or wish for his return?" +said the hermit, still in the same careless, half-absorbed tone of +voice. + +"She speaks pityingly of him sometimes, for he was a bright, promising +youth, she says, when one distressful circumstance crushed his hopes and +ruined his usefulness; but I do not think she desires his return, for he +left his native shores cursing her as the cause of his misfortunes." + +"Ah! how had she caused his misfortunes?" asked the hermit, drowsily. + +"By marrying below her sphere," said Willie, in a trembling, embarrassed +tone; "a man who proved a vulgar sot, and thus disgracing him in the +eyes of a proud family, with whom he sought an alliance." + +As Willie ceased speaking, the hermit breathed heavily, as if in deep +sleep; so, turning his face to the cedar-plaited wall, the lad was soon +wrapped in his own sweet, youthful slumbers. + + + + + CHAPTER XXV. + + "Wasting away--away--away, + Slowly, silently, day after day. + Fainter, and fainter and fainter the flow, + Of the current of life more sluggish and slow, + And a ghastly glare in the glassy eye, + And the wan cheek tinged with a hectic dye." + + +In the dim gloom of a soft spring evening, a slender, graceful form bent +silently over a low, curtained couch, gently fanning the annoying +insects from the pale brow of its slumbering occupant. The apartment was +furnished with almost princely magnificence. Curtains of the richest +blue-wrought damask, hung in massy folds from ceiling to floor, before +the deep bay-windows. Rosewood sofas and fauteuils, in costly coverings +of the same soft color, rested on the brilliantly interwoven flowers of +the Persian carpet, whose velvety softness echoed not the slightest +tread. A fairy chandelier hung suspended from the lofty, corniced +ceiling. Rare statuary decorated the mantel. Large mirrors and pictures +in broad gilt frames adorned the walls. Marble stands, covered with +deep-fringed cloths of gold, on which lay books in superb bindings, +graced the several corners, and the carved mahogany bedstead, behind +whose ample curtains of azure velvet the sleeper reposed, among +white-piled cushions of softest down, vied in elegant luxury with the +couch of an eastern princess. And there, with one white, wasted arm +thrown above the head, all shorn of its bright wealth of auburn curls, +and the other concealed 'neath the silken coverings, lay Edith Malcome, +the blue veins almost starting from her pale brow, and a bright crimson +spot on the sunken cheek. Alas, that earth's most lovely should fall the +earliest victims to the withering hand of disease! The door did softly +asunder, and her father entered. With an expression of deep care and +suffering depicted on his handsome features, he approached the bed-side. + +"Is she still sleeping?" demanded he, in a whisper which would have been +inaudible to an ear less quick than that of the silent watcher. + +"She is," was the ready answer, in the same hushed tone. He gazed +intently for several moments on the attenuated form before him, while +every variety of expression passed over his countenance. + +"If she dies," said he, at length, in a voice broken with grief, "what +will be left on earth to me?" + +The watcher was deeply affected by his grief-stricken appearance. "O, +speak not thus!" she said, bursting into tears. "She will not die; the +doctor has given us better hopes to-day. But even if she were to be +taken to her home in the skies, you must not say there's nothing left on +earth for you. You, so bright in soul and intellect, surrounded by +admiring friends and all the luxuries of princely wealth, with a son to +perpetuate your name"---- + +"Say no more," interrupted the afflicted man. "I cannot endure your +words." + +Louise was grieved to see she had only wounded where she meant to +soothe, and, with a gentle, impulsive movement, placed her hand on the +soft black curls of the head that was bowed among the cushions of the +bed, and said, "Forgive me, I meant not to afflict." + +Silently he took the little hand in his, and placed it on his throbbing +temples. Louise trembled. + +"Your brow is feverish," said she at length, seeking an excuse to +withdraw the imprisoned hand; "let me bathe it in some cooling lotion." + +"No," said he, "this moist little palm is better than any lotion," still +detaining it, as she sought to reach the stand which contained a +quantity of vials on a silver tray. The slight movements aroused Edith. +Opening her large, spiritual eyes, she gazed up in the faces of the +watchers at her bed-side, with a vague, dreamy expression. + +"Don't you know me, Edith?" asked her father, bending quickly over her. + +"O, yes, father!" answered she faintly; "and that lady is my mother," +she added, staring confusedly upon Louise, as if not yet in full +possession of her waking faculties. + +Louise looked embarrassed, and the colonel hastened to say, "That is +Mrs. Edson, my dear, who watches with you to-night. You are wandering a +little, I fear." + +"Well, where is my mother, then?" continued Edith, in the same strange +manner, which appeared to agitate her father deeply. + +"My child," said he, in a soothing tone, "have I not often told you your +mother died when you was a very little girl?" + +"I don't know," said Edith, "but last night I dreamed she came with a +pale face and bloody lips and stared so mournfully upon me. I wish you +would go and bring her to me, father." + +"My daughter, do I not tell you she is in her grave?" said the father, +trembling with emotion. "How can I bring her to you?" + +"Hannah Doliver told Rufus she would come if you would let her," +continued the sick girl, in a reproachful tone, apparently not +understanding her father's words. + +On hearing this, Col. Malcome started with a violent exclamation, which +alarmed Edith, and brought her at once into full possession of her +senses. Louise, who had marked, with her quick eye, the colonel's +strange excitement, approached and administered a reviving cordial to +the invalid. The father soon retired, leaving the watcher alone with her +charge. + +As the hours dragged slowly on, many were the thoughts which passed +through Mrs. Edson's active brain, as to the cause of Edith's singular +words, and the anger and excitement evinced by her father. At length the +gray morning dawned, and Sylva, Edith's attendant, appeared to relieve +the watcher from her post. + +As Louise was passing through the hall to gain the street, the door +suddenly opened, and Col. Malcome entered in cap and overcoat. He paused +and inquired if his daughter had passed a comfortable night, and, on +receiving an affirmative answer, proceeded to the drawing-room. + + + + + CHAPTER XXVI. + + "The old days we remember; + How softly did they glide! + While, all untouched by worldly care, + We wandered side by side. + In those pleasant days, when the sun's last rays + Just lingered on the hill; + Or the moon's pale light, with the coming night, + Shone o'er our pathway still. + + "The old days we remember, + O, there's nothing like them now! + The glow has faded from our hearts, + The blossom from the bough. + A bitter sigh for the hours gone by, + The dreams that might not last; + The friends deemed true when our hopes were new, + And the glorious visions past." + + +Rufus Malcome, as the accepted suitor of Florence, paid regular visits +to her father's mansion. Great was the glee of Hannah Doliver to behold +the young couple together; and great the nervous disquiet evinced by the +invalided Mrs. Howard when she was aware of the young man's presence in +the house. She had never met him, as her health, which had in the last +six months rapidly declined, confined her now entirely to her room, and +indisposed her more strongly than ever to behold strange faces. + +The only person she had ever been known to express a wish to see, since +her residence in Wimbledon, was Edith Malcome,--a wish excited, perhaps, +by Florence's warm praises of the grace and beauty of her young friend, +who was as different from Rufus, she said, "as a sweet pink from an +odious poppy." + +But Edith, strange as it may appear, had never visited at the Howards', +though often warmly invited by the whole family. + +The colonel invariably excused her in his easy, graceful manner, saying +she was "a timid little thing, and dreaded to go for a moment from her +father's side." Latterly, her illness had been sufficient reason for her +seclusion. + +Florence was restricted from frequent visits to her sick friend by the +state of her own health, which had grown so feeble and delicate as to +alarm her father exceedingly. Dr. Potipher was consulted, and strongly +advised travel and change of scene as the most effectual remedy for the +feverish disease that seemed preying upon her constitution. + +Major Howard was very willing to take his daughter on a tour of travel, +but knew not how to leave his invalid lady, whose strength he thought to +be gradually failing. She was far too low for him to indulge the idea of +making her one of the party, and he was about relinquishing the project +in despair, when, on mentioning the subject to the sick woman, great was +his surprise to find her even more anxious and earnest for his departure +than he was to go. She said "she should do very well without him,--she +always mended as summer approached, and Florence was drooping from long +and close confinement. She needed exercise and change of scene, and it +was his duty to do all in his power to restore her to health and +cheerfulness." Major Howard felt the only obstacle removed by the +invalid's assent and hearty coöperation; so Florence was informed of the +project, and preparations immediately commenced for her tour. + +It was a pleasant April evening as she sat in her luxurious apartment +with her journal open before her. "The last of these bright spring +evenings that I am to pass at home is closing in around me," she wrote. +"My trunks are packed and closed down, and to-morrow I am to start on a +tour of travel. How my long torpid bosom bounds at the thought! I shall +sail up that picturesque Hudson! I shall look on glorious Niagara! But I +fear my anticipations are too brilliant. Something will occur to dreg my +expected draught of happiness with sorrow. Thus it has ever been! Too +well I know I shall return to become the bride of one I detest; but I +will not let that thought embitter my enjoyment of the wonders and +beauties I shall behold. Besides, in so long a time as I shall be +absent, what may occur? Ah, I have written words that make me shudder! I +fear I may return to find the snows covering my mother's grave. Why do I +leave her? Is it not selfishness to allow her to urge me away when it is +her own generous care and affection for me which prompt her to do so? +There is something strange in the way she speaks of my matrimonial +engagement. I am sure it does not meet her approval, though she gave her +consent, as she always does to everything upon which father sets his +mind. She evidently dreads its consummation, perhaps because she has +discovered my aversion for the man I am to marry. As to Hannah Doliver, +she is wonderfully mollified toward me of late; but her fawning fondness +is more intolerable than her asperity and impertinence. Nothing seems to +delight her so much as to behold Rufus Malcome in company with me. I +caught her watching at the parlor-door this evening when he called in +company with his father to leave his adieus. She accompanied them to the +door and remained several minutes in conversation in the hall. I found +her in the kitchen a short time after, and she was muttering to herself +and slamming things about in a great rage. When she discovered me she +ceased, and grew suddenly as sunny as summer. She is a strange, dark, +intriguing woman, I fear, and wish we were well quit of her. I asked +mother if she had not better discharge her, and get a new person to +attend her during our absence; but she said, with a sudden expression of +alarm, 'O, no; she would not part with Hannah on any account!' So I said +no more, but fancied her preference was dictated more by fear than love. +But I spin out a long record for this last evening at home. O, budding +vines and flowers! who will train your rich luxuriance into fairy, +fantastic clusterings, or watch your opening petals in the summer which +is to come? Who listen to the babbling fountains, or roam the cedar-walks +that border the dancing river? And O, the far, far-stretching forest, +from whose mysterious depths, in a bright year passed away, I saw _him_ +emerge, and hurried down the gravelled path to meet him at the +garden-gate, with happy, bounding heart! Will new scenes, however glad +and gay, e'er dim the memory of those dear times? Never!" + + + + + CHAPTER XXVII. + + "It is a pleasant thing to roam abroad, + And gaze on scenes and objects strange and grand; + To sail in mighty ships o'er distant seas, + And roam the mountains of a foreign land." + + +In Mrs. Stanhope's pretty cottage, close by the vine-shaded window, sat +Jenny Andrews, and she said Florence Howard had started on a tour of +travel. + +"Who is her companion?" asked Mrs. Stanhope. + +"Why, Rufus Malcome, of course," said Miss Pinkerton, quickly. + +"No," said Jenny, "her father." + +"Her father!" exclaimed Miss Martha, in a tone of surprise. "How in the +world could he leave his sick wife, I should like to know?" + +"Mrs. Howard is getting better, I believe," remarked Jenny. + +"Well, that's strange enough," continued Miss Pinkerton; "with that +impudent Hannah Doliver for a nurse, I wonder she has not died before +now." + +Hannah Doliver was Miss Martha's utter detestation, though why, we +cannot tell, as the little dark woman had never injured her, nor had +Miss Pinkerton ever exchanged above a dozen syllables with her in her +life. But it was one of those unaccountable dislikes which often arise +in people of certain temperaments, on first sight of a particular +individual. + +Mrs. Stanhope said she was glad Florence had gone a journey, for the +dear girl had looked pale and sickly of late, and she thought change of +scene might be beneficial to her health. + +Miss Martha inquired if Jenny knew how Edith Malcome was getting along. + +"I have just come from her," said Jenny; "she is very much changed. All +her beautiful hair has been cut away, and she is, O, so thin and wasted! +But they call her slowly improving." + +"Who takes care of her?" asked Miss P. + +"Her waiting-woman, Sylva, I believe," returned Jenny. + +"Well, it must be very hard for her to do it all the time," said Martha; +"if they would just ask me, I would go any time and assist them." + +"Mrs. Edson is there considerable," remarked Jenny. + +"I know she is; most too much for her credit," returned Miss Pinkerton; +"if a man has a wife, he wants her at home sometimes." + +"Why, Martha!" observed Mrs. Stanhope, mildly; "I never heard a +reproachful word of Mrs. Edson breathed by any person." + +"Neither did I," said Jenny, rising; "and if I do, I shan't believe it, +for I think she is the dearest, sweetest creature in the world." + +"With the exception of one Mr. Richard Giblet," remarked Miss Pinkerton, +in a tone she conceived to be vastly witty and piquant. + +Jenny's blush, as she bade good-morning, crowned the malicious maiden's +triumph. + +On this same morning, Mrs. Edson sat at her elegant rosewood piano, +carelessly striking the ivory keys, when she heard a light footstep, and +turning, beheld Col. Malcome advancing to her side. She was a little +angry that he had entered unannounced, and her cheeks flushed, as she +rather briefly bade him welcome. + +"I beg your pardon for entering so informally," said he, at once +interpreting the expression of her face. "Your doors were all ajar, and +I saw no one to announce me." + +"Had you rung, some one would have appeared," said Louise, with a slight +curl of her red lip. + +"Well, I beg your pardon for not doing so," returned he. "Will you grant +it?" + +There was something in the rueful appearance he assumed, which forced +her to laugh in spite of her efforts at dignity and restraint, and thus +he was reinstated in her good graces. + +"Are you playing?" he asked, touching his own fingers upon the keys, but +at a respectful distance from hers. + +"No," she returned. "I have practised so little of late I have lost all +my ear. Won't you favor me with that thrilling piece from Beethoven, you +performed on the first evening of our acquaintance?" She looked eagerly +in his face as she spoke. + +"What will you do for me if I will?" he asked. + +"O, anything in my power!" she replied, rising, and motioning him to +assume the music-stool, which he did very readily. Skilfully running +over the keys, by way of prelude, while she stood leaning gracefully +against the instrument, intently regarding his movements, he commenced +the symphony. The swelling notes rose on the air in brilliant variety, +and when, at the end of the second chorus, the rich, mellow tones of his +voice were added, Louise dropped on her knees beside the performer, +while tears gathered in her eyes and rolled over her beautiful face. He +did not seem to heed her position, so intently was his soul occupied +with the music his lips were breathing. At length the last magic strain +died mournfully away. Then he rested his deep blue eyes calmly on her +glowing features. + +"What shall I do for you?" she asked, smiling. + +"You promised," answered he, "to do anything I wished, if I would sing +the piece." + +"So I will," returned she, earnestly. + +"Then," said he, in a low, thrilling tone, "as Steerforth said to David, +think of me at my best." + +She looked at him eagerly. "Is that all?" she asked. + +"That is enough," he answered; "will you promise _always_ to do that?" + +She paused a few moments, and then answered, in a tone which indicated +her whole soul spoke in the words, "Yes, I promise." + +"Thank you," said he, extending his hand. + +She gave him hers. He held it a moment in his own. Then, pressing it +respectfully to his lips, bade her good-morning, and retired. + + + + + CHAPTER XXVIII. + + "And when in other climes we meet, + Some isle or vale enchanting, + And all looks flowery, wild and sweet, + And naught but love is wanting, + We think how blest had been our fate, + If Heaven had but assigned us + To live and die 'mid scenes like this, + With some we've left behind us." + + +Shout, reader, on the hill-tops of deliverance, for you and I are out of +Wimbledon. We have left behind us the Pimbles, the Mumbles, the Simcoes, +and their multitudinous voices grow indistinct in the distance, as, +borne by the rushing steam-steed, we fly on our way in search of our +fair traveller, who has got the start of us by several hours. We hardly +know whether to go up the Hudson, or hold straight on over the Erie road +for Niagara; but as we have no particular desire to see the former, our +remembrances of its picturesque scenery being marred by the unpleasant +circumstances under which we first beheld it, we incline to the latter +course. + +So world-wondered-at Niagara shall be our destination, where Florence +Howard and her father are already arrived and installed occupants of a +regally-furnished suite of apartments at the Clifton House on the Canada +side of the river. + +The new arrival had created quite a sensation; as new arrivals at these +fashionable watering-places, where the masses resort to display +themselves and behold and comment upon the display of others, always do. +As Florence, dressed with simple grace, leaned on the arm of her +noble-looking father, and entered the spacious dining-saloon, where +hundreds of both sexes, all flaunted out in the gayest and richest +attire, were already seated at the splendidly laid tables, every eye +levelled a critical glance on her garb and figure. Many an elegant lady, +in startling silks and astonishing ear-jewels, turned her nose sublimely +skyward and exclaimed "No great fetch,--these folks!" Gentlemen, in +surprising pants and prodigious vest buttons, said, with a princely +contempt, "Aw, an unsawphistawcated country gawl!" + +But there were some, the precious few, who graced the saloons of the +Clifton House, not to gorge themselves on its spicy viands, or grow +inebriate over its sparkling wines, or yet to display their spindling +limbs encased in miraculous tights, their alarming waistcoats and +elephantine fob-chains; but who had come to look on and admire the +wonderful cataract, with its surrounding scenery of wildness and +grandeur; who marked the elegant bearing of an accomplished lady in the +sweet open countenance, simple dress, and graceful movements of the "new +arrival." + +Florence seemed wholly regardless of the volleys of glances directed +toward her during the sumptuously-served dinner. She retired before +dessert, so great was her impatience of a nearer view of the sublime +spectacle visible from the piazzas of the Clifton House. + +On Table Rock she stood, with her father's arm cast protectingly around +her, and gazed, tremulous with intense emotion, on the tremendous sweep +of rushing waters over the mighty horse-shoe fall, down, down forever, +upon the floods that boiled and surged like fathomless seas of angry +foam in the depths below. Then she turned to the lofty American fall, +spanned by its brilliant rainbow, like the bright wing of the Spirit of +the Waters cast beauteously o'er her stupendous creation of power and +sublimity. + +Florence gazed till the shades of evening obscured the magnificent +scene, and then, clinging to her father's arm, returned to the hotel. On +gaining her room, she tossed off her bonnet and shawl and seized her +journal. + +"Are you not going to tea?" asked her father. + +"No," answered she, almost sharply. "I cannot so suddenly descend to the +actual, or come in so quick contact with the grossness of earth after +the god-like sublimity I have been contemplating." + +Her father called her a little enthusiast, and walked away. Left to +herself she drew forth her journal. + +"Eventful day!" she wrote. "I have stood among the mists of Niagara. +Fain would I voice the tumult flood of emotions that rushed over my soul +as I gazed on its wondrous sublimity: but language is impotent, and I am +weak,--weaker than usual; I think from reaction of my overstrained +powers. + +"I could lie down and weep like a tired child. The tremendous roar of +the mighty waters is in my ear as I write. O, Niagara, Niagara! what +henceforth will be to me the brightest scene our country can afford--for +I have looked on thee, and what is left me now?" + +She closed her book, and, stepping out on the piazza, leaned her arms +over the balustrade, and stood with her gaze riveted on the boiling +cataracts, now flashing like sheets of burnished silver in the soft +moonlight. While she was thus occupied a young lady approached and +accosted her. + +"You are just arrived at the Falls, I fancy," said she, with a pleasant +smile. + +"I arrived to-day," answered Florence, politely. + +"You do not know me," remarked the young lady; "but I think I have seen +you before." + +Florence gazed on the eloquent features, but she did not detect a +resemblance to any person she had ever known. + +"You have the advantage of me," she said; "I do not recollect you." + +"Probably not," returned the young lady; "but did you never reside in a +village called Wimbledon, at a beautiful mansion styled 'Summer House?'" + +"I have just come from there," said Florence, gazing with surprise in +the face of her fair interrogator. + +"So I thought," remarked the young lady, "and your name, excuse my +boldness, is Florence Howard. Mine is Ellen Williams. I once resided in +Wimbledon, and saw you several times at the village church. You, +probably, did not notice me, or, if you did, my features would be easily +forgotten. Not so yours. I recognized you the moment you entered the +dining hall. How do you like Niagara?" + +"O, I am charmed, spell-bound!" exclaimed Florence. "Its glorious +sublimity thrills to the centre of my soul." + +"Your enthusiasm reminds me of a young painter and poet we have had here +several weeks," said Miss Williams; "he left us only this morning. I was +down to the Suspension Bridge to-day, and read some verses he left in +pencil on the painted railings. His sketches of the Falls from different +points of view were very fine. He was very handsome, and had a sweet +name. I believe half the ladies were dead in love with him, but he never +bestowed a single encouraging glance on all their attempts to win his +favor." + +"Quite an insensible young man, I should think," said Florence, smiling. +"What did you say was his name?" + +"Lindenwood," returned Miss Williams. "I do not know whence he came, but +from some remote part of the country, I think." + +Florence heard none of the young lady's words after the name was +mentioned, and it is difficult to say into what awkwardness her emotion +might have betrayed her, had not her father appeared at this juncture +and called her to her room. She recollected herself sufficiently to bid +good-evening to Miss Williams as she hastened away leaning heavily on +her father's arm. + +Fastening her door, she dropped on a sofa, and exclaimed, "Alas, alas! +one day too late at Niagara." + + + + + CHAPTER XXIX. + + "Flow on forever in thy glorious robe + Of terror and of beauty. Yea, flow on, + Unfathomed and resistless! God hath set + His rainbow on thy forehead, and the cloud + Mantled around thy feet. + Methinks, to tint + Thy glorious features with our pencil's point, + Or woo thee to the tablet of a song, + Were profanation." + + +Early the following morning Florence was astir, begging her father to +take her to the Suspension Bridge. She hardly glanced at the magnificent +appearance of the Canada fall, as the sunbeams changed its floods of +spray into bright showers of diamonds. + +There she stood on the piazza, her cheeks flushed with vermilion, and +her dark eyes glowing with the animation and excitement within. + +"I cannot take you to the bridge till after breakfast," said her father, +in reply to her urgent appeals to set out immediately. + +"Must I wait so long?" said Florence dismally. + +While the father and daughter stood debating the point, Florence's +acquaintance of the preceding day appeared, attended by a handsome young +man, whom she introduced as her brother Edward. + +Major Howard recollected the Williams family, and seemed gratified to +renew his acquaintance. + +"Col. Malcome occupies your old residence," said he to the young man, as +they left the ladies to themselves and walked to the opposite side of +the piazza. + +After a pause, Florence asked her companion if she "had ever visited +Wimbledon since she left it." + +"No;" answered the young lady, "though I have often desired to do so. +There was a poor washerwoman there, who had a little boy about my own +age, in whom I took a childish interest, and I would like much to learn +something of his fate." + +"What was his name?" asked Florence. + +"Willie Danforth," said Miss Williams. + +"I know a washerwoman by the name of Dilly Danforth," returned Florence. + +"That is his mother." + +"I do not think she has a child," said Florence doubtfully. + +"Then he is dead!" said Miss Williams in a trembling voice. + +Florence pitied her emotion, and after a few moments said, "There is a +tall, graceful lad, I think they call Willie Greyson, who lives with the +strange forest-recluse, of whom you have heard, perhaps." + +"Greyson!" repeated Ellen; "that I have heard was Mrs. Danforth's maiden +name; but Willie was never called so; besides, why should he leave his +mother to dwell with a hermit? O, no; my Willie must be dead! I said, +when I left him, I should never see him again." And the gentle girl +wiped a tear from her sweet blue eye. + +The gentlemen now approached, and Major Howard invited the Williamses to +join them in their visit to the Suspension Bridge; but they had an +engagement with a party to visit Goat Island. Florence felt relieved to +hear this, for she preferred, for reasons of her own, to be attended by +no one but her father on the present excursion. They now descended to +the dining-hall, where an elegant breakfast was served. Florence ate but +a few tiny bits of a delicate crisp muffin, and sipped lightly at her +cup of fragrant Mocha. Her eager desire to gain the bridge destroyed all +relish for the dainty dishes spread in such variety and profusion before +her. At length her father announced a carriage in readiness. Hastily +folding a sheet of note-paper, and placing it in her pocket, she swung +her gold chain over her neck, to which was attached a richly-embossed +pencil, and followed him to the door. They were soon rolling away. + +Florence saw nothing till they gained the bridge,--frail, trembling +thing, thrown at such dizzy height above the wild, rushing river. Her +father asked if she would ride or walk over. She would walk, and he +ordered the driver to halt. Assisting her from the carriage, they +stepped upon the swaying fabric. Florence kept close to the railings, +though he cautioned her to walk in the centre, and called her attention +to the fine view of the falls in the distance. But she did not notice +them, and, pausing suddenly, drew the sheet of note-paper from her +pocket and commenced writing. + +"What are you doing?" said her father at length, noticing her head bowed +close to the railing. + +"Wait a moment and I'll tell you," said she. "There! I believe I have +them all correct now. Shall I read them to you?" + +"What are they?" asked he. + +"Verses. I found them written in pencil on this painted strip." + +"Are they worth reading?" inquired he, carelessly. + +"O, yes!" she returned, earnestly. "Very pretty, I think!" + +"Well, go on, then!" said he. + +She commenced in a low tone, which grew in depth and sweetness as she +proceeded. Surely, if the author had never had the vanity to deem his +brief production possessed of merit, he would have grown into conceit of +it had he heard it falling so sweetly from those half-tremulous lips. + + "Sea-green river, white and foamy, + Madly rushing on below; + While that fairy-looking fabric + Bends, and sways, and trembles so; + Fragile, frail and fairy fabric, + Boldly thrown so wildly high; + Wondrous work of art suspended + Midway 'twixt the earth and sky! + + "Strong and firm the metal wires + Stretch to Canada's green shores; + As to link with bands of iron + Queen Victoria's realms to ours. + Passage-way for England's lion, + Unborn ages may it be; + While above him, in the ether, + Sails the Eagle of the Free! + + "In the distance, dread Niagara, + Thing of wonder and of fear, + Pours its mighty flood of waters, + While the echoes soothe the ear. + Nature's wildest forms of beauty. + All around profusely thrown; + Bowing in her proudest temple, + Beggared Art, we humbly own!" + +As Florence ceased she refolded the paper and placed it in her pocket. + +"You did not read the author's name," said her father. + +"There was no name attached to them," answered she. "Nothing, only some +initials which were rather indistinct." + +"Some modest bard," remarked the major, as they retraced their steps to +the carriage, "who, as Byron says, + + 'Like many a bard unknown, + Rhymes on our names, but wisely hides his own.' + +This poet sings of bridges, but does not sign his name to his songs." + +Florence was silent during their drive to the hotel. Niagara seemed +suddenly to have lost its interest for her, and after a few more days +they departed, with young Williams and his lovable little sister in +their company. + + + + + CHAPTER XXX. + + "O, why should Heaven smile + On deeds of darkness--plots of sin and crime? + I cannot tell thee why, + But this I know, she often doeth so." + + +While the bright summer passed over Wimbledon, matters apparently moved +on as usual in the quiet little village. + +The Woman's Rights Reform lagged somewhat with the thermometer at +eighty, as is frequently the case with benevolent organizations; perhaps +because their zealous warmth, when increased by a high-temperatured +atmosphere, mounts to spirits' boil and evaporates. + +Mrs. Pimble and Mrs. Lawson sat on their respective piazzas, in nankin +pants and open waistcoats, and flapped great peacocks' tails to and fro, +to cool their feverish, perspiring brows. + +Mr. Pimble, in his wife's sun-bonnet, clappered his heelless slippers at +mid-day along the garden paths, in the vain hope of warming his laggard +blood to a brisker flow. Mrs. Dr. Simcoe was still harassed by those +snarling, ill-tempered brats, "Simcoe's children," who seemed +contagiously disposed to all the "ills which flesh is heir to," as if to +test the skill and try the patience of the lady M. D. + +One of the most brilliant moons that ever showered its silvery light +over a flower-covered earth, rode in the liquid zenith of a summer +heaven. The splendid grounds of Major Howard's princely mansion never +slept, in their luxuriant beauty, beneath a lovelier sky. Thick trailed +the heavy vines in their leafy exuberance of foliage over arbors and +green-houses. Whole parterres of brilliant flowers loaded the air with +fragrance, and nightingales sang among the boughs of the lindens that +waved against the wrought-iron palings of the terraces. + +Was there aught save the breath of love and peace abroad on the air +to-night? Dared a vile vulture of sin to brush with polluting wing over +the vines and flowers of these odor-breathing, beam-lighted gardens? + +There were low voices in one of the most obscure alcoves, and a man and +woman stood in close proximity in its dimmest recess. + +A low sigh or sob now and then escaped the woman, as though she +struggled to suppress some choking emotion. + +"Come," said the man at length, impatiently, "this blubbering will not +aid your purpose." + +"O, Herbert!" she exclaimed, in a tone which entreated compassion, "you +have ceased to love me." + +"Ceased to love you?" repeated he, with a low, ironical laugh, "I never +yet began." + +"You told me so," said she. + +"What if I did?" returned he; "is my veracity so immaculate that my +slightest word is received as an oath of probity? But I came not here to +keep a lover's tryst. You know, or at least I thought you knew, the bond +that unites us; and I ask you again if you will do my bidding and serve +my interests?" + +"I have done both," said the woman; "but you have not fulfilled your +promises to me." + +"Do you not see the boy when you choose?" + +"I see him, but he does not recognize me." + +"The better for you that he does not," returned the man. "Do you +suppose, with his position and prospects, he would acknowledge a low +serving-woman for a mother? He would kick her from his presence and +cover her with curses." + +"And do you never intend to tell him who is his mother?" asked the +woman, in a trembling tone. + +"Certainly not," answered he; "'tis not necessary the boy should know +his own disgrace; but when the proper moment arrives, there are those +who shall learn his parentage to their everlasting shame and +mortification." + +"I see no prospect of that moment's ever arriving," said the woman. +"Here's the girl and her father gone off, the Lord knows where, or +whether they will ever return, and all things left unfinished and +incomplete. I must say you manage as an idiot." + +"I will judge of my own management," said the man, fiercely. "There has +been sickness in my family, and other things have indisposed me to hurry +a revenge which will be the sweeter the longer 'tis delayed." + +"But it may be so long delayed as to fail altogether," suggested the +woman. + +"I'll take care of that," answered he. "I fancy I am not so great a +bungler as to overshoot my purposes and baffle my own designs; and, +woman," said he, raising his arm threateningly above her head, "I +caution you to beware. I believe you have already let drop some +unguarded words; else why is your mistress so averse to this engagement, +as I have learned she is, by the boy?" + +The woman was silent. He seized her arm fiercely. "Have you blabbed?" he +hissed in her ear. + +"No," answered she faintly, and struggling to free herself from his +grasp. + +"Has she no suspicions of my proximity?" he demanded. + +"None," returned the woman; "as I live she has none." + +"Then I would look on her a moment to-night." + +"That you can easily do," said she. "I left her sitting in a cushioned +seat, drawn close before an open casement, with the full moon shining on +her face." + +"A lucky position! I will show myself to her in a few minutes," he +remarked, as the twain parted. Hannah Doliver proceeded rapidly up the +garden avenue to the mansion, and hurried to the apartment of her +mistress. + +The invalid lady was sitting in the same position in which she had left +her an hour before. + +"You have been absent a long time, Hannah," she observed in a languid +tone. + +"I went as far as Col. Malcome's to learn if they had any recent +intelligence of Florence and her father," returned the woman, divesting +herself of bonnet and shawl. + +"Well, had he any tidings of them?" inquired the invalid. + +"At last accounts they were at Saratoga, intending in a few days to +start on a tour up the Hudson and St. Lawrence, to Quebec, and thence to +the mountain region of New Hampshire," answered the woman. + +"Florence wrote to me from Niagara," remarked the lady; "she seemed in +fine spirits. I wonder if she corresponds with Rufus Malcome?" + +"Of course," said Hannah; "a young lady would write to her affianced +husband, if she neglected all others." The invalid turned uneasily in +her chair at these words, and her waiting-woman went into an adjoining +apartment under pretence of performing some duty. + +The lady sat listlessly gazing on the lovely scene without, when a dark +object moving up the garden path attracted her notice, and directly the +figure of a man in black, with cap removed from a head of +closely-trimmed auburn hair that clustered in short, thick masses of +luxuriant curls around a high, pale brow, appeared before the casement, +and fixed a bold stare upon her face. No sooner did her eyes encounter +those that glared so fiercely upon her, than she uttered a piercing +shriek, and fell back in her chair with the appearance of one from whom +all life had departed. + +Hannah rushed into the room and bore the insensible form of her mistress +to the bed, where she commenced chafing her temples and pouring reviving +cordials down her throat. At length the frightened lady opened her eyes +and stared wildly around. + +"Secure that casement," said she, pointing to the still open window; +"and shut all the doors and lock them." + +"You will stifle without a breath of fresh air this oppressive night," +grumbled Hannah, as she proceeded to execute the orders of her mistress. + +"Better I should stifle," answered the excited and still trembling lady, +"than ever behold again the monster I have seen to-night." + +"Heavens! what do you mean?" exclaimed the attendant, appearing to +experience the greatest emotion. + +"I have seen _him_, Hannah Doliver," said the invalid, shuddering as she +spoke. + +"Who?" asked the hypocritical woman, breathlessly. + +"The destroyer of my happiness and your good fame," answered the lady. + +"Impossible!" said Hannah, glaring on the excited features of the +prostrate form before her. + +"I tell you I have seen him!" returned the invalid, shaking like an +aspen on her couch. "I cannot be mistaken. 'Twas his face; the high, +colorless brow, surrounded by thick, short auburn curls. He stood at +that casement, and gazed fiercely on me from his large, dark eyes." + +"Pshaw!" said Hannah, "'twas but a hideous dream, or a sudden attack of +apoplexy. The man you fancy you have seen to-night, has not been heard +of these fifteen years, and is probably in his grave." + +"Then it was his ghost that I saw," said the lady. + +"May be it was," returned Hannah, smiling strangely; "though I don't +know why it should have honored you with a visit. I am glad I was not +deemed worthy his ghostship's regards." + +The affrighted lady after a while grew calmer, and Hannah retired to her +own apartment, which joined that of her mistress. + +In a few days, a letter was despatched to Major Howard by the invalid, +informing him of the strange appearance which had alarmed her, and +urging his immediate return. + +The letter never reached its destination. + + + + + CHAPTER XXXI. + + "Ask why the holy starlight, or the blush + Of summer blossoms, or the balm that floats + From yonder lily like an angel's breath, + Is lavished on such men! God gives them all + For some high end; and thus the seeming waste + Of her rich soul--its starlight purity, + Its every feeling delicate as a flower, + Its tender trust, its generous confidence, + Its wondering disdain of littleness,-- + These, by the coarser sense of those around her + Uncomprehended, may not all be vain." + + +A jubilant party were assembled in Mrs. Leroy Edson's elegant parlors to +witness the marriage ceremony of Jenny Andrews and Richard Giblet. + +Even Mrs. Salsify, as one of the groom's former acquaintances, received +an invite to the bridal feast, and appeared in red morocco shoes and a +cap whose ruffles were the astonishment of the entire assembly. Mary +Madeline's squealing baby detained her at home, and perhaps, also, she +did not care to see her former lover, recreant and unfaithful though he +had been to her, take the solemn vow of eternal constancy to another. + +The party was more lively than wedding parties usually are. Mrs. Edson +was everywhere, gliding, like the spirit of grace and beauty, among her +guests, enlivening them by her humor, and spreading a rich glow of +geniality through the apartments. If she ever outshone herself, and +surpassed her own surpassing powers, it was to-night. Col. Malcome's +eyes followed her wherever she moved, with an undisguisable expression +of admiration. He seemed rather cast in the shade by her unwonted +brilliancy, and held himself aloof from her side for almost the entire +evening. + +Miss Martha Pinkerton noticed him sitting alone and abstracted on a +sofa, and her kind soul was moved with pity for his companionless +situation, so she resolved to cheer his solitude as well as she was +able. Approaching, she assumed a seat on the opposite side of the sofa. +She looked at him, hemmed, and coughed, but he did not seem to heed her +proximity. At length she resolved to speak. + +"Col. Malcome," she said, in her softest tone, "do you know you have +never called to take away the shirts you left for me to make more than +two years ago? I have often thought I would take them to you; but sister +Stanhope said I had better wait, as you would call when you wanted them. +I starched and ironed them all up nice for you; but I am sure the +stiffening is all out, and they are as yellow as saffron by this time." + +"Ay, Miss Pinkerton, you were very kind," answered he, bowing politely. +"I had forgot my call on your services entirely. I recollect now that I +contemplated a journey at that time, which circumstances prevented me +from undertaking, and that occasioned my forgetfulness of the package +probably. I will call soon and relieve you of it." + +"O, 'tis no burden," she answered; "I only thought I would speak to you +about it to let you know 'twas ready any time you might choose to call. +Don't you think the bride looks very beautiful?" she added, turning the +discourse to more elegant subjects now she had gained his ear. + +"Ay, quite interesting and pretty," answered he, turning his attention +for a moment toward the young couple who formed the centre of a mirthful +group. + +"Mrs. Edson seems to feel wonderful smart to-night," pursued Miss +Martha; "pleased with her success in match-making, I suppose." + +"Ah!" said the colonel, "does Mrs. Edson make matches? I wish she would +form one for me." + +The modest maiden blushed scarlet at these words, and remained silent. A +group was just passing, and the colonel effected his escape from his +fair companion and joined them. Several voices called for him at the +piano, and, seating himself before the instrument, he commenced a +brilliant performance. In a few moments he became conscious of the form +of Louise standing in the embrasure of a window near by, her whole soul +apparently absorbed in the music. When he arose she had disappeared. He +sauntered slowly to the hall door, and stepped forth upon the piazza. As +he paced slowly down its marble length he came suddenly upon her, +leaning languidly against a vine-covered column. + +"Why do you fly your guests?" asked he; "they will soon grow dim without +your presence." + +"Because I am weary and dispirited," answered Louise, "and want quiet +and fresh air." + +"Dispirited!" exclaimed he; "I have never seen you so startlingly +brilliant as to-night." + +She shook her bright head mournfully. The hilarious voices from the +merry groups within came full upon their ears. + +"Walk with me a few moments in the cool quiet of the garden," said he; +"here the air comes heavy and tainted from the crowded apartments +within." + +She placed her arm passively in his, and they passed down the steps and +entered the shady paths. + +"I marvel to find you so moody and glum," he remarked, after they had +proceeded some distance in perfect silence, "when you have been so +unusually gay through the evening." + +She made no answer. + +"Let us return to the house," said he at length. + +"What for?" she asked, turning her clear eyes quickly on his face. + +"Because you do not enjoy your company," he answered. + +"No, that is not the reason," said she; "'tis because you are weary of +my presence." + +"Weary of your presence!" repeated he. "Louise, you don't believe your +own words. May I stay here at your side till I wish to go away?" + +"Certainly," answered she. + +"Then let me put my arm around you," said he, encircling her waist, "and +lay your dear head here, and you are mine henceforth, for I shall never +leave you." + +For a moment her tearful face was hidden on his bosom. + +A low wailing wind swept through the shrubbery that surrounded them, and +one single word, thrilling and awful, as if it fell from the lips of an +accusing spirit, smote on their ears--'_Beware_!' + +Louise started from the arm that encircled her and fled toward the +lighted mansion. The party were still occupied in the merry dance, and +no one seemed to have marked her brief absence. + + + + + CHAPTER XXXII. + + ------"Ye mountains, + So varied and so terrible in beauty; + Here in your rugged majesty of rocks + And toppling trees that twine their roots with stone + In perpendicular places, where the foot + Of man would tremble could he reach them--yes, + Ye look eternal!" + + +Cloud-capped, sky-crowned, mist-mantled, storm-defying Mount Washington! +O, there have been days, and weeks, and months and years, when life's +legion woes pressed heavily upon our souls and bowed our spirits in the +dust; when we dared not glance toward the past, or contemplate the +present, and turned with shuddering dread from the future of starless, +impenetrable gloom; and in those doleful years, through long, long +nights of sleepless pain and agony we have prayed, entreated, implored +grim death to come and ease us of the thorny pangs that tore our +bleeding hearts like venomed arrows. But now on reverent knee we thank +the God of nature, that he has let us live to stand upon thy +sky-piercing summit and look down on the world below! Wild Switzerland +of America! thrice proud are we to call thy granite mountains ours, for +beneath thy snow-capped summits our young existence dawned, and thy +shrill winds and stormy blasts rolled forth the sleeping anthems that +lulled our infant slumbers. + +To this wild mountain region came Florence Howard, after luxuriating on +the picturesque Hudson, and dreaming herself in elysian realms among the +"thousand isles" of the queenly St. Lawrence. She was all life and +animation. The excitement of travel and vivid enjoyment of the beautiful +and sublime had banished every trace of the dejection and gloom which +had for many months obscured her brilliancy. Major Howard was delighted +with the improvement in his daughter's appearance, and seemed almost as +young and buoyant as she. Young Williams and his sister were their +constant companions in travel, and Florence found in Ellen a gentle +nature and affectionate heart. + +A storm set in on the night of our party's arrival at the Crawford +House, and heavy clouds settled down over the brows of the great +mountains that hemmed in the narrow valley. The hotel was thronged with +visitors, and the new comers had to accept of such accommodations as two +small rooms in the upper story could afford. + +"I declare," exclaimed Ellen, when the porters had brought in the +trunks, thrown back the fastenings, and retired, "after rackings, and +tossings, and tumblings enough to disjoint and unhinge a leviathan, to +what a comfortless haven are we arrived at last! O, for a tithe of the +luxury I rolled in at Niagara and Saratoga, or even one of the +state-rooms of the 'Hendrick Hudson' or 'Belle of the Waters!' They were +rooms of state indeed compared with these dismal little pens. How are we +going to turn round in them, Florence, much less unload our trunks of +their wardrobes and array ourselves for appearance in the parlors and +dining saloon?" + +"Dear me!" answered Florence, as she stood before the window, blowing +her benumbed fingers, "I don't think we shall have any occasion to open +our trunks, for there is not a frock in mine I could venture to put on, +unless I was willing to be frozen to death within the hour." + +"But what are we to do?" said Ellen, approaching the other window and +gazing forth on the dark, stormy evening, that was rapidly closing in +around them. Nothing could be seen beyond the small circle of the valley +in which the house stood, save dense clouds of fog and mist. The rain +poured like a second deluge, and terrific winds roared, and shrieked, +and bellowed like infuriate spirits of the rushing storm. + +"What geese we have made of ourselves, Florence!" resumed Ellen, after +she had gazed in silence a few moments on the gloomy prospect presented +to her eyes; "jamming into crowded, uncomfortable coaches, and bruising +and battering our flesh and bones to jelly, all to reach this wonderful +abode of grandeur and sublimity. What 'Alps on Alps' we expected would +tower before our astonished visions! But here we are, sunk in a dismal +abyss on the extreme northern verge of civilization, and never a +mountain to be seen, or anything else save great lowering clouds that +threaten to fall and crush us yet deeper into the earth." + +"If I could only get to see the mountains, I would not mind all the +discomfitures," said Florence, peering into the growing blackness +without. + +"I tell you there are no mountains," said Ellen, growing impatient in +her disappointment. + +"O, yes," returned Florence; "I think there must be a few somewhere in +the vicinity." + +"Then why can't we see them?" demanded Ellen. + +"They are hidden by the clouds, I suppose," said Florence. "I am told +Mount Washington is veiled in their fleecy mantles for weeks sometimes." + +"No doubt it will be thus obscured during our visit," said Ellen, quite +petulantly. + +A knock on the door here called their attention. Florence opened it, and +beheld her father, "Well, girls," said he, rubbing his hands, "what do +you think of the White Mountains?" + +"When we have seen them we shall be better prepared to give an opinion," +said Florence. + +"For my part, I don't believe in them at all," said Ellen quickly. + +Major Howard laughed heartily at this pertly announced conviction of the +non-existence of the wonderful summits they had come to behold, and said +he trusted, "when the storm was over, the elephants would show their +terrible heads." + +"But are not you half frozen?" asked he, his teeth chattering as he +spoke; "pray come down in the parlors; you will find them warm and +filled with guests." + +"We cannot go in our travelling garbs," said Ellen, "and there's no +opportunity here, as you see, to open our trunks." + +"Never mind your dark dresses," returned he; "you will not find the +gossamer fabrics that deck the belles of Saratoga in fashion here. The +fair creatures, however much in defiance of their wishes, are obliged to +conceal their white arms and shoulders in thick warm coverings." + +"We would be very glad to do so," said Florence; "but unfortunately our +wardrobes were prepared for a temperate, instead of a frigid zone." + +"Well, you will do very well as you are to-night; there are a score of +ladies just arrived, all round the parlor fires, in their travel-stained +garbs; so come on," said he, "and don't be bashful. You will hear the +conversation of those who have passed half the summer in this region, +and perhaps Ellen may come to believe in old Mount Washington." + +"I shall never believe in it till I have seen it with my own eyes," +returned the fair girl, as she and Florence, under the escort of Major +Howard, descended the flights of stairs to the parlor. + +As they entered, a hum of voices struck their ears from every side. +There was a group of ladies and gentlemen round the fire, and several of +them vacated their seats for the convenience of the new comers. A large +woman with a very red face remained in one corner and a young girl sat +by her side. + +"Have you just arrived?" asked the former of Florence; who was nearest +her. + +"Yes, madam," returned Florence, respectfully. + +"Well, it is a dismal time for strangers to make their advent, though +the largest arrivals most always occur on such nights as this," said the +fleshy woman, who had rather a pleasant manner, and would have been very +good-looking, Florence thought, but for the rough redness of her +complexion. + +"Are such storms frequent here?" inquired Ellen, in a dubious tone. + +"Not very," answered the portly lady. "I have been here six weeks, and +have not witnessed so severe a one hitherto. I think myself rather +unfortunate to have been exposed to its severity all day." + +Ellen and Florence looked surprised, and the lady continued: "Myself and +daughter joined a large party that ascended the mountains yesterday. We +had a tedious time. I lost my veil, and my face was frozen by exposure +to the biting blasts. The storm came on so furiously we were obliged to +send our horses back by the guides and remain all night." + +"What!" exclaimed Ellen, "remain all night on the top of a mountain +exposed to a storm like this! Why did you not all perish?" + +"O, we had shelter, and a good one!" returned the lady. + +"Where was it? In caves of rocks, or on cold, wet turfs beneath reeking +branches of lofty pines?" asked Ellen. + +"Not in caves," answered the lady, "and certainly not on grassy turfs, +or beneath trees of any variety; for old Mount Washington's bleak summit +cannot boast the one or the other." + +"What can it boast, then?" inquired Ellen; "wolves and catamounts, that, +together with its shrieking winds, make night hideous?" + +"Not wolves, or animals of any species," returned the lady, shaking her +head; "but of huge masses of granite boulders, gray and moss-grown, +heaped in gigantic piles, that eternally defy the blasts and storms of +the fiercest boreal winters." + +"O, what a grand thing it must be to stand on its summit!" exclaimed +Florence, with glistening eyes. + +"It is, indeed," said the lady, "though I have been pelted by the +merciless storm all day, which added fresh difficulties to the descent, +and still suffer much from my poor, frozen cheeks, I do not for a moment +regret my journey. I suppose you young ladies intend to ascend?" + +"I do," said Ellen. "If there is anything here worth seeing, I wish to +see it, after all the fatigue and trouble of getting here." + +"O, well," returned the lady, "I assure you there is enough to see. I +have been here, as I have already informed you, six weeks, and some new +wonder bursts upon me every day. You are a little disappointed from +having been so unfortunate as to arrive on this gloomy evening, when +even the nearest views are obscured by clouds. But the guides predict a +splendid day to-morrow. I am sure you will be delighted in the morning +when you rise and behold the great clouds rolling away their heavy +masses and revealing the broad, dark summits of the mountains that hem +in this grassy valley. I shall watch to see you dance into the breakfast +hall in buoyant spirits." + +With a pleasant good-evening the lady retired. Florence and Ellen soon +followed. In the upper space they met Major Howard and young Williams, +who were hastening to join them in the parlor. + +"Well, sis," said Edward, "Major Howard tells me you vote the White +Mountains all humbug." + +"I think Ellen is growing less sceptical," said Florence, "since she has +conversed with a lady who has just descended from their summits." + +"O, yes, Nell, there's a Mount Washington, sure as fate," returned +Edward, "and we must ascend its craggy steeps to-morrow; so retire, and +get a refreshing rest to be ready for the fatiguing excursion in the +morning." + + + + + CHAPTER XXXIII. + + "Come over the mountains to me, love, + Over to me--over to me; + My spirit is pining for thee, love, + Pining for thee--pining for thee!" + + SONG. + + +The sun rose bright above the mountains of the Crawford Notch on the +following morning, and illuminated with his brilliant rays all the green +valley below. Each member of the large party that proposed to ascend +Mount Washington was at an early hour mounted on a strong-built pony, +and led by a guide into the bridle-path which commenced in the woods at +the base of Mount Clinton. Our little band of travellers were foremost +in the file, Florence and Ellen in the greatest glee of laughter and +spirits. + +The whole ascent of Clinton was through a dense forest, over a rough, +uneven path, constructed of small, round timbers, called "corduroys." +They were in a rotted, dilapidated condition, and unpleasant as well as +dangerous to ride over. + +Emerging from the woods that covered Clinton, the surrounding mountains +began to appear; and from the grassy plain on the summit of Mount +Pleasant, a view was obtained which called forth rapturous shouts from +the whole company. + +The descent of Pleasant was tedious. All the ladies were obliged to +dismount, as the path was very rough, and often almost perpendicular +over precipitous rocks, while the frightful chasm that yawned far below +caused many of the adventurers to grow giddy and pale with fear. + +Ellen, who was rather timid, began to wish she had remained in the +valley, and continued to disbelieve in mountains; but Florence was all +exhilaration and eagerness to push onward. + +Mount Franklin towered next before them. As Florence, who was among the +foremost, reached its summit, she turned on her pony, and gazed down on +the little cavalcade, winding along up the narrow, precipitous path in +single file, with the guides hurrying from one bridle to another, as a +more difficult and dangerous place occurred in the rough way. And she +thought of Napoleon leading an army over the mighty Alps, and how +dauntless and sublime must be the soul of a man who could successfully +accomplish an enterprise so fraught with perilous hazard and +disheartening fatigue. + +As the little company wound their way over the unsheltered brow of Mount +Franklin, tremendous blasts swept down from the summits above, and +threatened to unseat them in their saddles, or hurl the whole party over +the fearful gulfs that yawned on every side. The guides collected the +band together and informed them half their journey was completed. Many a +face grew blank with dismay at this announcement. The weather wore a +less promising aspect than when they set out, and the winds pierced them +through and through. Several proposed to turn back. The guides said +there was about an even chance for the clouds to blow over or gather +into a storm, and the party could settle the point among themselves +whether they would turn back or go on. + +A gentleman, with features so muffled she could not discover them, rode +to the side of Florence, and said, in a voice she could barely +distinguish among the clamorous winds that howled over the mountain, "Do +you favor the project of returning tamely to the valley and leaving +Mount Washington a wonder unrevealed?" + +"No!" answered she, from beneath her thick veil; the muscles of her face +so stiffened with cold she could hardly move her lips. + +"Then ride your pony to the centre of these dissenting groups and +propose to move on," said he. "There are none in the party so +craven-souled as to shrink from what a lady dares encounter." + +Florence paused a moment, and then guided her pony into the midst of the +company. + +"Do you wish to join those who are going back, Miss?" said a guide, +taking hold of her bridle-rein. + +"No!" said she in a tone of decision. "I'll lead the way for those who +choose to follow to the summit of Mount Washington." + +"Bravo!"--"hurrah!"--"let us on!"--burst from all sides. Three solitary +ones, among them Ellen Williams, turned back, and the others formed into +file and moved onward. Down Mount Franklin and over the narrow path cut +in the cragged side of Monroe, where a single misstep would hurl the +horse and rider down a fathomless abyss, into whose depths the eye dares +hardly for a moment gaze. Then appeared a crystal lakelet, and a little +plain covered with a seedy-looking grass, where the horses rested and +refreshed themselves ere the last desperate trial of their strength and +endurance; for the weary band of adventurers had reached at last the +base of the mighty Washington, whose summit was veiled in heavy clouds. +As they loitered in the plain, the muffled gentleman again approached +Florence, and inquired if she was unattended. + +"No, sir," said she. "My father is among the party, also a friend; but +they are not yet come up." + +He lingered a moment, and then asked if she would like to dismount. + +As the voice met her ear more distinctly, it struck her it had a +familiar sound, and a sudden thought flashed across her mind. She +thanked him for his politeness, but said she was too cold to move. + +Her father and young Williams now appeared. "How do you brave it, +Florence?" said Major Howard, drawing in his breath with a shudder. + +"Very well, father," answered she. + +When the muffled gentleman heard the name Florence pronounced, he +started suddenly and darted a swift glance on the speaker. Then turning +away, he remounted his steed and rode into the front ranks of the line +that was forming. Soon the band commenced their toilsome ascent. The +path wound over perpendicularly-piled masses of gigantic granite +boulders. Often it seemed the poor tired animals, with their utmost +efforts, would never be able to surmount the prodigious rocks that +obstructed their way. Cold, blustering clouds of mists drove in the +faces of the forlorn little party as they labored up and up the +precipitous steeps, till it seemed to many a despairing heart that the +summit of that tremendous mountain would never, never be gained. So +densely hung the threatening clouds around them, they could not tell +their distance from the wished-for goal. At length the guides halloed to +the foremost rider to halt; and directly Florence felt herself in the +arms of a strong man, who sprang over the craggy rocks with surprising +agility, and soon placed her on the door-stone of a small habitation, +which was not only "founded on a rock," but surrounded on all sides by +huge piles of gray granite boulders. + +In a few moments the whole dripping, half-frozen party were landed +safely at the "Summit House," on the brow of Mount Washington. Great was +their joy to find a comfortable shelter where they might rest and warm +their chilled limbs; but great also was their dismay to find a storm +upon them, and nothing visible from the miraculous height they had +toiled to gain, but the wet rocks lying close beneath the small windows. + + + + + CHAPTER XXXIV. + + "But these recede. Above me are the Alps, + The palaces of Nature, whose vast walls + Have pinnacled in clouds their snowy scalps, + And throned Eternity in icy halls + Of cold sublimity, where forms and falls + The avalanche, the thunderbolt of snow! + All that expands the spirit, yet appals, + Gather around these summits, as to show + How earth may pierce to heaven, yet leave vain man below." + + CHILDE HAROLD. + + +A calm, beautiful morning succeeded a night of terrors. O, is there in +all the world a grander sight than sunrise on Mount Washington? + +The first faint rays breaking gradually through clouds of mist, and +dimly revealing the outlines of surrounding peaks; then long, bright +streams, piercing the gloomy depths of the valleys, chasing gigantic +shadows, like spirits of light contending with the legions of darkness; +and, at length, the whole immense sea of mountains brought into majestic +view, with their unnumbered abysmal valleys covered with forests of +every intermingled variety and shade of green. + +Florence Howard separated herself from the remaining portion of the +party, and stood alone on the topmost summit, leaning on the moss-grown +side of a granite boulder, gazing in rapt awe and wonder on the awful +sublimity that opened rapidly to her view. Thin, fringy clouds of mist, +white and silvery in the growing light, were flying over the dark sides +of the mountains, resting a moment in the valleys, and then +disappearing, as a dusky form approached the spot where Florence stood. + +"We meet again, Miss Howard;" said a voice at her side, low, and deep +with emotion. + +"And above the clouds, Edgar;" answered she, turning toward him, her +face radiant as an angel's in the intensity of the emotions which +overawed her soul. "Could we have met so well in any other place as +here, with earth and its turmoils all below, and only the free blue dome +of heaven above our head?" + +"Are you glad to have met me here?" asked he, gazing sadly on her +expressive features. + +"Can you ask?" said she. "And this is the only spot where I could have +rejoiced to meet you now, for here you will be Edgar to me, and may I +not be Florence to you?" she added, lifting her clear, liquid eyes with +beseeching earnestness to his face. + +He could not withstand this gentle appeal, this touching expression. +Softly his arm stole round her slender waist. She placed her little hand +lightly on his shoulder, and laid her head with confiding tenderness on +his bosom. + +O, what was Mount Washington in his glory then? What the whole boundless +prospect that spread its sublime immensity before them? Their eyes +looked only in each other's hearts, and they were warm--O, how warm with +love, and hope, and happiness! Mount Washington was cold. They felt a +pity for its great, insensate piles of granite, that loomed up there to +heaven, cold, bare and stony, void of power to feel and sympathize with +human emotions. Wandering to a sheltered nook among the rocks they sat +down together. + +An hour passed by, during which each member of the little party was +intently occupied with his own delighted observations, and then Major +Howard recollected the absence of his daughter, who had left his side, +saying she wished to contemplate the sublime spectacle apart from the +rest of the company. Gazing over the cragged summit, he beheld her +approaching with a gentleman at her side. + +"Ay, my little truant," said he, advancing to meet her. "So you tired of +your solitary contemplation, after all." + +"I found this fair lady roaming among the rocks, and ventured to escort +her to the party," said the gentleman, bowing politely, as he delivered +Florence to the care of her father. + +"Thank you, thank you, sir," returned Major Howard, casting a +scrutinizing glance toward the young man as he turned away. + +"My daughter, what do you think of this scene?" he asked, turning to +her. + +The glowing happiness, which lighted her features with almost +supernatural beauty, astonished him. + +"That I have never seen aught so awfully grand and majestic before," +returned she, in a tone of wild enthusiasm. + +"Does it surpass Niagara?" + +"Infinitely," answered she. "Niagara is grand, but it is a single, +solitary grandeur. Here, our vision encompasses a boundless expanse of +dread, terrific sublimities; a sea of towering Alpine summits on every +hand, with fearfully-yawning gulfs and chasms; tremendous precipices, +over whose dizzy edges, as we look down, and down, and down into the +abysmal depths of bright green valleys, starred over with tiny white +cottages, and graced with winding rivers and waving fields of grain, we +mark the dark straight lines of unnumbered railways, with their flying +trains of cars; countless sheets of water flashing like molten silver; +the spires and domes of numerous hamlets, villages, and cities; and, far +in the distance, the broad Atlantic's dark blue surface, jotted over +with white gleaming sails. O, father, father!" she exclaimed, almost +wild with her emotions of awe and admiration, "is there in all the world +a spectacle to equal that which feasts our vision now?" + +"It is a grand scene," said the father, participating in his daughter's +vivid enjoyment. "Look far on those blue summits that bound the prospect +to the west and north. Those singularly-formed peaks you notice are +called Camel's Rump and Mansfield mountains." + +"Would I might forever dwell here!" exclaimed Florence, her eyes roaming +in every direction, as though her soul could never drink its fill of the +sublimity around. + +Perhaps other delights than the scenery would afford rose in bright +anticipation, and caused her to utter this strange, wild wish. + +"You forget the awful winters, Florence, when you would perish beneath +the sky-piled snows," said her father. + +"O, I would not mind them!" she answered. "I'd have a little habitation, +hidden down among the rocks, where I could sit by a cosey fire and +listen to the billowy blasts that swept over my home in the clouds." + +"Alone, Florence?" asked her father. "Would you dwell alone in a place +so wild with terrors?" + +"O, no!" said she quickly. "I would have one companion." + +"And who should that be?" + +"The one I loved best on earth," replied she, turning her clear eyes on +her father's face. + +"And that is"----he paused, and added, interrogatively, "Rufus Malcome?" + +Florence started. Her features suddenly lost their glowing light, and +darkened into a contemptuous frown. + +"Don't breathe that name here!" she exclaimed, almost fiercely. "It is +not worthy to be spoken in the air of God's own taintless purity." + +Her father gazed with astonishment and pity. He had fancied the +repugnance and dislike she formerly evinced toward her affianced husband +was dissipated or forgotten in the multiplied excitements and varieties +of travel; and great was his regret and sorrow to find it still rankling +in her bosom. Both stood silent several moments, engaged in their own +thoughts and emotions. At length several voices exclaimed gleefully, +"The ponies, the ponies are coming!" + +Major Howard glanced downwards, and beheld the long line of riderless +horses, attended by the guides, slowly wending their way around the +shelving, precipitous side of Mount Monroe. The company collected +together and agreed to set out and meet them; so, returning to the hotel +among the rocks, they partook of a finely-prepared lunch, and, wrapping +warmly in shawls and blankets went forth on their hard, laborious way, +down the steep path of cragged rocks. Sometimes their feet lighted on a +sharp projection, or by a misstep they fell among the stony piles, +bruising and wrenching their flesh and bones. But, notwithstanding all +the fatigues and hardships of the way, the party were in jubilant +spirits. As the prospect narrowed with the descent, they were all taking +a last look at the disappearing wonders, and shouting their earnest +farewells. + +At the "Lake of the Clouds" they halted and drank of its cold, crystal +waters. The ponies were feeding on the plain, and the party gladly +mounted and commenced their long, toilsome descent. + +As the shades of evening were falling, their safe arrival in the valley +was hailed by assembled groups on the piazzas of the Crawford House. + + + + + CHAPTER XXXV. + + "Love thee! words have no meaning to my deep love; + It hath purged me from the weakness of my sex, + And made me new create in thee. Love thee! + I had not lived until I knew thee." + + +On arriving at the hotel, Florence retired to her room, which she found +vacant, and learned Ellen had joined a party on an excursion to Mount +Willard, one of the loftiest peaks of the Crawford Notch, to whose +summit there is a carriage road. + +She drew forth her journal, and, sitting down beside the window, +commenced to write. + +Nimbly the golden pen sped over the spotless page, leaving a train of +sprightly thoughts behind it, while the bright face glowed and sparkled +with the buoyant happiness of the soul within. + +"I feel like one just dropped from the clouds," she wrote, "and I should +be inconsolable at my sudden descent from the august abode of eternal +sublimities to the grovelling haunts of care and discontent, but that a +sun-soaring spirit companioned and illumined my fall. + +"I have stood above the clouds that swept the brows of lofty surrounding +mountains, and seen _that star of mine_ rise sweet and clear upon my +earnest vision, and felt my long-chilled heart grow warm and glad +beneath its beaming rays of light and love. I toiled up the miraculous +steeps of hoary-headed, granite-crowned Mount Washington, to realize a +double joy. The stern, gloomy grandeur was alone sufficient to awaken my +profoundest awe, my strongest admiration; but a warm heart-happiness +stole over me, which spread a mantling glory over all the thousand +dark-browed mountains that loomed in their awful majesty on every side. + +"And ever, till my heart has ceased to beat, though I should roam in +foreign lands, along the castled Rhine, or beneath the sunny skies of +classic Italy, Mount Washington will be to me the glory of the earth! +For, standing on its granite piles, while sunrise pierced the gloomy +valleys far below, a love nestled warmly to my bosom, with which I would +not part for India's wealth of gems. How rich am I in the knowledge of +Edgar's love! My soul is strong and firm as the mountains where my joy +was born. Shall I ever tremble or waver again? Am I not mailed in armor +to meet unshocked the battling swords and lances of life's armied +legions of cares and sorrows? With Edgar's love to nerve my soul, what +is there that I cannot endure? Surely, I could survive all things save +separation from him; and is not this the one which will be demanded of +my strength? + +"But I will not mar my happiness by dark forebodings of the future. Let +me enjoy the sunshine while it lasts. What shall I say to my +father?--what will he say to me when he learns who was the companion of +my lonely mountain stroll, and the rider at my bridle-rein during all +the long, dangerous descent? I fear he will be angry and hurry me away +immediately; and yet, with his discrimination, I think he must discern +the vast superiority of Edgar Lindenwood to that low-bred, mean-souled +Malcome. + +"But it is time this record should end, for twilight approaches, and the +shadows of the great mountains darken over the valley." + +She closed her journal just as Ellen Williams, returned from her +excursion, burst into the room. She flung her arms around Florence, and +covered her with frantic kisses. + +"O, I am so glad to have you safely back!" she exclaimed; "I feared I +should never behold you again. How did you live through a night like +last on that dreadful mountain-top?" + +"We had a comfortable shelter," said Florence, returning her friend's +warm embraces. + +"Did you wish you were down here in the valley, when the awful storm +overtook you?" + +"No, indeed," answered Florence; "my courage rose above all +difficulties. O, Ellen! you know not what you lost, when, chilled by the +blasts that swept Mount Franklin, you grew discouraged and turned back." + +"So Ned tells me," said Ellen; "but I saw sublimity enough from Mount +Willard to fill my little soul with rapture, though I had no +artist-companion at my side to point out the grandest views to my +untaught vision." + +Here she fixed an arch glance on Florence, who blushed slightly as she +said: + +"I do not understand your quizzical looks." + +"Probably not," returned Ellen, in a pleasant, bantering tone; "and if I +should tell you Mr. Lindenwood, the young artist of whom I spoke to you +at Niagara, had made his appearance in these regions, no doubt you would +express appropriate surprise at the information. However, your father +has been impressed with his appearance, and sought an introduction. I +saw them in the parlor but a moment since, engaged in conversation." + +"Is it possible?" said Florence, her eyes lighting with pleasure. + +"Why, very possible," returned Ellen, "and they seemed mutually pleased +with each other. Come, let us make ready and go down. I promised Ned to +return in five minutes." + +The young ladies descended to the parlor, where Florence beheld her +father standing before a table, with Edgar at his side, examining a +volume of engravings. + +She approached softly, when Major Howard turned, and introduced his +companion as "Mr. Lindenwood, a former acquaintance of hers, who was +visiting the mountains for the purpose of sketching views, and obtaining +geological specimens." + +Florence saw at once, by her father's words and manner, that he did not +suspect Edgar's identity with the muffled figure which had been her +companion on the mountains; and, bowing politely, expressed her +"pleasure at again meeting Mr. Lindenwood." + +Ellen and her brother joined them, and the evening passed in pleasant +rehearsals of the wonders and adventures of their late expedition to the +"realms of upper air." + +As Major Howard led his daughter to the door of her apartment, he +remarked: "That young Lindenwood is a fine fellow. I declare, I never +thought that wild hermit's boy would grow into a refined, polished +gentleman. You hardly recognized him, did you, Florence?" + +"He is very much changed in his appearance," said she, briefly. + +"Certainly he is," returned her father; "one seldom meets a handsomer +fellow. He tells me there is a great deal of fine scenery through a +place called the Franconia Notch. He is going there in a few days to +complete some sketches. I think we will join him: now we are here, we +may as well see all there is to be seen;--unless you wish to go home," +he added, finding his daughter silent in regard to the proposed +excursion. + +"I wish to go home?" exclaimed she, suddenly; "if you remain here till +that time comes, your head will be white as the snows of these northern +winters." + +Laughing at her enthusiasm for mountains, he kissed her cheek and +retired. + + + + + CHAPTER XXXVI. + + "Most wondrous vision! The broad earth hath not, + Through all her bounds, an object like to thee, + That travellers e'er recorded. Nor a spot + More fit to stir the poet's phantasy; + Grey Old Man of the Mountain, awfully + There, from thy wreath of clouds thou dost uprear + Those features grand,--the same eternally! + Lone dweller 'mid the hills! with gaze austere + Thou lookest down, methinks, on all below thee here." + + +At the Flume House, three weeks later, we find our little party of +travellers, all in apparently fine spirits and delighted enjoyment of +the wild, enchanting scenery of the Franconia Notch. + +"Well, Lindenwood, what do you intend to show us next?" asked Major +Howard, as the group disposed themselves on the sofas of their own +private parlor for an evening of rest and quiet, after a day passed in +visits to different objects in the vicinity. "I declare these mountains +will exhaust me entirely, and I shall be obliged to go away without +beholding one half of their alleged wonders." + +Young Williams laughed and said, "You are not half as good a traveller +as your daughter, major. Instead of looking worn and fatigued by her +repeated rambles, she seems more fresh and blooming than on our first +arrival." + +"Yes," returned the father, looking affectionately on his daughter, "she +thrives wonderfully on mountains. I recollect, when we stood on the +freezing summit of Washington, she expressed a wish to burrow among its +rocks and pass a life-time there, listening to the winds o' nights, and +other like charming diversions." + +"I did not think her disposition so solitary," remarked young Williams. + +"O, she was not going to dwell alone! She wanted one companion to share +her habitation. I don't know who it was,--perhaps you were the doomed +one!" + +"I dare not presume to think Miss Florence would select me for a doom so +blissful," returned he, gallantly. "Her choice would fall on some of my +more fortunate neighbors." + +"Rather say _un_fortunate," said Florence, coloring; "for in that light +I think most people would regard the prospect of a life passed amid the +clouds and storms of Mount Washington." + +"Would you thus regard it, Lindenwood?" inquired young Williams, turning +his gaze upon Edgar. + +"I don't know," returned the latter. "It might prove an agreeable +summer-home; but I think I would want to fly away on the approach of +winter." + +Major Howard drew forth his guide-book and occupied himself turning over +the pages a few moments. + +"We have achieved the Flume, the Pool, and the Basin to-day," said he at +length. "Say, Lindenwood, where shall we go to-morrow? You are the +pioneer of the band." + +"I have thought, should the day prove fine," answered he, "it would be +pleasant to make an excursion to the summit of Mount Lafayette, or the +'Great Haystack' mountain, as it is sometimes called, which lies several +miles west from this point." + +"More mountains towering before us! When shall we have done with them?" +said the major, in a lugubrious tone. "How high is this Haystack you +speak of?" + +"But seven hundred feet less than Mount Washington," answered Edgar. + +"O dear!" groaned the major. "Heaven save me from attempting the +ascension! Can we do nothing better than tear our clothes and bruise our +shins among brushwood and bridle-paths; clambering up to the sky just to +stare about us a few moments, and then tumbling down headlong, as it +were, to the valleys again?" + +"Well," said Edgar, "if the Great Haystack intimidates you, suppose we +ride up through the Notch, and visit the 'Old Man.'" + +"What old man?" asked the major. + +"The Old Man of the Mountain!" + +"I should have no objection to calling on the old fellow," returned +Major Howard, "if he did not live on a mountain; but I cannot think of +climbing up any more of these prodigious steeps,--even to see a king in +his regal palace." + +A burst of laughter followed the major's misapprehension of the object +which Lindenwood had proposed to visit. + +"It is not a man of flesh and blood we are to see, father," said +Florence, as soon as she could command her voice sufficiently to speak, +"but a granite profile, standing out from a peak of solid rock, exactly +resembling the features of a man's face; whence its name, 'Old Man of +the Mountain.'" + +"Ay, that's all, then!" said the major, referring to his guidebook. "I +shall be very glad of the privilege of standing on the ground for once +and looking up at an object; for I confess it afflicts my +kindly-affectioned nature to be forever looking down upon this goodly +earth, as if in disdainful contempt of its manifold beauties. So, +to-morrow, ladies and gentlemen," added he, rising, "we are to pay our +respects to this 'Old Man.' I hear music below. You young people would +like to join the merry groups, I suppose. I'm going down to the office +to enjoy a cigar, and then retire, for my old bones are sadly racked +with the jaunts of to-day. Good-night to you all." Thus saying, he +walked away. + +"Would you like to join the dancers, Ellen?" asked Florence, turning to +the fair girl who sat in a rocking-chair by the window, gazing out on +the moon-lit earth. + +"I don't care to join the dance," she returned; "but I would like to go +and listen to the music a while." + +"Then let us go," said her brother; "that is, if agreeable to Miss +Florence and Mr. Lindenwood." + +"I shall be happy to accompany you, Miss Howard," said he, offering +Florence his arm, which she accepted, and the party descended to the +parlors. They were well-lighted, and filled with guests. Edward and +Ellen soon became exhilarated by the music, and joined the cotillons. +Edgar looked in vain for a vacant sofa, and at length asked Florence if +she would not like to walk on the piazzas. She assented, and they went +forth. The evening was cool and delightful. A sweet young moon shed her +pale light o'er the scene, veiling the roughness of the surrounding +country, and heightening its romantic effect. + +"I think you are growing less cheerful every day," said he, gazing +tenderly on her downcast features. + +"Can you not divine the cause of my depression?" she asked, raising her +dark eyes to his face. + +"No," said he, smiling on her. "Won't you tell me?" + +"Father says we must return home soon," answered she, turning her face +away. + +"Is that an unpleasant prospect to you?" asked he, seeking to obtain a +glance at her averted face. + +"Yes," returned she; and he thought a shudder for a moment convulsed the +slender form at his side. + +They were both silent several moments, and then he remarked, "I intend +to visit Wimbledon in a few months; may I not hope to see you should I +do so?" + +"I presume my father will be happy to receive a visit from you," +answered she, in a formal tone. + +"But his daughter would rather be excused from my company, I am to +understand," said he. + +"O, no! not that," returned Florence quickly, turning her face suddenly +toward him, when he saw it was bathed in tears and marked with painful +emotion. + +"What distresses you, Florence?" asked he; gently taking her hand in +his. "Will you not tell me?" + +"I dare not, Edgar!" answered she, with fast-falling tears. "I have +wronged you, and you will not forgive me." + +"Then you do not love me!" said he, looking sadly on her countenance. + +"O, yes! I love you," she returned, in a tone of pathetic tenderness, +"Heaven knows, too wildly well! If that could atone for my fault, I +should not fear to give it expression." + +"It can!" said he, pressing her hand closely to his heart. "Believe me, +Florence, it can atone for everything." + +Encouraged by his tone and manner she spoke. "I am engaged"--he dropped +the hand and started back--"to Rufus Malcome," she concluded, and then +darting quickly into the hall, flew up stairs and locked herself into +her own apartment. She paced the floor hurriedly several minutes, and +then seized her journal,--always her confidant in moments of affliction. + +"I knew it would come to this at last," she wrote. "I have acknowledged +my error, and told him of my engagement with Rufus Malcome. It cost me a +struggle, but I knew he must learn it from some source e'er long, and +better from my lips than those of strangers. He will visit Wimbledon, +and then, O horrible thought! I shall be the bride of another; for +father tells me Col. Malcome is desirous the marriage should be +consummated the approaching winter. I got a long, foolish letter from +Rufus yesterday. O dear, how sick and sorry it made me! It is strange +mother never writes. Col. Malcome says she is not as well as when we +left, and this intelligence disposes father to hasten home. O, my poor +bleeding heart! How soon this little day of happiness has past." She +closed the book, and threw herself on the bed. After a while she fell +asleep, and was roused by Ellen, knocking for admittance. + +In the morning she met Edgar in the parlor with her father and young +Williams, the three in earnest conversation about their proposed +excursion to the Profile Mountain. He made her a distant bow. She +returned to her room, and not the most urgent entreaties of her father +could induce her to join the party. She pleaded a violent headache, and +Ellen announced her resolve to remain with her. She cared nothing about +the 'Old Man;' she would stay at home and nurse Florence. So the three +gentlemen departed together, and in a few days the Howards had left the +mountain region and set out for Wimbledon. + + + + + CHAPTER XXXVII. + + "Once more the sound + Of human voices echoes in our ears; + And some commotion dire hath roused + The female ranks. Let's pause and learn + The drift of all this wordy war of tongues." + + +Back to the Mumbles, the Wimbles and Pimbles, and their clamorous voices +again dinning in our ears. Will we ever be quit of them? + +As cold weather approached, and the atmospheric thermometer descended to +the freezing point, the philanthropic one mounted suddenly to blood +heat. + +Mrs. Pimble and Mrs. Lawson assumed their green legs and strode over +Wimbledon with pompous, majestic tread. The Woman's Rights Reform shook +off its sluggish torpor, and rose a mighty shape of masculine vigor, +strength and power. As in atonement for past sloth and inertness, the +reformists became more active in their several departments than ever +before. Lectures were delivered, clubs formed, and committees appointed +to visit the people from house to house, and stir them up by way of +remembrance, to engage in the great benevolent enterprises of the day. +At length an indignation meeting was announced to be held at the village +church in Wimbledon. The house was thronged at an early hour, and great +excitement pervaded the assembly, when the chairman and other officers +appeared and ascended the platform, which had been erected for their +convenience. It must be admitted that Dea. Allen, sitting in the glaring +light of the uncurtained windows, contemplated with rather wrathful +visage the ample green damask Bloomers, which adorned the lower limbs of +the several officiating ladies; but he quite forgot his anger when the +president sublimely arose, and, advancing to the front of the stand, +said in a loud, commanding tone: + +"We will now proceed with the business of this convention. If there is +any person in the house that wishes to pray, she, or he, can do so. We +hold to liberty and equal rights for all." + +She then stood in silence several moments, gazing over the assembly with +a self-possessed and confident air. But it appeared no person was moved +with a spirit of prayer. So the lady president, after a preparatory hem, +proceeded with the duties of her office. She, in a brief speech, +explained the reason for holding this meeting, and the object it had in +view. + +"I have spoken in public before," said she; "often has my voice been +raised against tyranny and oppression in all its forms; but never until +to-day has it been my happy privilege to address so large an assembly of +the inhabitants of my native village on the holy subjects of freedom and +philanthropy. It inspires my soul with fresh courage to behold your +eager faces, for they seem to say your minds are awakening to the +demands of the down-trodden portions of your race. We hold this +convention to arouse an interest in the cause of reform, which shall +lead to strong and energetic action. + +"It is too painfully true that Wimbledon is a sink of immorality, vice +and pollution, where moral turpitude stalks with giant strides, and +abominable barbarisms are practised under the glaring light of heaven. +(Sensation.) The object of this meeting is to crush the oppressor's +might, and raise his hapless victims to their proper position in +society. I call upon the women of this assembly to rise from the depths +of their degradation, rush boldly in the faces of their enslavers, and +assert their rights; and, having asserted, maintain them, even at the +point of the sword. (Sensation and murmurings.) A series of resolutions +will now be presented for the consideration of the convention." + +She turned to Mrs. Lawson, who sat majestically in a large arm-chair, +her strong arms folded on her broad chest, and whispered a few words in +her ear. While she was thus engaged, Mr. Salsify Mumbles rose, and said +in a loud tone: "Gentlemen and ladies, I rise for the purpose"---- On +hearing the sound of his voice, the lady president rushed to the edge of +the platform, and glaring on the upright figure, which shook like an +aspen beneath her fiery eyes, exclaimed, in thundering accents, "What +are you standing there for, you booby-faced, blubber-chopped baboon in +boots?" + +"I wish to speak," stammered the terrified man. He could utter no more. + +"_You_ speak!" said the lofty president, in a tone of the most supreme +contempt,--"sit down." + +The poor creature dropped as quick as though he had received a cannon +ball in his heart. + +Mrs. Pimble retired, and Mrs. Secretary Lawson arose, adjusted her green +spectacles, and, taking a roll of papers from the table, advanced to the +front of the stand. Elevating her brows, she said: + +"I will now read several resolutions which have been handed in since the +opening of the meeting. + +"First, Resolved, That the enfranchised women of Wimbledon use their +combined efforts for the liberation of their suffering sisterhood, who +yet groan beneath the despotic cruelties of the oppressor man." + +The secretary sat down. The president arose. "Are there any remarks to +be made on this resolution?" she said. + +None were forthcoming. + +"Then I move its adoption." + +"I second the motion," squealed a little voice from some remote corner. + +The secretary came forward. "All in favor of this resolution will please +say, ay." + +A score of voices were heard. + +"It is unanimously accepted," said she. "I will now proceed to the +reading of the second. + +"Resolved, That, as a means of humbling and destroying the tyranny which +the monster man exercises over the larger portion of the women of +Wimbledon, six of the usurpers be converted into lamp-posts, and placed +at the corners of the principal streets, with tin lanterns fixed upon +their heads, to light the cause of philanthropy in its midnight +struggles." (Sensation, and several brawny hands scratching uneasily at +the apex of their craniums.) + +The secretary sat down; the lady president arose. "This is a very +spirited as well as elegant resolve," said she, "and cannot fail of +securing universal approbation. Mrs. Secretary, you will please read the +remaining portion, and then all can be adopted by one joint action of +the house." + +"There are but two brief ones to follow," said the secretary, again +coming forward. + +"First, Resolved, That the tortuous channel of Wimbledon river be made +straight, and the tyrant man be compelled to perform the labor with +three-inch augers and pap-spoons. + +"Secondly, Resolved, That, the steeple of this church, which looms so +boldly impious toward the sky, be felled to the ground, and be converted +into a liberty-pole, with the cast-off petticoats of the enfranchised +women of Wimbledon flaunting proudly from its summit, as an emblem of +the downfall of man's bigotry and despotism, and the triumphant +elevation of woman to her proper sphere among the rulers of the earth." + +Great sensation as the lady secretary pronounced the foregoing resolves, +with strong impressiveness of tone and manner. As she retired, Dea. +Allen rose. The lady president sprang from her seat. + +"Sit down!" shrieked she, bringing her foot to the platform with a +violence that caused it to tremble. But the deacon did not drop at this +sharp command, as Mr. Mumbles had done. + +"I thought you held to liberty and equal rights," said he, with an air +of some boldness. + +"I do,--and therefore I tell you to sit down." + +"I will speak," said he, returning the defiant looks cast upon him by +both president and secretary; "for religion and right demand it. If you +dare profane with your sacrilegious hands the holy steeple of this house +of God, avenging justice will fall with crushing weight upon your guilty +heads." + +Having delivered himself of this dread prediction, the deacon sat down. + +In her loftiest style, Mrs. Pimble moved the adoption of the +resolutions, vouchsafing no word of comment on the impertinent +interruption. A brawling, discordant shout of "Ay--ay--ay," in every +possible variety of tones, from a swarm of boisterous boys and ranting +rowdies, was declared a unanimous approval, and in a storm of hisses and +hurrahs the indignation meeting triumphantly adjourned. + + + + + CHAPTER XXXVIII. + + "Fare thee well! and if forever, + Still forever, fare _thee well_, + Even though unforgiving, never + 'Gainst thee shall my heart rebel. + + Yet, O, yet thyself deceive not; + Love may sink by slow decay, + But by sudden wrench, believe not, + Hearts can thus be torn away. + Still thine own its life retaineth, + Still must mine, though bleeding, beat, + And the undying thought which paineth, + Is, that we no more may meet." + + +Sudden death had entered the home of Louise Edson and made her a widow. +Her husband died of cholera, in a distant city, whence he had gone for +the purchase of goods, and was brought home a corpse. Louise reeled to +earth beneath the sudden and unexpected blow. Her soul was lacerated by +constant memory of the wrong she had done him, and it seemed to her +aroused and trembling conscience that avenging Heaven had taken to +itself the man she had so deeply injured, and left her to grope darkly +on in her own wickedness and sin. True she had been cruelly disappointed, +and through long years compelled to struggle on in all the bitter +loneliness of feelings unreplied to, bound by indissoluble chains to one +who had no tastes or sympathies in common with her. Death had freed her +now, but, ah! too late. The taint of sin was on her soul. She had forgot +her vows at the altar, debased herself and wronged her husband by +listening to words of passion from another. O, far less bitter would +have been her grief, as she stood weeping over his lifeless form, could +she have laid her hand on the cold, damp brow and said, "I have loved +thee ever, and through life's cares and perplexities stood closely at +thy side to cheer and smooth thy pathway." But this she could not say. +She only felt that the soul had gone to God, to learn her falsity and +sin, and looked from the skies upon her with grief and avenging anger. +Bitterly she thought of the man who had led her from the path of +rectitude, and resolved to see him no more. As a self-inflicted penance, +she immured herself within the walls of her own mansion, and determined +to pass the remainder of her life in solitude. Many of her numerous +friends sought admittance to express sympathy and condolence in her +affliction, but she refused to see them and resisted all their +overtures. Only one person gained entrance to her seclusion. That was +Mrs. Stanhope, whose kind heart was deeply pained by the apparently +incurable sorrow that had settled on the mind of her young friend, and +strove, by every effort in her power, to lighten her woes and lead her +to more hopeful views of the future. + +"It grieves me," said she, "to see you, in the bloom of youth and +health, immure yourself in a living tomb, and refuse the consolations +you would receive from intercourse with your species." + +"I want no more of the world," answered the sufferer; "it has no +pleasure or enjoyment for me." + +"But, my dear, you should not allow your feelings to overpower your +better judgment," remonstrated Mrs. Stanhope. + +"Ah, my feelings!" said Louise, bitterly, with tears rolling over her +pale cheeks; "they have been my destruction. Had I always controlled +them, I had not been the miserable creature I am to-day." + +Mrs. Stanhope hardly understood this passionate outburst, but she still +strove to soothe and comfort her afflicted friend. + +"Your brow is hot and feverish," said she, rising to depart. "I caution +you to calm yourself and take some rest, or severe sickness will +prostrate you ere long." + +"And why should I fear sickness or death," asked Louise, in a hopeless +tone, "when the only calm for me is the calm of the grave, the only rest +its dreamless slumbers?" + +Mrs. Stanhope gazed on the suffering face with tearful pity, and turned +away. On opening the hall door, she encountered Col. Malcome, pacing to +and fro on the icy piazza. He started suddenly on beholding her, and +asked if she came from Mrs. Edson. Mrs. Stanhope answered affirmatively. + +"And how have you left her?" inquired he, with an expression of strong +anxiety and emotion on his features. + +"She seems deeply afflicted," returned Mrs. Stanhope. + +"Does she still persist in refusing to see her friends?" asked he. + +"She is thus disposed, I regret to say," was Mrs. Stanhope's reply. + +"Would you do me the favor to return, and entreat her to grant me a few +moments in her presence?" inquired he, in an earnest tone. + +"I will perform your request with pleasure," she said; "but I fear I +shall bring you naught but a gloomy refusal." Thus saying, she reëntered +the apartment of Louise. + +"I am come with a petition, Mrs. Edson," she remarked, approaching her +side, and laying a hand softly on the bowed head. "Will you grant it +your favor?" + +"I must hear it first," said Louise. + +"Col. Malcome is walking on the piazza; he wishes to see you." + +"Go and tell him, in another and a darker world I'll see him; never +again in this," answered Louise, starting to her feet, her whole frame +trembling with excitement and anger. + +Mrs. Stanhope was astonished and alarmed at her appearance, and stood +gazing on her in wondering silence. At length she said, "I cannot take a +message like that to him; he would think it the wild raving of a +lunatic." + +"Tell him, then, to go away, and never approach these doors again," said +Louise, suddenly bursting into tears. Mrs. Stanhope lingered in surprise +at her friend's emotion, and strove to soothe it. + +"Go," said Louise; "I command you to go, and send him away. I shall die +if I hear another of his footfalls on the piazza." + +Alarmed by the dreadful energy of her manner, Mrs. Stanhope hurried +away. The colonel came eagerly to her side, as she stepped forth. + +"Does she refuse me?" he asked. + +"She does," said Mrs. Stanhope. + +"And does she give no encouragement that I may gain admittance at some +future time?" + +"None." + +"Then carry this to her," said he, placing a small, folded letter in +Mrs. Stanhope's hand, and turning dejectedly away. + +Again she entered the mansion. Louise sat with head bowed between her +hands, and did not raise her eyes. Mrs. Stanhope laid the missive on the +table beside her, and silently left the apartment. + +Twilight deepened into evening, and still the suffering woman sat there, +in mute, unutterable agony. A servant entering with lights at length +aroused her to consciousness, and her eye fell on the folded letter +lying on the stand. Hastily tearing away the envelope, she dropped on +her knees, and ran over its contents with devouring eagerness, while her +features worked with strong, conflicting emotions, and tears rolled +continually from her beautiful eyes and blistered the written page. "Why +do you drive me from you?" it began. "If, in an unguarded moment, under +the intoxicating influences which your bewitching presence, the quiet +seclusion of the spot, and romantic hush and stillness of the hour threw +around me, all combining to lap my soul in delicious forgetfulness of +everything beyond the momentary bliss of having you at my side, I +suffered words to escape my lips, which should have remained concealed +in my own bosom, you might at least let the deep, overpowering love +which forced their utterance, plead as some extenuation for my +presumption and error. But it seems you have cast me from you +forever--unpitied--unforgiven. O, Louise! I did not think you so +implacable. The sin is mine, and I would come on bended knee to implore +pardon for the suffering and sorrow my rashness has brought to your +innocent heart; but you fly from my approach, and banish me from your +presence. No mercy for one, who, though he may have erred, is surely +atoning for his errors by anguish as deep, as poignant as your own. +Night after night I walk the piazza beneath your windows. I know you +hear my step and feel that I am near. But you will not open the casement +and let me for a moment behold your features and crave your forgiveness. +O, Louise, am I to die without a pitying word or look from you? + +"I sit by my Edith's bed-side through long, weary midnight hours, and +she wakes from her fitful slumbers and asks for you. 'Why does she never +come to see me now? There's no arm raises me so lightly, no hand bathes +my brow so gently, as hers. Will you not bring her, father?' + +"O, what agony these words inflict! I have to feel my own rashness and +folly have deprived my sick child of a tender nurse. Louise, do you not +remember one dear, bright morning, long ago, when I was sitting at the +piano in that pleasant parlor I'm forbidden to enter now, and you stood +beside me in all your bewildering grace and beauty, that I sought from +you a promise which was given? Still, still would I conjure you, as +Steerforth said to David, _think of me at my best_. You will need to do +it soon; for your contempt and scorn are hurrying me on to deeds of +crime and wickedness. O, will you drive me to the wretch's doom, or win +me to a life of happiness and virtue? It is yours to decide." + +Such were the contents of the letter which remained clenched in the +grasp of the agitated woman through the long hours of that woe-fraught +night. When the first gray tints of dawn were visible, she started and +hid it away in her bosom. Grasping a pen she traced a few lines with +trembling hand, and placed them in an envelope directed to Mrs. +Stanhope. Then unclosing her wardrobe, she selected a few articles of +clothing, made them into a small bundle, and wrapping a heavy shawl +round her slender form, and concealing her features in a large black +bonnet with a long, thick veil, she opened softly the hall door, and +stole forth into the cold, biting air, walking hurriedly over the frosty +paths till she had gained the lonesome country road beyond the village. + +As Mrs. Stanhope was sitting down to breakfast, a knock called her to +the door, where she beheld Mrs. Edson's servant, who presented her with +a letter, and said her mistress had gone away very suddenly, and she +would like to know if she had left any word as to when she would return. + +Mrs. Stanhope broke the seal, and read with surprise and astonishment +depicted on her features. The girl stood waiting to learn its contents. + +"I think," said Mrs. Stanhope, suddenly recollecting herself, "that your +mistress will be absent some time. She informs me she has gone on a +visit to the aunt with whom she resided previous to her marriage." + +"Where does her aunt live?" asked the girl. + +"I do not know," returned Mrs. Stanhope, "but I think at a considerable +distance from this place." + +The girl retired, and Mrs. Stanhope reëntered the breakfast room. + +"Who was in the porch?" inquired Miss Pinkerton, as her sister assumed +her place by the coffee urn. + +"Mrs. Edson's servant," returned she, arranging the cups with an absent +air. + +"What did she want?" asked Miss Martha, opening her muffin and dropping +a piece of golden butter on its smoking surface. + +"She brought me a note from her mistress," said Mrs. Stanhope, "who has +departed suddenly on a visit to her aunt, and wishes me to superintend +the care of her mansion for a time." + +"I guess she is coming out of her dumps," said Martha. "I always said +there was no danger of her dying of grief for the loss of a husband. +She'll come home one of these days a gay widow, and set her cap for Col. +Malcome. I always thought she had a liking for him." + +Mrs. Stanhope made no reply to this unfeeling speech. After breakfast +the colonel chanced in to take the long-forgotten package away, when he +learned of Louise's sudden departure, and went home in a state of +increased anguish and despair. + + + + + CHAPTER XXXIX. + + "To the old forest home + I hie me again; + But I bring not the gladness + My spirit knew when + I roamed in my childhood + Its wide-spreading bounds; + For sorrows have pierced me, + My soul wears the wounds." + + +The Hermit of the Cedars sat in his antique room alone, by a peat-wood +fire. He appeared wrapt in moody thought and contemplation, though ever +and anon, as the wintry blast gave a wilder sweep over the swaying roof +above him, he turned and glanced uneasily toward the door, as though he +wished and waited the appearance of some form over its threshold. But +the hours passed on, and no one came to cheer his loneliness. So, +heaping the ashes over the glowing embers, he betook himself to his +lowly couch, but his head had hardly touched the pillow when a quick +step crackling along the icy path struck his ear. Ere he could reach the +door it was pushed open, and a voice called out hastily, "Uncle Ralph!" + +"Edgar, my boy!" exclaimed the hermit, groping in the darkness to clasp +him in his arms. "Are you returned at last?" + +"Yes, dear uncle," answered the young man; "I reached the village by the +evening stage, and hurried with all speed to my old forest home." + +The hermit lighted a candle and raked open the coals. A bright fire soon +burned on the hearth, and by its ruddy blaze the fond uncle marked the +changes two years had wrought in the appearance of his nephew. He was +taller, and a manly confidence of tone and manner had succeeded the +reserve and timidity which characterized his boyhood. The luxuriant +masses of soft brown hair were brushed away from the clear, pale brow, +and the deep blue eyes glowed in the conscious light of genius and +intellectual fervor. The hermit gazed with ardent admiration on the +commanding elegance and beauty of the form before him. + +"Education and travel have made a wonderful improvement in your +appearance, my boy," he remarked at length, his voice trembling with +emotion as he spoke. "Still I don't know but I liked you better as the +curly-headed boy in morocco cap and little blue frock-coat, that used to +come bounding over the forest path, with his satchel in hand; or set +here of long winter evenings, reading some treasured volume at my side; +or perched within the window nook gazing silently upward at the +glistening stars;--for the dreamy boy I could keep near me, but the +lofty, ambitious man I cannot hope to prison here in a solitary +wilderness,--nor should I indulge in a wish so selfish," he added. "Tell +me, Edgar, of your travels, your enjoyments and occupations, since you +departed from this lowly roof." + +The young man gave a brief rehearsal of the principal events of the past +two years. He hesitated somewhat when he came to his meeting and renewal +of acquaintance with Florence Howard, recollecting his uncle's former +aversion to their intercourse. He might have passed over it in silence, +but his delicate sense of honor would not allow him to deceive in the +smallest point the heart that loved him so devotedly. The listening man +bent earnest, scrutinizing glances on the speaker's face as he proceeded +with his tale, and when it was finished, bowed his gray head on his thin +hands, as was his wont when engaged in deep thought, and remained +silent. + +At length a tremendous blast swept through the forest, blew open the +door, and scattered the coals from the deep fire-place over the floor of +the apartment. The moody man started from his reverie. Edgar secured the +door, and, taking a broom composed of small sprigs of hemlock and cedar, +brushed the scattered embers into a pile. + +"Do you not wish to retire?" asked the hermit, as the young man resumed +his seat in the corner. + +"As you wish, uncle," returned he; "I do not feel much fatigued." + +"Ay, but I think you are so," said the kind-hearted man, regarding +attentively his nephew's features. "My joy at beholding you has rendered +me forgetful of your physical comforts. Let me get you some refreshment, +and then you shall lie down and rest your weary limbs." + +The hermit took a small brown earthen jug from a rude shelf over the +fire-place, and, pouring a portion of its contents into a bright-faced +pewter basin, placed it on a heap of glowing coals. Then going to a +cupboard he brought forth a large wooden bowl, filled with a coarse, +white substance. When the contents of the basin were warm he placed it +on the table, and setting a chair, said, "Come, my boy, and partake of +this simple food. 'Tis all I have to offer you; not like the dainty +repasts at which you are accustomed to sit in the abodes of wealth and +fashion." + +Edgar approached and took the proffered seat. + +"Ay," said he; "you have served me a dish more grateful to my palate +than the most delicately-prepared dainties would prove. This rich, sweet +milk is delicious, and who boils your hominy so nicely, uncle?" he +continued, conveying several slices of the substance in the wooden bowl +to his basin. + +"Dilly Danforth, the poor village washerwoman, cooks it, and her boy, +Willie, brings it to me," answered the hermit. + +"Ay, the lad you mentioned in one of your letters," said Edgar. "Why +does he not remain with you altogether? You seemed happy in his +companionship, and I hoped he might become to you a second Edgar." + +A strange expression passed over the face of the recluse as his nephew, +with much earnest truthfulness of manner, gave utterance to these words. + +"I did like to have the boy with me," he remarked; "but his mother was +lonely without him." + +Edgar rose from his simple repast. + +"Now you had better retire," said his uncle, tenderly; "though I fear +you will rest but ill on my hard couch." + +"My slumbers will be sweet as though I reposed on eider down," returned +he, "if you will but assure me that my coming or words have not marred +your quiet and composure." + +"My boy," said the hermit, gazing on him anxiously, "what do you mean? +How should the arrival of one I have so longed to behold give aught but +joy to my lonely soul?" + +"I may have spoken words that grieved you," said the young man, +sorrowfully; "but I could not bear to conceal the truth from you, dear +uncle;" and his voice trembled as he spoke. + +"Edgar," returned the hermit, with emotion, "I am grateful for your +confidence, and though I could have wished your heart's affections +bestowed on some other woman, I will no longer oppose your inclinations. +Marry Florence Howard if you choose." + +"Marry her!" exclaimed Edgar, suddenly breaking in upon his uncle's +discourse. "She is engaged to another." + +"What is his name?" asked the hermit. + +"Rufus Malcome," returned the young man. + +"What! a brother to the girl I saw with you on the river bank?" inquired +the recluse, with a sudden excitement of manner. + +"Yes," said Edgar; "the brother of Edith Malcome." + +"O, the mysterious workings of fate!" exclaimed the hermit, falling +again into a ruminating silence, which Edgar did not deem it wise to +disturb. + +So they laid down on the lowly couch, and the young man, fatigued with +his journeyings, drew the coverings over his head to exclude the shrill +shriekings of the sweeping blasts, and soon rested quietly in the sweet +forgetfulness of sleep. + +Sleep! angel ministrant to the grief-stricken soul. How many that walk +this verdant earth would fain lie locked in her slumberous arms forever! + + + + + CHAPTER XL. + + "No voice hath breathed upon mine ear + Thy name since last we met; + No sound disturbed the silence drear, + Where sleep entombed from year to year, + Thy memory, my regret." + + +In her own elegantly appointed apartment sat Florence Howard, with her +journal open upon the table. + +"Beneath the old roof-tree of home once more," she wrote, "to find my +mother's pale face yet paler than when I left her, and a sudden tremor +and nervousness betrayed on the slightest unusual sound, which is +exceeding painful to witness. + +"Hannah's penchant for me seems to have decreased somewhat, since father +waited on Col. Malcome and asked his consent to the delay of my proposed +nuptials with Rufus, till some change should occur in mother's health. +Dr. Potipher thinks she will hardly survive the trying weather of the +approaching spring. + +"Poor, dear mother! what shall I do without her? But I may not linger +long behind. + +"I used to think I was very miserable, when I pined in ignorance of +Edgar's love, and grew jealous of his attentions to gentle Edith +Malcome; but what were those petty griefs, compared with the agony of +having known the sweet possession of his heart, and lost it,--lost it, +too, through my own selfish folly and weakness? Truly, there's naught so +bitter as self-reproach. Heaven only knows what I have suffered since +that dreadful night, when I fled from his angry, reproachful looks, and +locked myself in the solitude of my chamber. And that freezing, distant +recognition on the following morning! O, what a shuddering horror will +ever creep over me with the memory of Franconia Notch! And Mount +Washington,--which was for aye to tower above all other scenes of +grandeur earth's broadest extent could afford,--a thought of it unnerves +my soul with grief. What short-sighted mortals are we! + +"I think my father suspects my secret and reproaches himself for giving +me so free access to Edgar's company. I would not wonder if the delay he +has urged to my marriage were influenced as much by this sad knowledge +as my mother's failing health. Col. Malcome gave a reluctant assent, at +which I am surprised. When his sweet daughter is sinking slowly into +the grave, 'tis strange he can think of any earthly interest. + +"I have looked mournfully toward the cedar forest to-night, and thought +of the poor lone hermit in his humble hut, and wished, O, how fervently +wished! that I, like him, had a habitation afar from the world's hollow +throngs, where I could sit and brood in solitude over my broken heart! + +"Am I not a living, breathing, suffering example of the truth of Byron's +eloquent words? + + 'The day drags on, though storms keep out the sun, + And thus the heart will break, yet brokenly live on.'" + +Florence closed her journal, and approached the window. + +As she was dropping the curtain to retire, a dark figure moving +stealthily under the leafless branches of the lindens, which stood in +rows on the least public side of the house, arrested her attention. The +remembrance of a similar appearance she had once seen crossed her mind, +and no ill having followed that, she dismissed her fears, and ere long +sank to rest. + +When the village clock pealed forth the hour of midnight, the dark +figure she had observed, stood on the terrace below. The hall door swung +noiselessly on its hinges, and Hannah Doliver stepped forth. "Here are +the matches and kindling-wood," said she in a whisper, approaching the +dusky form, and holding a small basket forward. + +"Are they all asleep?" asked a hushed voice. + +"Yes," answered she. + +"See that you give the alarm in season," returned the muffled figure, as +he took the basket from the woman's hand, and passed softly down the +steps of the piazza. + +Silently the destroying fires were lighted. But the midnight incendiary +would have proceeded less deliberately with his work of destruction, had +he marked the tall, lank figure in a long, dark overcoat, and +slouching-brimmed hat, which slowly dogged closely his every footstep. +Suddenly a bright flash leaped up from the fragments the wicked man +sought to enkindle, and revealed his garb and features. A mingled +expression of hatred and revenge glared from the sunken eyes of his +follower, who stood in the shadow of a linden near by, as the pale, +handsome features and light, curling locks of the incendiary met his +gaze. + +"Villain!" exclaimed he, springing forward, as the man turned with a +hurried step from his work of destruction; "would you burn innocent +people in their beds?" + +With one fell blow the man dashed the lank form to the earth, and fled +down the avenue of cedars, which led to the river, never heeding the +startled looks of a thin woman, and tall, graceful youth, against whose +sides he brushed in his guilty flight. + +"Who could that flying figure have been?" asked the lad of the woman, +when the man had rushed past. + +"I don't know, indeed, Willie," answered she, "unless it was your +friend, the hermit, gone wild. You say he has been more gloomy than +usual for several days." + +"O, no!" returned the youth; "it was not the hermit. I distinguished +this man's features very plainly as he passed, and it was no one I ever +saw before. He had no covering on his head, and his hair was light and +curly. His face seemed glowing with rage and anger." + +"It must have been some lunatic escaped from the asylum," said the +woman. + +"Well, I think you are right, mother," answered the boy. "I hope he has +not harmed the poor hermit, whom I left sitting on a stone among the +cedars, near Major Howard's mansion. He came thus far with me to-night, +as it was so late, and the way long and gloomy." + +"Ah! he was very kind," remarked the woman. "I began to fear you were +not coming for me, Willie, and thought I should have to remain at Mr. +Pimble's all night, or go home alone. Is the hermit's nephew still with +him?" + +"No, he went away this morning, and the poor old man is very lonely and +sad. He said he wished I could be with him all the time." + +"Strange being!" said the woman. "Why does he not leave the forest, and +dwell among his fellow-men?" + +"I think it is because he experienced some disappointment in his youth," +answered the lad, "and has come to distrust all his species." + +"It may be so," returned the woman. "I have heard of such instances. He +is very kind to you, my boy, and but for his little bundles of sticks, I +think we must have perished during your long illness through that +piercing cold winter. Strange are the realities of life; stranger than +fiction! When the rich Mr. Pimble drove me from his threshold, the poor +hermit of the forest braved the bleak storms, and laid the charitable +piles on my poverty-stricken threshold." + +The mother and son had now reached their humble abode. + +"Willie," said she, "I wish you would run down by the river and gather +up the few pieces of linen I washed and spread out there yesterday. The +wind is rising fast, and they will blow away before morning." + +The boy hastened to perform her request, and in a few moments came +rushing into the house, and exclaimed: + +"Mother! mother! Major Howard's house is all on fire! I am going up +there," and, flinging the pieces he held in his arms on the table, he +flew off toward the burning mansion. + +Mrs. Danforth followed him to the door and discovered his words were but +too true. Long tongues of flame darted upward to the sky, and ran +fiercely over the walls and terraces of the mansion. The church bell was +pealing madly to rouse the slumbering people to the rescue; but the fire +gained so rapidly in the sweeping wind, all efforts to quench it could +not prove otherwise than futile. To save the lives of the inmates would +be the utmost which could be done, and even this seemed a perilous +undertaking. + +Willie Danforth was rushing up the avenue of cedars, when, just as he +was entering the grounds of the burning mansion, he stumbled over some +large object which obstructed the path. It moved beneath, and, by the +glare of the flames, he discovered the body of his friend, the hermit, +lying at full length upon the frozen ground. The prostrate man opened +his eyes and recognized Willie. + +"O, my good boy, I am sadly hurt!" said he, feebly. "Will you help me to +rise and get away from this place?" + +Willie, who forgot everything, even the burning mansion before him, in +care and pity for his friend, raised him to his feet, and half +supporting the tall, thin form in his young, strong arms, drew him down +the long avenue and along the river bank to his mother's dwelling. + +And that night the insensible form of the Hermit of the Cedars lay +stretched upon the low couch of Dilly Danforth's humble abode. + + + + + CHAPTER XLI. + + "There are so many signs of wickedness + Around me, that my soul is pressed with fear. + O, that the power divine would kindly aid + Me in my need, and save me from the wiles + And artful plottings of this wicked man! + For though he speaks so soft, and smiles so fair, + I've seen at times a strange look in his eye + Which doth convince me that his soul is black within." + + +Col. Malcome flung wide the doors of his elegant mansion to receive the +suffering family who, in the space of a few short hours, had lost their +all of earthly wealth by the subtle element of fire. The invalided Mrs. +Howard was borne on a litter to an apartment so warm and complete in its +arrangements, as to almost wear the appearance of having been fitted up +expressly to receive her in her forlorn and unsheltered condition. +Large, richly-furnished rooms, all glowing bright in their luxurious +comforts, were also in readiness for Florence and her father. The latter +was nearly overwhelmed with grief and dismay at his sudden and +irremediable loss. Col. Malcome strove by every means in his power to +assuage and lighten his sorrows. + +"My house is your home as long as you choose to make it so, Major +Howard," said he one morning after the afflicted family had been several +weeks partakers of his generous hospitality. + +"I cannot consent to burden you with my family any longer than while I +can find some place to which I can remove them," answered he. "And then +I must engage in some kind of business to provide for their support. +This unfortunate accident has given my wife so dreadful a shock, I fear +she will not long survive it." + +A significant smile appeared for a moment on Col. Malcome's features at +these latter words, but he concealed it from the distressed man, and +replied, "It grieves me to hear you talk thus. Why should you regard +your family as burdensome guests beneath my roof, when we are soon to be +linked in the ties of relationship by the union of our children?" + +"True!" returned Major Howard. "Such a union has been proposed, but----" + +"But what?" asked Col. M. + +"You may not look as favorably on its consummation now as formerly." + +"Judge not so meanly of me, my friend!" said he, warmly. "Your +daughter's rich soul and personal charms are all the wealth I desire in +the lady who shall become the wife of my son." + +Major Howard was silent. + +"I do not wish to hasten this marriage," resumed the colonel, "because +you expressed a desire, several months ago, that it should be delayed +till a change occurred in your wife's situation (a strange emphasis on +the word _wife_); but were it consummated, your family could occupy +one-half of my mansion with no expense to me till Rufus should rebuild +the one you have recently lost by fire." + +Major Howard's face suddenly brightened. The colonel saw he had made a +hit, and followed up his advantage so adroitly that e'er the twain +parted, the father had consented that the marriage between his daughter +and the colonel's son should take place within four weeks. He sought his +daughter and communicated the intelligence. Florence received it in +silence. She felt they were without a home in the wide world, and at the +mercy of the man under whose roof they were sheltered. A strange horror +was seizing upon her soul and bowing her spirits to the earth. There +were many looks and glances around her she could not understand; but +they seemed possessed of some dark and hidden meaning. Hannah Doliver's +glee knew no bounds. She followed Rufus from morning till night, and +appeared uneasy if he was a moment beyond her sight. The young man +returned her fondness with hatred and contempt. Edith, with her pale, +wan face and sunken eyes, looked the mere shadow of her former self. +During her long illness, her beautiful head had been shorn of its ripply +wealth of auburn curls, and, as she lay languidly on the soft cushions +of her luxuriant couch, few would have recognized in that wasted form +the once radiant Edith Malcome. She had a feverishness and uncertainty +of temper common to long-confined invalids. Florence could find little +companionship in her society; besides, she was too weak to endure the +excitement of laughter and conversation. + +Rufus sought his affianced bride at every opportunity; and the only +place where she could rest secure from his interruptions was the +apartment of her mother, where he never ventured to intrude, being +possessed of a strange fear and dread of sick people. He never visited +Edith, unless compelled to do so by his father. + +Florence was one day sitting in the deep recess of one of the +drawing-room windows, with the massy folds of purple damask drooped +before her, occupied in the perusal of a book of poems, when a +succession of low, murmuring sounds near by, disturbed her, and +listening a moment she heard Col. Malcome say, in a smothered tone, +"There's no fear of detection; all moves on bravely, and we shall have a +blooming young bride here in a few weeks." + +Then there was a low, chuckling laugh, which Florence recognized as +Hannah Doliver's. After a while the woman spoke in a stifled voice, +"Don't you want to see _her_?" she said. "I should think you would." +There was a slight malice in her tone, which appeared to irritate him +somewhat. + +"I can wait very well till the ceremony is performed," he answered at +length. "Of course, she will appear at the marriage of her daughter." A +strange emphasis on the last word. + +"But come," he added directly, "we must not linger here. Some of the +family may observe us." + +Thus speaking, they passed out of the apartment, relieving Florence of +the fear with which she had been shaking during their whole conversation +lest they should discover her retreat in the window. + +When they were gone, she clasped her hands, and exclaimed in a low, but +fervent tone, "Will no arm save me from the power into which I have +fallen?" + +For several days she sought an opportunity to speak privately with her +father, but his attention was so incessantly occupied by Col. Malcome, +that none presented. + +When at last she gained his ear, he laughed her suspicions to scorn, and +bade her never come to him with such an idle tale again. + +The good-natured major was infatuated by, what he termed, the munificent +magnanimity of Col. Malcome, and, moreover, had been nurtured in +luxurious tastes, and the prospect of reïnstating himself in an elegant +home by so easy a process as the marriage of his daughter, was too +desirable to be allowed to vanish lightly away. + + + + + CHAPTER XLII. + + "And they dare blame her! they whose every thought + Look, utterance, act, hath more of evil in 't + Than e'er she dreamed of or could understand, + And she must blush before them, with a heart + Whose lightest throb is worth their all of life!" + + +In a neat, but scantily furnished apartment of a small, white cottage +sat Louise Edson beside the low window which looked forth on a great +frowning building with grated bars and ponderous iron doors. + +"Is this a prison across the yard, aunt?" she asked of a tall, solemn +woman, in a black head-dress, who had just entered the room, and stood +laying some fresh fuel on the fire. + +"It is the county jail," replied she. + +"How it makes me shudder to look at it!" said Louise, turning from the +window, and assuming a chair near her aunt, who was taking a quantity of +sewing from a work-basket. + +"It reminds me of a lady who was my near neighbor in Wimbledon, and who +has been my sole companion for several months, to see you constantly +occupied with your needle," remarked Louise, looking on her aunt as she +assorted her cotton and arranged her work. + +"What is the lady's name, of whom you speak?" inquired the woman. + +"Mrs. Stanhope," answered Louise; "she is a kind soul. It pains me to +think I shall never see her again." + +"Do you not intend to return to your late home?" inquired the aunt, +somewhat surprised at the words of her niece. + +"Never!" returned Louise, with strong emphasis, "I could not endure it." + +"Pshaw! you will get over this weakness in a little while," said her +aunt. "You have half-conquered it by coming away, and you will complete +the victory by returning." + +"I tell you no," said Louise, somewhat angered by her aunt's +persistence. "I have already written to Mr. Richard Giblet, one of the +former firm of Edson & Co., to settle my affairs in Wimbledon, dispose +of my late residence, and remit the proceeds to me in drafts." + +The aunt looked astonished at this piece of intelligence, and said, "You +have been rash and premature, my child, and I fear will regret your +hasty proceedings." + +"If you knew how much it relieved me to get out of that place, aunt, you +would not fear I should ever wish to return. I was so near my enslaver +there, and my heart said all the time, 'O, I _must_ see him!' while +conscience whispered sternly, 'You _dare_ not do it.' There was a +constant war 'twixt love and reason, which threatened the extermination +of the latter." + +"I am glad you have been ruled by your better judgment," said her aunt; +"passion always leads us astray when we listen to its voice." + +"That is very true," answered Louise; "but O that I had known it only by +precept, and not by experience!" + +"Experience is called the best teacher," remarked the aunt. + +"It is the most bitter one," returned Louise. "How I wish you had been +with me through the few brief years of my married life! With your kind +care and admonitions I think I would never have strayed darkly into sin +and error." + +"We all err sometimes in our lives," said her aunt; "and I cannot +discover as you have wandered so far from the paths of rectitude that +your return to them should seem a thing impossible." + +"But did I not tell you how I deceived my husband?" asked Louise, +looking wofully in the face of her aunt. + +"Yes," returned she, calmly. "Did he never deceive you?" + +Louise paused a few moments, and answered, "I _was_ deceived when I +married him, but it was by my own blindness. However, the deception did +not last long," she added, with a spice of her old spirit. + +"And when it passed away," said her aunt. + +"Don't recall those terrible hours to my mind," interrupted Louise, +quickly, "lest I should forget the double share of respect I owe the +dead in that I failed to give them their due on earth." + +"I would not have the dead wronged," returned her aunt; "but I would +have the living righted. You used to be free and unrestrained in your +intercourse with me in the glad days of childhood and youth. I often +feared some envious sorrow would overtake you to chill and despoil that +buoyant exuberance of life and gayety. You were too wildly rich in heart +and soul. You wasted more love on a pet rabbit than would eke out the +whole passion life of a score of poorer natures. O, Louise, I trembled +when you stood before the altar and took the vows of faithfulness to Mr. +Leroy Edson. I knew you fancied that you loved him, and thought in the +wild potency of your passion to bear him skyward on your soaring +pinions; but, ah! I saw how sadly his clogging weight would drag you to +the earth." + +She paused, and Louise was silent, but her face showed traces of tears. + +"Do not think me severe," resumed her aunt; "I am only just. Now tell me +with your old-time confidence, why did you love another man while your +husband lived?" + +"It was because,"---- Louise hesitated, and then added, "because I was +wicked." + +"And for what other reason?" pursued her aunt. + +"And because I was tired," Louise went on in a dreamy tone, as if +thinking aloud to herself, "and because I was hungry." + +"Your expressions begin to assume the old, quaint, humorous form," said +the aunt smiling. "I suppose you mean your soul was tired for want of +something on which to rest, and hungry for want of its proper +nourishment." + +"That's what I mean, aunt; but then I do not seek excuse for the crime +of stealing to appease the cravings of my hunger." + +"A famishing man has never yet been hung for stealing to sustain life." + +"You draw a strong comparison, aunt," said Louise, laughing in spite of +herself. + +"To meet a strong case," returned she. "It is a duty I owe you to use my +best efforts to destroy this morbid melancholy which is preying on your +spirits. I know nothing of the man you have loved. He may or may not be +worthy of your affections. It is not his cause I plead. But I would +divest you of the false glasses through which your sensitive brain, +wrought on by high excitement, and shocked by a sudden calamity, has +come to regard the events of your past life, and let you behold them +again with your own natural sight. If I can effect this, I confidently +trust to your good reasoning powers to set all right again." + +Louise remained silent after her aunt ceased speaking, but her +countenance evinced far more energy and hopefulness than at the +commencement of the conversation. At length she rose and said, "Well, +aunt, I think I have as much logic as my weak brain can digest in one +night, so I'll retire to my bed-room, if you please." + +In a few weeks, young Mrs. Edson, under the tuition of her +strong-minded, sensible aunt, regained a share of her former vivacity, +and declared she would be quite herself again were it not for that great +black jail in the adjoining yard, which frowned on her every morning and +loomed dismally in her dreams. + + + + + CHAPTER XLIII. + + "Ah, why + Do you still keep apart, and walk alone, + And let such strong emotions stamp your brow, + As not betraying their full import, yet + Disclose too much! + Disclose too much!--of what? + What is there to disclose? + A heart so ill at ease." + + +The preparations for the nuptials of Florence Howard with Rufus Malcome +were rapidly progressing. + +The services of Dilly Danforth were put in active requisition. Day after +day her tall, thin form was seen moving to and fro the great mansion, +washing windows, polishing grates, and brightening the silver knobs and +plates of the mahogany doors. Col. Malcome, in his delight at the +approaching marriage of his son, resolved to give a large fête on the +occasion, and no pains were spared to render it the most costly and +sumptuous affair ever presented to the gaze of the people of Wimbledon. +The greatest expense was lavished upon the wedding-banquet, and the +young bride's trousseau might have vied in magnificence and profusion +with that of a royal princess. + +All this display and grandeur was revolting to Florence. It humbled and +mortified her proud, independent nature to owe the expensive decoration +of her approaching bridal to the generosity of the man she was about to +marry. + +Col. Malcome appeared in the most fitful spirits as the preparations +advanced toward their completion. He paced the piazzas for hours +together, with hurried, excited steps, pausing often and muttering +indistinctly to himself. + +Sometimes he stood before a window in a dejected attitude, and gazed +mournfully over the intervening gardens and cottages toward the elegant +and stately mansion lately occupied by the Edsons, which stood on a +small elevation just across the river, in the midst of beautiful +grounds. Then, as he turned suddenly away, his countenance would change +from its expression of gloomy regret to one of fierceness and angry +revenge. + +At length the night, whose morrow was to witness the long-expected +ceremony, drew on. Great torrents of rain were flooding the streets and +dashing dismally against the casements of the mansion which was, ere +long, to blaze in the light of the festive scene. + +Still, Col. Malcome, unheeding the storm, walked the wet marbles of the +piazzas, with arms folded over his chest and head bowed, in a state of +absent, moody absorption. At length the hall-door opened, and Rufus +advanced to his father's side. + +"What do you want with me?" said the colonel, turning quickly toward +him. + +"Not much," returned the son. "I heard you walking here, and thought I +would join you, as there was no one in the house to keep me company." + +"Where is Major Howard?" + +"With his wife," answered Rufus. + +"And Hannah?" continued the colonel. + +"Don't mention that detestable creature!" said the young man angrily. "I +can't abide her. So she is out of my sight, I care not where she is." + +"Why do you hate the woman so?" asked Col. M. "She seems very fond of +you." + +"Yes! I cannot move but what she follows me. It is strange Major Howard +retains such a bold, impudent slut in his service." + +The colonel coughed slightly and remained silent. + +At length Rufus spoke again hesitatingly, "Father!" said he. + +"Well!" returned Col. M., in a tone which indicated for him to proceed. + +"I don't want to marry Florence Howard," said the young man, with a +great gulp, as though it cost him a mighty effort to pronounce the +words. + +"Why not?" asked the father, apparently unheeding his son's emotion. +"Don't you love the girl?" + +"Love her!" repeated Rufus. "I don't know whether I do or not; but I am +afraid of her." + +"Afraid of a little, puny girl!" exclaimed Col. Malcome, in a towering +rage, "I did not think you such a pitiful craven." + +The young man seemed angered by his father's words, but made no retort. + +"Why are you afraid of her?" inquired the colonel after a while. + +"Because she looks so proud and stern upon me, and treats me with such +scorn and contempt." + +"O, never mind that!" said his father. "When she is once your wife trust +me to lower her loftiness, and make her as meek and humble as you could +wish. Let us go in now. How wildly this storm is driving! I hope it may +clear before the hour for the marriage arrives." Thus speaking, the +father and son entered the hall and sought their respective apartments. + +While this scene was passing on the piazza, Florence sat in her room +with her journal open on the table before her. + +"The last evening of my free, unfettered existence has drawn on," she +wrote. "How wildly shrieks the wind, driving great torrents of rain +against my curtained casements! It is fit a night like this should usher +in my day of doom. Father seems delighted with the approaching festival, +and mother has lost the dread she formerly evinced, which I now think +was occasioned by the fear of losing me from her side. Hannah is almost +wild with glee. She follows the steps of Rufus closely as his shadow. He +hates her, and in this one point our feelings sympathize, but in no +other. It is impossible to describe the loathing and abhorrence with +which I regard the man who in a few more hours will be my husband. O, +heavens! will no power save me from a fate so dreadful as a lifetime +passed with him? Alas, no! Our beautiful home is gone, and we are poor, +and had been shelterless but for these walls, which opened their doors +to take us in. And can I make so poor a return for this friendly +generosity, or so ungratefully scorn and reject the means presented to +reïnstate my father in wealth and magnificence, as to refuse to perform +the act which will repay the kindness and restore to him the elegant +home whose loss he so deeply deplores? O, no! I must not be so selfish +and ungrateful. Still, it seems a great sacrifice even to insure a +father's ease and happiness. I have an increasing dread and horror of +this Col. Malcome, which I cannot overcome, despite all his apparent +generosity and sympathy in our misfortune, and lavish display of +profusion and splendor with which he surrounds this approaching bridal. +It seems to me all this munificence goes to serve some fell purpose of +his own. His strange power over my easy-natured father excites dark +apprehensions in my bosom. But why torture myself with imagined ills, +when the dread realities are sufficient to unnerve my soul! Now, amid +this piteous wailing of storm and wind, I write the last words on these +dear old leaves as Florence Howard, and betake me to my pillow,--but O, +not to sleep! The bride of to-morrow will make a sorry figure in her +silks and jewels." + + + + + CHAPTER XLIV. + + "As Heaven is my spirit's trust, + So may its gracious power + Be near to aid and strengthen me + When comes the trial hour." + + +The hour drew on; the guests assembled, and the minister waited the +entrance of the bridal party to perform the solemn ceremony. + +The storm drove wildly without the mansion, in strange contrast with the +glowing warmth and luxuriance of the apartments within. + +Col. Malcome sat on a velvet sofa, in graceful attire, supporting the +wasted form of his daughter; who, thin, pale, and white as the garb she +wore, leaned her head, all shorn of its beautiful curls, heavily against +his shoulder. It was a sad sight to behold that feeble, emaciated figure +rising from a bed of disease and pain, to mingle among the festive +groups which filled those splendid drawing-rooms. + +Suddenly there was a stir in the hall, and the bridal group entered. +Florence, with the tips of her gloved fingers just touching the arm of +the man who was in a few moments to become her husband, moved gracefully +to the seat assigned her. She was magnificently arrayed in rose-colored +satin, with an over-skirt of elegantly-wrought Parisian lace, and a +spray of pearls and diamonds flashed their brilliant rays through the +luxuriant dark curls that clustered round her pale, sweet brow, and fell +in rich profusion over her white, uncovered shoulders. + +Rufus was arrayed in a glossy garb of the finest black broadcloth, with +a spotless vest of pearl-tinted satin, and immaculate white kids. His +dark visage, small, peering black eyes, and low-bred, clownish aspect, +contrasted strangely with the brilliant creature at his side. + +The maids and groomsmen were in splendid attire, and looked proud and +delighted with the notice their position attracted from the assembled +groups. + +Then came Major Howard, with a beaming countenance; his invalid lady, +who had summoned all her strength and fortitude to be present on the +occasion, leaning on his arm. + +Col. Malcome rose politely and gave her a seat on the sofa beside his +daughter, assuming himself a chair on the opposite side of the room. + +Hannah Doliver, in a very elaborate dress of gay plaided silk, her jet +black hair twisted into wiry ringlets, sat before her mistress, holding +a fan and silver vial, to serve the invalid's need, should the unusual +excitement produce a sudden nervous attack. + +A significant glance was exchanged between Major Howard and Col. +Malcome, when the latter arose, and, bowing to the clergyman who was to +officiate on the occasion, said: "All is in readiness to proceed with +the ceremony." + +The man of God came slowly forward, with a grave and solemn aspect. As +he was about to request the bridal group to rise, a stamping of heavy +feet on the piazza outside the windows arrested his words; and directly +the hall door was flung open with furious vehemence, and a party, +consisting of four tall, brawny men, in dripping hats and overcoats, +rushed into the apartment, leaving the door wide open behind them, with +the storm rushing in upon the assembly in its wildest fury. + +Col. Malcome sprang to his feet, his face glowing with anger at this +most untimely and insulting intrusion. + +"_Arrest that man!_" exclaimed the foremost of the strangers, pointing +his arm toward the form of the colonel, who stood glowering upon the +speaker with wrathful aspect. + +"For what?" said Major Howard, leaping from his seat, as two strong men +rushed forward to execute the command. + +"For destroying your buildings by fire, on the night of the twelfth of +January last," said the man who had ordered the arrest, whom the major +now recognized as the sheriff of the county. + +"Prove your words! prove your words!" exclaimed Col. Malcome, darting +back from the grasp of the men who approached to imprison him. + +"I am prepared to do so," returned the sheriff, motioning a tall, lank +form, in a long overcoat and broad-brimmed hat, which stood near the +door, to advance. + +"You were in the grounds adjoining Major Howard's mansion on the night +of the twelfth of January last," said he, addressing the +singular-looking man, whose features were so entirely hidden by his +collar and hat-brim, as to be indiscernible. + +The figure bowed low in token of assent. + +"What did you see there?" + +The _Hermit of the Cedars_ hesitated a moment, as if to collect his +thoughts, while the gaze of every person in the room was riveted upon +him, and a breathless silence reigned as he commenced to speak in a low, +measured tone of assurance and courage. + +"I saw a man in dark clothes standing on the piazza of the doomed +mansion. A figure in female garb appeared from within, and, after a +brief, whispered conversation, left a small basket in his hand, and +retired whence she had come. Then the man, after glancing cautiously +around him, descended the steps and proceeded to light the fires. In +three different places the devouring element was kindled, and, as he +stooped to blow the light fragments with his breath, the flames suddenly +leaped forth and revealed in startling distinctness the face and +features of the incendiary. His hat had fallen to the ground and left +his head exposed, which was covered with a profusion of light, auburn +hair, clustering in short, thick curls around a high, pale forehead." + +Major Howard sprang from his seat. + +"Sir!" said he, darting an enraged glance on the strange man, "are you a +fool? Do you not see the hair of the man you would accuse is black as +midnight, while you affirm that of the one who fired my mansion to have +been of a flaxen hue?" + +The hermit seemed not in the least disconcerted by this speech. Raising +the long cane on which his arms had been resting, he lifted the black +cloud of curls from the head of Col. Malcome and dashed it upon the +floor. + +"Herbert Mervale!" shrieked the invalided Mrs. Howard. + +On hearing this voice the muffled man, who had thrown off his +broad-brimmed hat, turned suddenly round. + +"And Ralph Greyson!" she added. + +Then throwing her arms around the wasted form of Edith Malcome, she +exclaimed: "My daughter! my daughter! is it thus I find you?" and sank +insensible on the sofa beside her. + +Hannah Doliver sprang toward Rufus, covering him with kisses and calling +him her "dear, dear son." + +The young man threw her roughly to the floor, and, alarmed by the sudden +scene of tumult and confusion, rushed into the street. + +Florence clung close to the side of her father, who seemed struck dumb +with horror and amaze. + +At length the sheriff approached him. "Do you wish further proofs +against the man we accuse?" he demanded. + +"Take the villain away!" roared Major Howard, bursting suddenly into a +terrific ebullition of anger, "and burn him at the stake. Hanging is too +easy death for such a monster of wickedness!" + +The assembly, terrified by the angry, tumultuous scene, began to +disperse. + +"Pause for a brief moment, my friends," said the major, growing somewhat +calmer; "I have a few words of explanation 'tis meet you should hear. +That man," pointing to Col. Malcome, who stood in the strong grasp of +his keepers, glaring around him with the ferocity of a baffled tiger, +"is the wretch who married my sister to steal her fortune, and leave her +in poverty and distress with a young babe at her breast, to debauch +himself with her serving-woman, by whom he had also a child. There lies +the woman he has wronged," said he, his face growing fiercer, as he +pointed to the form of the supposed Mrs. Howard, cast lifelessly on the +sofa beside Edith Malcome, "at the feet of her daughter, and there +stands the vile creature," pointing a wrathful finger toward Hannah +Doliver, "who was his leman. But her bastard boy has fled the embrace of +his polluted mother. My sister returned to me, after suffering inhuman +barbarities from this monster, but he withheld her child. Her heart was +broken by misfortune, and her only wish was to pass the remainder of her +life in quiet and seclusion. My wife died when this dear girl was an +infant," said he, taking the hand of Florence in his, who stood with her +eyes fixed immovably on her father's face; "and I besought my sister to +stand in the place of a mother to my little daughter." + +Florence directed a quick, troubled glance toward the form which still +lay motionless on the sofa beside Edith, but did not move. + +"I have no more to say," resumed the major more calmly; "the artful +wickedness which has threatened my ruin is exposed. Officers of justice, +do your duty! Take Herbert Mervale from my presence!" + +The strong men grasped the form of the prisoner and marched him from the +room. The baffled villain made no resistance. He closed his eyes to +avoid beholding the loathing, abhorrent glances which were showered on +him from all sides. + +As the hermit was slowly following the receding group, Major Howard +stepped to his side, and, laying his hand lightly on his arm, said: + +"Will you not remain till the guests have retired?" + +"No," answered the recluse, shaking his head sadly, "I have done my duty +and had better depart." + +"You have saved me from destruction," said Major Howard, in a tone +trembling with grateful emotion, as he seized the thin, emaciated hand +of the hermit, and pressed it warmly to his bosom; "how shall I reward +you?" + +"I seek no reward from your generosity," returned the solitary, escaping +from the grasp which detained him; "the consciousness of having done +right is sufficient recompense." + +Thus speaking, he turned away. Major Howard returned to the parlors. The +guests were departing, and the several members of the family had +disappeared. + +He hurried to the apartment occupied by his sister, and there beheld her +and Edith lying side by side, apparently in tranquil sleep, with +Florence and Sylva, Edith's maid, watching at the bed-side. + +Hannah Doliver was nowhere to be seen. + +Florence advanced to meet her father, and, twining her arm +affectionately round his neck, turned a tender glance on the pale faces +of the sleepers, and said: + +"O, father! father! let us kneel by this low couch and thank God for +this merciful deliverance!" + + + + + CHAPTER XLV. + + ---------------------"All this is well; + For this will pass away, and be succeeded + By an auspicious hope, which shall look up + With calm assurance to that blessed place + Which all who seek may win, whatever be + Their earthly errors, so they be atoned; + And the commencement of atonement is + The sense of its necessity." + + +Baby No. 2, had appeared at the home of Mrs. Salsify Mumbles, and the +delighted grandmother held the tiny little creature this way and that +way, gazing on its features with the most doting fondness, and nearly +smothering it with affectionate kisses. + +And baby No. 2 did not squeal like its lusty-lunged predecessor. O, no! +it had the softest little feminine quackle, for all the world like a +downy young gosling; and Mrs. Salsify said she would have it called +Goslina, it quackled so sweetly. So Goslina Shaw was the euphonious +sobriquet of baby No. 2, and the joyful grandame returned it to the bed +beside the pale face of its mother, where 'twas quackling off to sleep, +when Mr. Salsify came in from the store, his features glowing, as if he +had some startling intelligence to convey. + +"My sakes! what is it, Mr. Mumbles?" asked the fond wife quickly marking +her husband's excited manner. + +"I guess folks will have something to talk about besides my getting +gagged at the Woman's Convention," said Mr. Salsify, rather maliciously, +drawing a chair before the grate and placing his feet on the fender. + +"Why, what has happened?" inquired his wife, eagerly. + +"Enough has happened," returned he, "if all Martha Pinkerton has just +been telling me is true." + +"Where did you see her?" asked Mrs. Salsify. + +"She came into the store to-night to buy a chunk of cheese; so I asked +her what was the news? when she told me of the awfulest tragedy that +occurred at Col. Malcome's the night they undertook to get Florence +Howard married to the colonel's son." + +"O, mercy, who was killed?" exclaimed Mrs. S., with uplifted hands. + +"Nobody as I know of," returned Mr. Mumbles, whose ideas of a tragedy +were different from those of his good wife; "but then the whole company +might have been, for they had a murderer amongst them." + +"Mercy to me, how awful!" said Mrs. Salsify. "What was his name and how +did he get there?" + +"His name was Col. Malcome, and he got there by his own wickedness." + +"You don't mean to tell me that handsome Col. Malcome is a murderer!" +exclaimed Mrs. Salsify, with terror depicted on her features. + +"Yes I do, and worse than that; he burned Major Howard's house, and +tried to get his pretty daughter married to her own brother." + +"How can Rufus Malcome be a brother to Florence Howard?" asked Mrs. +Mumbles, in amaze. "You are talking nonsense to me, I fear." + +"O, no," returned her husband. "I tell you this Colonel Malcome has +turned out the strangest. He is Major Howard's mother, and Dilly +Danforth's aunt, and that old hermit's sister, and the Lord knows who +and what else; but they have carried him off to jail, so there'll be no +chance for him to burn any more houses." + +Here Mr. Mumbles drew a long breath and rested a while. + +"I am glad I didn't marry him," said a feeble voice from the bed. + +"So am I, my daughter," said the father quickly; "and you may thank me +for having saved you from a fate so deplorable. Your mother was mightily +taken with this colonel when he came fawning round us, and she was +pretty cross when I told her it would not do to let him marry you. I +knew that great black head was full of wickedness, and so it has +proved." + +Mrs. Salsify sat rather uneasily while her husband vaunted his superior +knowledge of human nature, but the gentle Goslina began to quackle from +the bed, and she soon forgot all else in care for the dear little +creature. + +While this conversation was passing at the home of the Mumbles, the +Hermit of the Cedars sat before the glowing fire which brightened the +rough walls of Dilly Danforth's humble abode. He had acknowledged +himself as her long-absent brother, and great was her joy at beholding +him again, though she grieved to know how one deep sorrow had blasted +his early promise and made him a wretched, solitary recluse. + +"I fear," said she, at length, "you must still feel bitterly toward me +for the low connection I was so unfortunate as to form, which biased the +mind of your fair lady's brother against your suit." + +"No, my sister," returned the hermit, in a tone of tender sadness; "I +deeply regret the harshness and wrong I visited upon you in the wild +fury of that early disappointment, for I have learned no act of yours +influenced Major Howard against my suit. It was the wily artfulness of +my rival, who breathed specious tales of my unworthiness in the ear of +the brother, and caused her, the fair, unsuspecting girl, to turn from +me and give her hand to Mervale." + +The hermit's voice trembled as he pronounced these latter words, and he +bowed his head in silence. The sister pitied the sorrow which she knew +not how to soothe. + +At length Willie entered, his face all bright with smiles. + +"What makes you look so glad?" asked his mother, gazing with fond +admiration on the tall, handsome boy; for she still regarded him as a +child, though he was nearly grown to man's estate. + +"I have got something for Uncle Ralph," said he, looking cunningly in +the hermit's face. + +"What is it, William?" inquired he, with a solemn smile. + +The youth drew a letter from his pocket and placed it in his uncle's +hand. + +"It is from Edgar," said he, eagerly breaking the seal. + +All were silent while he was occupied in the perusal. + +"Edgar has received the disclosures in regard to the pretended Col. +Malcome with unaffected astonishment," remarked the hermit, as he +refolded the letter and placed it in his bosom. "He appears delighted to +learn that Willie Danforth, of whom he has heard me speak so +regardfully, is his cousin, and sends much love to him and also to his +new-found aunt." + +Mrs. Danforth looked gratified at these words, as did also Willie. + +"I am sure I want to see him very much," said the latter. "When is he +coming home, uncle?" + +"In summer, when the woods are green, he says," returned the hermit; "he +is now taking sketches in the vicinity of Richmond, Va." + +"Was his father an artist?" asked Mrs. D. + +"Yes," answered the recluse. "I well remember where sister Fanny first +met him, and how quick a wild, deep love grew out of the romantic +adventure. It was a few months after we left this country--I to forget +in travel my cankering sorrows, she to companion my wanderings. How it +affects me now to think that we left you in suffering poverty without +even a kind good-by! Our shares in the estate of our deceased parents +furnished us with funds for travel, while yours had been squandered by a +dissolute man. But we should have given you of ours to alleviate your +wants and distresses. Fanny often told me so; but my worst passions were +roused by the misfortune I conceived you had helped to bring upon me, +and I would not hear her pleadings in your behalf. What a hard-hearted +wretch I have been!" + +The hermit paused and covered his face. + +Willie looked from his uncle to his mother, and at length approached +him. "Do not fall into one of your gloomy reveries," said he; "tell us +more of Edgar's mother." + +"Ay, yes," said the hermit, rousing himself; "I was speaking of her +first meeting with her future husband. It was among the ruins of the +Eternal City. She had wandered forth by herself one day, and, +intoxicated by the scenes that met her eye on every hand, roamed so far +that when the shades of night began to fall, she discovered herself in +the midst of gloomy, crumbling walls and tottering columns, without +knowing whither to direct her steps. While she stood indeterminate, a +gentleman approached, and kindly inquired if she had lost her way. She +answered in the affirmative, and he offered to escort her home. I +remember how glowing bright was her face that night, as she came +bounding up the steps of our habitation, and presented the 'young artist +she had found beneath the walls of Rome,' as she termed her companion, +and laughingly recounted her adventure. I believe our family are +predisposed to strong feelings, for I never witnessed a love more +engrossing than was hers for the young Lindenwood; nor was his devotion +to her less remarkable. They were married, and I left them to pursue my +wanderings alone. + +"When, after a lapse of several years, I returned, it was to stand over +their death-beds, and receive their boy under my protection. His father +was rich, and a large fortune was left to his only child. A few more +years I roamed, and then with the young Edgar sought my native shores. + +"You know the rest. It is a long yarn I have spun you," said he, rising, +"and I marvel you are not both asleep." + +"Are you going back to the forest to-night?" asked Mrs. Danforth, as he +wrapped the long coat about his thin form, and placed the broad-brimmed +hat over his gray locks. + +"Yes, Delia," answered he. "I sleep best with the roar of the cedars in +my ears." + +"I will go with you," said Willie, springing for his cap. + +The twain set forth together, while the lonely woman sought her couch +and thought mournfully of long-past days and years. + + + + + CHAPTER XLVI. + + "She is a bustling, stalwart dame, and one + That well might fright a timid, modest man. + Look how she swings her arms, and treads the floor + With direful strides!" + + +It was a bright, sunny spring morning, and Wimbledon was beautiful in +budding foliage, singing blue-birds and placid little river, with the +sunbeams silvering its ripply surface. + +The windows of Mr. Pimble's kitchen were raised and therein Peggy Nonce +moved vigorously to and fro, with rolled-up sleeves and glowing face, +stirring a great fire which roared and crackled in the jaws of a huge +oven, and then back to the pantry, where she wielded the sceptre of an +immense rolling-pin triumphantly over whole trays of revolting +pie-crust, marched forth long files of submissive pies, and lodged them +in the red-hot prison. + +While the stalwart house-keeper was thus occupied, Mr. Pimble, with a +yellow silk handkerchief tied over his straggling locks, and his pale, +palm-figured wrapper drawn closely around him, scraped the stubbed claw +of a worn-out corn broom over the kitchen floor, clapping his heelless +slippers after him as he moved slowly along. Peggy never heeded him at +all, but rushed to and fro, as if there had been no presence in the +kitchen save her own, often dragging the dirt away, on her trailing +skirts, just as the indefatigable sweeper had collected it in a pile. + +All at once, pert little Susey Pimble opened the parlor door and +swinging herself outward, said, "I want the dining-room castors and +tea-cups, and mamma says I am to have them and you are to come and give +them to me." + +The father rested his arms on the broom handle, and turning his face +toward his hopeful daughter, who was a "scion of the old stock," said, +"I will come soon as I have swept the floor." + +"I cannot wait," returned Susey, sharply, "I must have them this +moment." + +The father laid down his broom passively, and saying, "What an impatient +little miss you are!" clappered off to the dining-room, and brought +forth the desired articles on a waiter. + +Miss Susey, all atilt with delight, danced forward and caught it from +her father's hands; but its weight proved too much for her little arms, +and down it went to the floor with a fearful crash! Susey sprang back +with a frightened aspect at the mischief she had done, and Peggy Nonce, +dropping her rolling-pin, rushed out of the pantry and beheld the +fragments of broken china scattered over the floor. Her face crimsoned +with anger. + +"What a destructive little minx!" she exclaimed, glaring on the +offending Susey. "How dared you meddle with those dishes?" + +"Mamma said I might have them to play house with," answered Susey, with +flashing eyes. + +"Who ever heard of such a thing as giving a child a china tea set to +play with?" said Peggy, holding up her bare, brawny arms in amazement. + +"My mother has heard of such a thing; and she knows more than fifteen +women like you, old aunt Peggy Nonce," returned Miss Susey, with the air +of a tragedy queen. + +The unusual sounds aroused Mrs. Pimble, who appeared at the parlor door +with a goose-quill behind her ear, and a written scroll in her hand. +When her eyes fell on the spectacle in the centre of the kitchen, she +stamped violently, and exclaimed, in a tempestuous tone, "What does this +mean?" Mr. Pimble slunk away into a corner, while Peggy pursed up her +lips with a defiant expression, and Susey grew suddenly very meek and +blushing-faced. + +Mrs. Pimble's eyes followed her husband. "You crawling, contemptible +thing," she exclaimed, "have you grown so stupid and insensate that you +cannot comprehend a simple question? Again I demand of you, what does +this mean?" and she pointed her finger sternly to the broken fragments +which strewed the floor. + +"Susey said you told her she might have the castors and tea things, and +that I was to give them to her," said Mr. Pimble, without lifting his +eyes from the hearth he was contemplating. + +"Very well, I did tell Susey she might have the articles mentioned to +amuse herself with, and it was fitting she should have them, or I had +not given my consent. But why do I find them dashed to the floor and +rendered useless? Answer me that, you slip-shod sloven?" + +With an awful air, Mrs. Pimble folded her arms and looked down upon her +husband, who cringed away before her ireful presence, and said, "Susey +dropped the waiter." + +"Dropped the waiter!" repeated Mrs. Pimble, her anger freshening to a +gale. "And could you not prevent her from dropping it? or had you no +more sense than to load an avalanche of china on the arms of a little +child?" + +"She took the waiter from me," said Pimble, in a dogged tone, his eyes +still studying the tiles in the hearth. + +Mrs. Pimble darted upon him one glance of the most withering contempt, +and taking Susey by the hand led her from the room, without deigning to +utter another word. + +Soon as she disappeared Peggy set about clearing up the broken crockery, +and Mr. Pimble crawled off into the recess of a window where the sun +might shine on his shivering frame, and at length fell asleep. He had +hardly concluded his first dream of fragmentary tea-cups, ere a violent +pulling at his draggling coat-tails, which hung over the sill, caused +him to wake with a start, when he beheld Peggy Nonce at his side, +saying, "Dilly Danforth was come to see him." With a hopeless yawn he +crawled out of his sunny nook, and, turning his dull, sleepy eyes toward +the disturber of his quiet, demanded, in a surly tone, "what she wanted +with him." + +"I have come to pay my quarter's rent," said Mrs. Danforth, placing a +bank note in his grimy hand. He closed his skinny fingers on it with an +eager clutch, and looked in the woman's face with a vague expression of +wonder. + +"I am glad to get a shilling from you at last," said he, fondling the +note; "but this will not quite pay up the last quarter's rent. There's +about half a dollar more my due. You can come and do the spring +cleaning, and then I'll call matters square between us." + +"I thought ten dollars was the sum specified, for three months' rent," +remarked Mrs. Danforth. + +"It was," returned he, "but you know you had the pig's feet and ears at +the fall butchering, and Mrs. Pimble gave you a petticoat in the winter. +These things would amount to more than fifty cents, if I put their real +value upon them; but as you have cashed this payment, I will, as I said +before, call all square with a few days' light work from you." + +Mrs. Danforth drew another note from her pocket, and, placing it in his +hand, asked him to satisfy himself of his claims upon her, as she could +not favor him with her services as he desired, having work of her own to +do. Mr. Pimble looked still more astonished when he felt the second note +between his fingers. He put it in his pocket and returned her a silver +piece. She took it, and, turning to depart, said, "I shall not want your +house any longer, Mr. Pimble. I am going to move away to-day." + +"Where are you going?" he asked, opening his sleepy eyes very wide. + +"I have hired a room in Deacon Allen's cottage," answered she. "It is +near the seminary, where William attends school." + +Mr. Pimble continued to stare on the woman, with distended eyeballs. + +"You have been a very peaceable tenant," he said at length; "I would +rent my house cheaper, if you would remain another year." + +"I have made my arrangements to move, and would prefer to do so," +returned Mrs. Danforth, bidding him good-morning. + +He looked very much disconcerted after she was gone, and muttered, he +"did not see what had set Dilly Danforth up so, all at once." + + + + + CHAPTER XLVII. + + "'Tis silent all!--but on my ear + The well-remembered echoes thrill; + I hear a voice I should not hear, + A voice that now might well be still. + Yet oft my doubting soul 't will shake; + Even slumber owns its gentle tone, + Till consciousness will vainly wake, + To listen though the dream be flown." + + +"O, it is ever the wildest storms that lull to the sweetest calms!" +wrote Florence Howard, on a new-turned leaf of her well-treasured +journal. "My heart is singing grateful anthems to the all-wise Father, +who stretched forth his friendly arm to save me from the 'snare of the +spoiler.' As I sit here to-night, with a young May moon gleaming down +through the far depths of liquid ether, like a sweet, angel face of pity +and love, how dimly o'er my memory come the stormy scenes of sin and +passion which conspired to render terrible the winter that has passed +away! My soul, long torn and rent by grief and wild-contending emotions, +grows tranquil in the calm and quiet which have succeeded the furious +storm, and settles to peaceful rest. + +"It is enough for me to know my father's wrongs are righted and I am +still his own, and only his. The clown, from whose polluting arms kind +Providence rescued me, has never shown his hateful form among us since +the day that witnessed the disclosure of his father's baseness. His vile +mother has also disappeared, in search of her son. Great Heaven! to +think I was so near becoming the wife of that woman's child of sin; and, +but for that strange, wild hermit, who lifted the black curls that +veiled the monster who sought our destruction, O, where had we all been +now? And was it not a striking instance of Jehovah's righteous +retributions, that the man who was once the betrothed of my aunt, should +be the instrument selected by Heaven to disclose the villany and +wickedness of the wretch who seduced her affections by artful +falsehoods, and made her his wife, but to steal her fortune and blast +her life? Poor, dear aunt Mary! I mourn not nor pine to find she is not +my mother, for surely the fragile Edith, so rudely shocked by the +disclosures of her father's crimes, would have drooped and died, had she +not found a mother's fond affection to comfort and sustain her in the +trial hour. It is a beautiful sight, this reünion of parent and child. +How trustingly they cling to each other, and how their wan aspects +brighten in the warmth of their mutual affection! But I think there's a +love in the mother's heart yet stronger than that she feels for her +child. I watch her emotional excitement when the name of the hermit is +mentioned, and I think that early devotion has survived all +disappointments and afflictions. What a romantic thing it would be for +them to meet in the evening of life and renew the promises of their +youth! But it may not be, for the conviction steals coldly o'er me that +my dear aunt has been too deeply tried to long survive her sorrows. Even +the joy of discovering a daughter may not save her from the tomb which +opens to receive her weary form in its oblivious arms. Father looks on +the thin, wasted form, following Edith closely as her shadow, with a +fond, earnest gaze fixed on the gentle girl, and turns to hide a tear. +O, would the blow might be a while averted! All is so bright and sunny +around us now. I even try to nurse the belief that I _could_ not be +happier, but my heart will rebel against the specious falsehood. Still, +still it wears the fetters love so enduringly fastened. Still I remember +that double dawn which rose on me as I stood on the cloud-veiled summit +of old, hoary-headed Mount Washington. + + 'And I saw it with such feeling, joy in blood and heart and brain, + I would give, to call the affluence of that moment back again, + Europe, with her cities, rivers, hills of prey, sheep-sprinkled downs, + Ay, an hundred sheaves of sceptres, ay, a planet's gathered crowns,' + +"But I must not write thus, lest I grow ungrateful for the mercies of a +gracious Providence. Let me thank my God for his remembrance in the hour +of sorest need, and lie down to slumber." + +She closed her book, and, dropping softly on her knees before the low +curtained couch, leaned her young head, with its dark, clustering curls, +against the white cushions, and remained several moments in silent +prayer. Then rising, she closed the casements and retired to rest. + + + + + CHAPTER XLVIII. + + "Come rest in this bosom, my own stricken deer, + Though the herd should fly from thee, thy home is still here. + + * * * + + I know not, I ask not, if guilt's in thy heart; + I but know that I love thee, whatever thou art!" + + +A graceful form bent over a printed page, and by the light of a waxen +taper, devoured its startling contents. Ah, how awfully startling to the +reader! for it was Louise Edson poreing over the disclosures of Col. +Malcome's wickedness and crime. But, as she drew toward the close, a +sudden ray of light struggled through the anguish and misery which had +cast her features into utter darkness, when her eye first lighted on the +glaring capitals of the criminal's name. Concealing the paper which +contained the fearful tale of his guilt, she hastened to her own +apartment. + +As the shades of the following evening drew on, a female figure, wrapped +in a large shawl, with her features closely veiled, stood at the iron +door of the huge, black jail, and besought an entrance. + +"Who do you wish to see?" demanded the jailer, in a coarse, rough tone, +seeking to penetrate the veil with his impertinent eyes. + +She breathed a low word in his ear. The man started. + +"Is it possible you wish to behold a wretch like him?" exclaimed he. + +The lady drew up her slight form with an air of dignity, and said, +"Deliver my message, and bring me his answer!" + +Awed by her manner, the jailer hastened his steps to obey her command. + +The door of a gloomy cell on the second floor of the huge building +opened with a harsh, grating sound, and the man stepped in and secured +the door behind him. The prisoner, who was sitting beside a table, with +pen and paper before him, turned round and fixed his eyes upon the +intruder. "What do you want?" asked he. "When you use double bolts and +bars to secure me, is it necessary to come every hour to see if I have +not escaped?" + +"I have not come to satisfy myself of your safety," returned the jailer, +scowling on the speaker. "There's a woman at the outer door who wants to +know if you will grant her a brief interview." + +The prisoner started abruptly at these words. "What is her name?" +demanded he, quickly. + +"I do not know," answered the man. "She did not tell me; but she seemed +mighty impatient for an answer to her request." + +The prisoner bowed his head and sat in silence several moments. At +length he said, "Bring her in! I have a curiosity to know what woman +would penetrate these walls to seek an interview with me." + +The jailer disappeared. In a few moments footsteps were heard along the +dark passage, a female form was ushered into the cheerless apartment, +and the lock turned harshly upon her. Then a white hand was laid lightly +on the bright curling locks of the bowed head, and a low voice whispered +in the ear of the incarcerated man, "It is a pitiful heart that forgets +a friend in adversity." + +"Louise!" said the prisoner, shrinking away with evident pain from her +touch. "Why are you here?" + +"To cheer you,--to comfort you," said she, earnestly regarding his pale, +handsome features. + +But he turned away from her gaze, shaking his head mournfully. "This is +the deepest humiliation I have yet endured," he said, while a creeping +shudder convulsed his frame. "To feel those clear eyes fastened upon me, +piercing through and through my soul, and reading all the guilt and +crime that's written there. O, Louise! was it not enough to drive me, by +your unrelenting scorn and bitterness, to commit the act which has +brought me here, without seeking to torment your victim by penetrating +his dungeon to mock at the misfortune your own cruelty occasioned?" + +He raised his pale, distressed face imploringly to hers as he ceased to +speak; but she started back from her position at his side, and with an +angry accent said, "I do not understand how any fell influence of mine +should cause you to break the heart of an innocent woman by your guilty +conduct with another." + +"I did not seek to refer the blame of those early sins to any influence +of yours," he answered. "How could I, when they were committed before +your birth? In the very dust I acknowledge those deeds of villany and +vileness. But too late is my grief and repentance. The blow has fallen, +and my doom is fixed." + +He leaned his arms forward upon the table, and, sinking his head upon +them, uttered a low groan of hopeless, despairing misery. + +Tears sprang to Louise's eyes, and, approaching, she dropped on her +knees at his side, and laid her hand on his arm, "Do you remember a +promise I gave you long ago?" she asked softly. "If I have seemed +forgetful, let me renew it now." + +He still retained his attitude of dejection, and seemed regardless of +her pleading tones. + +"You will not hear me," she said at length, in a voice broken with +grief, "when I kneel at your feet and ask your pardon." + +"_You_ kneel to _me_!" said he, suddenly grasping her arm and striving +to raise her from the humble position. "Rise, I entreat, if you would +not drive me mad!" + +She stood before him, with tears falling fast from her beautiful eyes. +"Who is the cruel one now?" she asked. "Who throws me aside and refuses +forgiveness when it is repentantly implored?" + +"What signifies the pardon of a wretch like me?" said he, in a tone of +agony. "What is he? what can he be to you?" + +Turning her head aside, she said in a soft, trembling voice, "He is what +he has ever been, and still may be,--my world of love and happiness!" +Her cheeks flushed, as, lifting her eyes, she encountered his earnest +gaze. She sought to move away, but he was by her side. "Louise! Louise!" +said he, in a tone of thrilling emotion, "Dare I hope that you love me +still?" + +There was no word; but she put her arm round his neck and sank weeping +on his bosom. He pressed her again and again to his heart. "Ah, indeed!" +said he, at length, "this is the luxury of woe. To know at last this +love is mine, and be separated forever from its dear embraces by the +cold walls of a prison. Stern justice can inflict no pang like this." + +"Talk not of separation," said she, lifting her head, and revealing a +face redolent with happiness. "No hand shall take me from you save the +hand of death!" + +He gazed with unspeakable tenderness on her glowing features, and said +sorrowfully, "My wickedness does not deserve this angel-comforter. Why +did you withhold this blessed consolation when the world smiled brightly +on me?" + +"To bestow it when the world had cast you off," said she; "to think of +you at your best, when it had made your name a by-word and reproach." + +He pressed his lips tenderly to the white, upturned brow, and drew her +to a seat. A half-hour passed in low, earnest conversation, when the +grating of the iron key aroused them, and Louise had only time to draw +her veil over her features when the jailer entered. "I am ready to +follow you," she said, advancing toward him. + +He held the heavy door asunder, and, with one lingering glance on the +form of the prisoner, she went forth and followed her guide through the +dark passages, and down the steep flights of stairs. He unlocked the +street-door, and she stepped lightly forth beneath the light of the +stars. + + + + + CHAPTER XLIX. + + "They loved;--and were beloved. O happiness. + I have said all that can be said of bliss + In saying that they loved. The young heart has + Such store of wealth in its own fresh, wild pulse, + And it is love that works the mind, and brings + Its treasure to the light. I did love once, + Loved as youth, woman, genius loves; though now + My heart is chilled and seared, and taught to wear + The falsest of false things--a mask of smiles; + Yet every pulse throbs at the memory + Of that which has been." + + +Summer showered her wealth of roses over the gardens and grassy paths of +Wimbledon. Day after day the sound of the busy hammer rang out on the +scented air, and crowds of workmen were seen at eventide hurrying to +their separate places of abode. Great teams, loaded with fancy and +ornamental wood and iron work, labored through the streets, and "Summer +Home" was rising from its ruins in all its former magnificence and +splendor. + +Major Howard decided he could not use the confiscated wealth of the +pretended Col. Malcome for a better purpose than to rebuild the mansion +his wickedness had destroyed. + +Florence was delighted at the prospect of regaining the beautiful home +she had lost; for, elegant and luxurious as was her present abode, she +was disquieted by too frequent remembrance of the terrible scenes she +had witnessed beneath its roof. Still, the Howards were for the most +part very happy. Edith's bright head was again covered with its golden +wealth of curls, and her merry laughter echoed joyously through the +halls and parlors of the proud mansion. It seemed her greatest delight +to bring a smile to the wan cheek of her mother, who was failing slowly, +even beneath the genial influence of a summer sun. + +As Florence stood on the vine-curtained terrace one balmy August +morning, inhaling the sweet air, and listening to the thrilling +warblings of Edith's pet canaries, as they swung in their wire-wrought +cages from the roof above, she beheld Willie Danforth coming up the +garden path, holding a letter toward her in his cunning, tempting way. +She extended her hand to receive it. + +"No," said he, suddenly drawing it back. "I don't think I'll let you +have this tiny little missive, unless you will first promise to tell me +who is the writer." + +"Why, how can I tell you till I know myself?" said she, still reaching +for the letter, which he continued to withhold, smiling at her eager, +impatient aspect. + +His frolicsome habit of teasing gently any one he loved always reminded +her of Edgar Lindenwood, and he was very like his cousin in personal +appearance. So thought Florence; and he and his mother, who lived in a +room of Dea. Allen's cottage, just across the garden, became marked +favorites of hers. + +At length Willie gave her the letter. She broke the seal quickly, and +hurried through the contents. + +"I'll tell you who 'tis from, gladly," said she, with a bright smile; +"for I fancy it will afford you pleasure to know. Do you remember a +little girl, named Ellen Williams, who used to trip over the piazza we +stand on now?" + +The young man's face brightened and blushed as he replied eagerly, + +"That do I, and her brother Neddie." + +"Well, they are both coming here to make me a nice, long visit," said +she, in a delighted tone. "Is not this happy news?" + +"It is, indeed," answered Willie; "but where did you make their +acquaintance, Florence?" + +"During the period of my travels they were my constant companions. I +recollect how eagerly Ellen inquired for you, when we first met at +Niagara; but I was then almost ignorant of your existence, and could +give her no satisfactory information. I told her there was a youth I had +heard called Willie Greyson, who lived with a hermit; and she said +Greyson was your mother's maiden name; but so dutiful and affectionate a +son as you would never leave a lonely, widowed parent to dwell with a +solitary hermit. So she would believe you were dead." + +"And did that belief appear to cause her any regret?" asked William, who +had been listening with an earnest expression to Florence's words. + +"Yes, indeed," returned she; "the pretty, gentle girl has a strong +regard for you, Willie. You must renew acquaintance when she and her +brother come to pay me their long-meditated visit." + +"I don't know," said the young man, rather sadly. + +"I believe you will be a second Hermit of the Cedars, or the Hemlocks, +or the Pines," said she, laughing; "for you are already half as +melancholy as your uncle, at times." + +"Do you consider him so very gloomy, then?" asked Willie. + +"He has the most mournful expression I ever saw," answered Florence; +"but he is an entertaining companion for all that. I always sit apart, +and listen in silence, when he relates some tale or adventure of his +extensive travels. He was with us yesterday evening, and I never saw him +so animated and lively before. Even Aunt Mary's pale, grief-worn +countenance assumed a cheerful expression while listening to his +sprightly, intelligent conversation." + +"Did you not know the cause of his unusual exhilaration?" inquired +William. + +"No," said Florence, looking innocently in the face of the questioner. + +"Edgar is at home." + +"Why did he not inform us of his nephew's return?" asked Florence, +growing suddenly very pale, and finding it convenient to lean against a +pillar near by. + +"Perhaps he did not think the intelligence would interest your family," +returned Willie; "he is very modest in his confidences." + +The seminary bell now commenced to ring, and the youth hastened away +with a pleasant good-morning. + +Florence stood there a long time, behind the thickly-interwoven +woodbines and honeysuckles, supporting herself against the marble +column, forgetful of all save the blissful thought that the man she +loved was once more near her. He was, indeed, nearer than she supposed, +for there came a light footstep on the vine-shrouded terrace, and she +felt an arm stealing softly around her, while a voice, whose briefest +tone she could never mistake, whispered in her ear: + +"Again we have met, and O, Florence! say, in mercy say, it shall be to +part no more!" + +There is nothing so natural, to a woman that loves, as the presence of +the beloved object; and Florence turned toward Edgar with no amazement +or surprise; but love unspeakable lighted her features as she placed her +hand in his, tenderly, trustfully, and with a manner that convinced him +she would never withdraw it again. + +Then she led him into the drawing-room, where the family soon assembled, +and were presented to the young artist. + +Aunt Mary was delighted with his appearance, and soon engaged him in a +conversation which grew very brilliant and animated on his part, and was +joined in by Florence and Edith, till Major Howard entered, whose joy at +again beholding his former travelling companion knew no bounds, and the +mirth and merriment increased four-fold. Evening had fallen ere they +were aware, when Edgar rose and said he must return to the hermit's +habitation. + +All regretted to lose his presence, and Major Howard strongly invited +him to regard his mansion as a home while he should remain in the +vicinity. + +Edgar thanked him for his generous offer, and gracefully bowed a +good-evening. + +Florence accompanied him to the hall door, and he drew her forth on the +terrace, which was now glinted over by the silvery moonbeams. + +"Come soon again," said she. + +"Yes, dearest," he answered. A long, sweet kiss and gentle adieu, in +which there was love enough to feast even her long-famishing soul, and +he was gone. + +She skipped lightly into the parlor, kissed her father, Aunt Mary, +Edith, Sylva, and Fido, the little Spanish poodle that was nestled in +her arms, and then bounded up the stairs to her own apartment, singing +as she went. + +"There goes the happiest heart in Wimbledon, to-night," said her father, +as he caught the sound of her musical voice ringing through the spacious +hall above. + +"Save one," said Aunt Mary, with a sad smile. + +"He is beyond its precincts," returned Major Howard. "Edith, did you +ever love?" said he, quickly turning his discourse toward the gentle +girl, who stood, regarding attentively the faces of the speakers, as if +she hardly comprehended their words. + +"No," answered she, innocently. + +"Heaven grant you never may," said her mother, fervently; "come, my +child, let us seek the quiet of our own apartment." + +Edith threw her arm affectionately round the wasted form. + +"Good-night, uncle," said she, and they all disappeared. + + + + + CHAPTER L. + + "We leave them at the portal + Of earthly happiness; + We pray the power immortal + May hover o'er to bless; + And strew their future pathway + With flowers of peace and love, + Till death shall call their spirits + To Eden realms above." + + +When "Summer Home" rose complete in its beautiful architectural design, +with its wealth of foliage and flowers all in wildest, richest +profusion, a young bride walked under the trailing vines which overhung +the marble-supported terrace, and a manly form at her side opened the +hall door and ushered her into the magnificent drawing-rooms. It was +Florence Lindenwood. + +Then a carriage came rolling up the long avenue of cedars, conveying +Major Howard, his sister, Edith, and Sylva, with the lap-dog and pet +canaries in her care, to the newly-completed mansion. What a regal home +they entered, and how proud and happy were their beaming faces! + +The day was passed with a social group of friends, among whom Ned +Williams, his sister Ellen, and young Willie Danforth, were the most +lively and mirthful. At night-fall the hermit appeared, and was warmly +received. He sat down by aunt Mary, and conversed calmly, as was his +wont. + +Florence glanced about the apartment in search of her husband, wondering +that he did not come forward to welcome his uncle, but he had +disappeared. She flew up stairs to their apartment, and beheld him +sitting before a table, apparently absorbed in the contents of some +volume. Stepping softly forward, she leaned over his shoulder. He was +reading her journal. + +"Thief!" she exclaimed, covering the page with her little white hands, +"where did you find this?" + +"It attracted my notice this morning when I was packing your books for +removal," returned he. "I did not know I was so well loved before, +Florence," he added, with a provoking smile. + +"Look out that I do not cease to love you altogether," said she, shaking +her tiny finger playfully in his face, "if you steal into my private +affairs in this way. But come below now," she continued, taking his +hand; "uncle Ralph has arrived and waits to see you." + +They descended to the parlor, and after the pleasant evening was passed +and the guests severally departed, the hermit presented to his nephew +the fortune left him by his long-deceased father. It was much larger +than Edgar had ever supposed. He amply remunerated the care and +protection of his kind guardian, and besought him to forsake the +forest-hut and dwell beneath his grateful roof. But the recluse waived +the entreaties of the young, happy couple. + +He "could not desert his home in the cedars. It was the spot where the +most placid years of his life had been passed. He would frequently visit +the abode of Edgar, and also that of his lately-recovered sister, but +still chose to retain the wild-wood habitation as a retreat when +melancholy moods rendered him unfit for all society, and he could only +find consolation in the lone solitude of nature." + +So, with a fervent blessing on their bright young heads, he departed on +his solitary way to the distant forest. + +And the starry night stole on, while all was quiet and peaceful above +and around the mansion of "Summer Home." + + + + + THE LAST CHAPTER. + + "Let's part in friendship, + And say good-night." + + +Shadowy-vested romance, that whilom roamed the grassy paths and +flower-strewn ways of Wimbledon, is wrapping the heavy folds of her +dew-moistened mantle around her, and stealing silently away. Yet for a +moment let her turn a parting glance toward the motley groups which have +companioned her midnight rambles, and are seen passing in the distance +with their eyes fixed steadily on her receding form. + +Foremost in the crowding phalanx we mark the firm, upright figure of Mr. +Salsify Mumbles, and his commanding aspect and majestic tread assure us +that he has "risen in his profession" to the airy summit of his most +ambitious aspirations. We fancy another story has crowned his mansion, +and a second piazza stretched its snowy palings around its painted +walls. Beside him is his amiable wife, with the sweet baby Goslina, in a +robe of dimity, pressed close to her affectionate shoulder, quackling +softly as they pass along. + +Close behind is Mary Madeline and her tender spouse, a hand of each +given to their hopeful son, who, ever and anon, turns his mites of eyes +up to his parents' faces and utters a piercing squeal. + +Then Miss Martha Pinkerton comes primly on, with Mrs. Stanhope at her +side, who turns often with a friendly glance toward a happy-seeming +couple that walk apart, as if their chief enjoyment was in each other's +society. + +"You have rescued and redeemed me," whispered a manly voice in the ear +of the graceful figure which leaned so confidingly on his arm. + +"Let us forget the past and be happy," said his companion, lifting her +clear eyes to his eloquent face. + +Their forms faded from our vision, and the pleasant reverie into which +we were sinking to weave fair garlands, to crown their future years, was +rudely broken by a ranting bustle and confusion. Philanthropy was +sweeping past. + +Mrs. Pimble, in nankin bloomers, with pert Susey clinging to the hem of +her brief skirt, stalked on with angry stride, vociferating at the top +of her voice. + +Mrs. Lawson towered indignantly at her side, joining in wrathful +denunciations of the tyrant man; and fair, persecuted Dr. Simcoe's +assenting voice was faintly heard amid the fiendish shrieks of those +pestiferous younglings, Simcoe's children. + +We knew by their ireful aspects some dreadful peril had menaced the +cause of Woman's Rights, and while we gazed, their clamor increased to +furious yells of rage and defiance, and a dark, descending cloud hung +threateningly over their wrathful heads as they passed along. + +On their vanishing shadows Mr. Pimble clappered his heelless slippers, +with the long skirts of his palm-figured wrapper streaming on the air +behind him; like the grim ghost of manhood pursuing its flying +aggressors. + +Then Florence, like a beam of light, danced past on the arm of Edgar, +and a merry, laughing group followed quickly in their rear, among which +we recognized the tall, portly form of Major Howard, smiling benignly on +the happy faces around him. + +But we looked in vain for the thin, bowed figure of his grief-stricken +sister. There were two willow-shaded graves in the grass-grown +church-yard, and o'er them bent the spectre-like form of the Hermit of +the Cedars, his gray locks moistened by the falling night-dews, and his +pale face turned upward to the midnight stars with an expression of +mournful resignation. + +As the clock in the ivy-hung steeple tower rang forth its echoing chimes +on the odorous air, we cast one glance toward the swiftly-vanishing +groups, and silently turned away. + +Cold and bitter on our long-wrapped senses strike the harsh, blunt-edged +realities of every-day existence. The multiplied images which but +yesterday peopled our brain and thronged on our notice, have "departed +thence, to return no more." + +The last sound of their multitudinous voices has died in the distance, +and Wimbledon is to us as if it had never been. + + + + + SCRAGGIEWOOD; + + A + + TALE OF AMERICAN LIFE. + + + + + CHAPTER I. + + "Sweetly wild + Were the scenes that charmed me when a child; + Rocks, gray rocks, with their caverns dark, + Leaping rills, like the diamond spark; + Torrent voices thundering by, + When the pride of the vernal floods swelled high, + And a quiet roof, like the hanging-nest, + 'Mid cliffs, by the feathery foliage drest." + + +October's harvest-moon hung in the blue ether. Brightly fell her golden +beams on the tall, old forest trees, that pointed spar-like toward the +starry heaven, and down, through their interlacing branches, upon gray, +mossy rocks and uprooted trunks, over which wild vines wreathed in +untrained exuberance; and dim, star-eyed flowers reared their slender +heads among the rank undergrowth of bush and shrub. + +And here, in this primeval wildness, her silver beams revealed a low, +thatched cottage standing in a narrow opening. Its walls were built of +rough stones, piled one upon another in a rude, unartistical manner; and +the heavy turf roof, which projected far over the sides, was sunken and +overgrown with moss and lichens. + +From this rough dwelling proceeded tones of mirth and hilarity. How +strangely they sounded in the lone solitude of nature! Through an open +window might be seen a group, seated round a small table, consisting of +two young men, and an old woman in a high starched cap, with a huge pair +of iron-bowed spectacles mounted on her Roman nose. A child was sleeping +on a pallet in a corner of the room, and one of the young men passed the +candle a moment over the low cot, and, gazing intently on the sleeper, +asked in a lively, careless tone, + +"Sacri, Aunt Patty! is that your baby, or the fair spirit that unrolls +the destinies of mortals to your inspired vision?" + +"She is neither one nor t'other," answered the old woman. "Now please to +hold that candle up here close to my eyes." + +"But I want to know who that is asleep there; for I've a notion she is +more concerned in my destiny than anything you'll find in that old +teacup." + +"Heaven forbid!" exclaimed the woman musingly, as she continued to peer, +with a mystic expression of countenance, into a small and apparently +empty teacup, which she turned slowly round and round in her skinny +hand, muttering at intervals in an ominous undertone. + +"Well, Aunt Patty, out with it!" said the youth at length, tired of her +long silence. "Isn't it clear yet? Here's another bit of silver; toss +that in, and stir up again;" and he threw a shining half-eagle down on +the table. The woman's face brightened as she clutched it eagerly. + +"Come, now let's hear," continued the young man, "what's to be Mr. +Lawrence Hardin's destiny." + +"May be, if you saw all I see in this cup, you would not be so eager to +know its contents," said the crone in a boding voice. + +"What! Whew, old woman! croaking of evil when I've twice crossed your +palm with silver! This is too bad." + +"But don't you know the decrees of fate are unalterable?" said the +woman, solemnly. + +"O, law, yes! but I didn't know an old cracked saucer was so +formidable." + +"It is no saucer, sir; it is a cup, and your destiny is in it." + +"Ha, ha, ha!" laughed the other young man; "pretty well wound up, +Hardin, if your destiny is contained in a teacup." + +"Hush!" exclaimed the crone in an angry tone. "More than his or yours, +you noisy chatterer! The whole world's, I may say, is in the cup." + +"In the _pot_, you mean," said the youth, knocking with his bamboo +stick on the side of a small, black teapot, that stood at the old +woman's right hand. + +"Well, yes; in the pot, I should say, perhaps," added she in a softened +tone. + +"The world's destiny is in a teapot, and Aunt Patty Belcher pours it +forth at her pleasure; that's it;" and here they all joined in a hearty +laugh. + +"That will do," said Hardin at length; "now read off, good Dame Belcher. +Sumpter is digesting his fortune. Give me a more palatable one than +his." + +The old woman rubbed her long, peaked nose violently, and then raising +her eyes slowly to the young man's face, said, "Thou art ambitious, +Lawrence Hardin!" + +"Wrong there, most reverend sorceress!" exclaimed the one called +Sumpter. + +"Now, hark ye!" exclaimed the old crone; "I won't be interrupted. I +guess I know my own cups." + +"Be quiet, be quiet, Jack!" said Hardin. "Why will you be so +presumptuous as to gainsay a prophet's assertions! Go on, Aunt Patty; he +will not disturb you again." + +"Well, I tell you again," said the woman, casting a disdainful glance on +Sumpter, who had withdrawn to a chair at the foot of the cot-bed, and +was regarding attentively the tiny form lying there wrapped in tranquil +sleep, "I tell you _again_, you are ambitious. You want to be thought +great. You want to be first. You thirst for power for the sake of bowing +others to your will. You have rich parents _now_, and are surrounded by +all that heart could wish; but, mind ye, there's a dark cloud in the +rear. It threatens tempest and desolation. Soon your parents will be +dead, and you hurrying from your rich, splendid home to seek your +fortune in a distant country. You will seem to prosper for a while, and +then it blackens again. You can see yourself," she added, holding the +cup before the young man's face, "that black clump in the bottom." + +"I see only a few tea-grounds your turnings and shakings have settled +together," remarked he, carelessly. + +"Destiny placed them as they are, young men," said the hag, solemnly. + +"May be so," he added; "but tell me, how long shall I live? Shall I be +successful in love, and will my lady be handsome?" + +"Thou wilt live longer than thou wilt wish; ay, drag on many years when +thou wouldst fain be sleeping in the earth's cold bed! Thou wilt +love,--thou wilt marry, and thy lady will be beautiful as the day-star." + +"Enough, enough!" exclaimed the youth, starting to his feet. "Do you +hear, Jack? Is not mine a brave fortune? I shall love, marry, and my +wife will be a goddess of beauty." + +"Yes," said the crone; "but mark, she will not love you." + +"Whew! How is that? Not love me? And wherefore not, old woman?" + +"Because she will love another," repeated the hag in a low, but firm, +decided tone. + +"But you are spoiling your fair pictures, Aunt Patty," said Hardin. + +"Destiny is destiny," said she with a solemn look. + +"Ay, yes; I forgot!" he exclaimed, laughing gayly. "Come, Sumpter, let's +be off. I am afraid our good seeress will discover you and I fighting a +duel in that ominous cup, or brewing a tempest in her teapot." + +"Ha, ha, ha! it is not impossible," ejaculated Sumpter. "Now I believe +she did say I would go out of the world in a terrible uproar, shooting +somebody or getting shot myself. Which was it, dame?" + +"Time will tell you soon enough, young man," returned the woman, in an +angry, scornful tone. + +"O, don't be cross, good Aunt Patty!" he said, noticing her dark looks; +"don't mind my balderdash. Here's another piece of silver for you. Now, +good-night, and long live Scraggiewood and the seeress, Madam Belcher!" + +"Good-night, young men, and God bless ye, I say!" exclaimed the crone, +her eye brightening at sight of the silver. + +"Just tell me the name of the little sleeper," said Sumpter, lingering a +moment, while Hardin turned the carriage which had brought them to the +forest-cottage. + +"What do you want to know her name for?" asked Aunt Patty. + +"O, because she resembles a sister I lost," returned Sumpter after a +brief hesitation. + +"Well, it is my niece, Annie Evalyn." + +"Ah! she lives with you?" + +"Yes; ever since she was born a'most. Her father and mother died when +she was a baby." + +"Hillo, Sumpter!" said Hardin, from without, "trying to coax a prettier +sequel to your fortune? Come on!" + +Sumpter hurried forth, and the carriage rattled away over the rough road +of Scraggiewood. + + + + + CHAPTER II. + + "A holy smile was on her lip, + Whenever sleep was there; + She slept as sleep the blossoms hushed + Amid the silent air." + + +The sun was peeping through the crevices of the rock-built cottage when +old Dame Belcher, the fortune-teller, awoke on the following morning. + +"Well, about time for me to be stirring these old bones," she murmured. +"Good fees last night;" and here she drew a leather bag from beneath her +pillow, and chuckled over its contents; "these little siller pieces will +buy plenty of ribbons and gewgaws for hinny, so she can flaunt with the +best of them at Parson Grey's school. She was asleep here last night +when the young city chaps came, and don't know a word about their visit; +I carried her off in my arms to her own little cot, after they were +gone, and I'll creep into her room a moment now to see if she still +sleeps." + +Thus saying, the old woman slipped on her clothes, and, crossing a rude +entry, lightly lifted a latch and entered a small, poor, though very +tidy apartment. A broken table, propped against the rough, unplastered +wall, contained a bouquet of wild flowers tastefully arranged, and +placed in a bowl of clear water, some writing materials, and a few books +piled neatly together. A fragrant woodbine formed a beautiful +lattice-work over the rough-cut hole in the wall which answered for a +window. Two chairs covered with faded chintz, and a small cot-bed +dressed in white, completed the furnishing. On this latter, breathing +softly in her quiet sleep, lay a lovely child, on whose fair, open brow +eleven summers might have shed their roses. The old woman approached, +and with her wrinkled palms smoothed away the heavy masses of chestnut +hair that curled around her childish face. + +"Bless it, how it sleeps this morning!" she said, in a low whisper; "but +it must not have its little hands up here;" and she parted the tiny +fingers that were locked above the graceful head, and laid them softly +on the sleeper's breast. "I may as well go, while she sleeps so quietly, +and gather a dish of the crimson berries she loves so well, for her +breakfast; they will be nice with a dish of old Crummie's sweet milk;" +and, pinning a green blanket over her head, the old woman went forth on +her errand. + +Meantime the child awoke, and, seeing the sunbeams stealing through the +net-work of vines, and streaming so warm and bright over the rough, +stone floor, started quickly from her couch, and, robing herself in a +pink muslin frock, issued from her room, carolling a happy morning song. +She sat down on a bench before the door of the cottage, and in a few +moments her aunt appeared, bearing in one hand a white bowl filled with +purple berries, and in the other a bucket of milk, all warm and frothing +to the brim. + +"O, then you are up, hinny!" she said, on seeing the child; "just look +at what aunty has got for your breakfast. Now, you come in and pick over +the berries with your little, nice, quick fingers, and I'll spread the +table, strain the milk, and bake a bit of oaten cake, and we'll have a +meal fit for a king." + +The child obeyed readily, and soon the humble tenants of the rocky +cottage were seated at their simple repast. + +"I've some good news to tell you, Annie," said the woman, as she cut +open a light, oaten cake, and spread a slice of rich, yellow butter over +its smoking surface. + +"What is it, aunty?" asked the child. + +"There was two gentlemen here last night, after you fell asleep on my +bed here, and they gave me lots o' siller for reading their fortunes. +I've got it all here in the leather bag for you, hinny; 'twill buy +plenty of gay ribbons to tie your pretty hair." + +"O, I would not use it for that, aunty!" said Annie, quickly. + +"What then, child?" + +"For something useful." + +"And what so useful as to make my Annie look gayest of all the village +lasses?" + +"Why, that's no use at all, aunty; I shan't have one more pretty thought +in my head for having a gay ribbon on my hair. Use it, aunty, please, to +buy me some new books, so I can enter the highest class in school when +George Wild does. Mr. Grey says I can read and cipher as well as he, +though I am not so old by two years." + +"Well, well, hinny, it shall be as you wish; just like your father,--all +for books and learning,--though your mother leaned that way too. Yes, of +all our family she was always called the lady; and lady she was, indeed, +as fine as the richest of them; but poverty, Annie,--O, 'tis a sad thing +to be poor!" + +"We are not poor, aunty," said the child, pouring the sweet milk over +her berries; "only see what nice things we have! this rich milk old +Crummie gives us, and this golden butter, and these light, sweet cakes! +O, aunty! if you would only--only"--and she paused. + +"Only what, child?" asked the fond old woman. + +"But you won't be angry if I say it?" said the child, a conscious blush +suffusing her lovely features. + +"Angry with my darling! no." + +"Only not tell any more fortunes, aunty; then we should be so happy." + +"Not tell any more fortunes! What ails the child? Why, that's the way +half our living comes; and an easy way to earn it, too; much easier than +to sit and spin on the little linen wheel from morning till night." + +"Easier, but not so honorable, is it, aunty?" + +"Honorable! Yes, child; what put it into your pretty, curly head that it +was not honorable to read future events and take fees for it?" + +"Why, sometimes the girls and boys at school laugh and scorn at me, and +call me the old witch's brat, or the young Scraggiewood seeress, or some +such name," said the child, in a tone of sorrowful regret; "and I've +often wished you would not tell fortunes any more. Learn me how to use +the small wheel, aunty, and all the hours when I'm out of school, I'll +spin fast as I can. I know we could get a very good living without your +telling fortunes; don't you think so, aunty?" + +"Why, child, I never thought a word about it," said the old woman, +gazing on the beautiful face upturned to hers, and grown so earnest in +its pleading. + +"But you will think to-day, while I'm at school, won't you, aunty? I see +George coming for me, now;" and, moving her chair from the table, she +sprang for her satchel and sun-bonnet as her little play-fellow came +over the stile, calling her name. + +"You must have on your shoes this morning, hinny," said her aunt; "there +was a heavy dew last night, and the path is wet." + +"Yes," said George, "have them on, Annie, for I want you to go with me +by the brook to get some pretty eglantines I saw last night, nearly +bloomed; they are all out this morning, I know." + +Annie was soon equipped, and, with a hearty blessing from Aunt Patty, +they took their way hand in hand toward the village school. + + + + + CHAPTER III. + + "On sped the seasons, and the forest child + Was rounded to the symmetry of youth; + While o'er her features stole, serenely wild, + The trembling sanctity of woman's truth, + Her modesty and simpleness and grace; + Yet those who deeper scan the human face, + Amid the trial hour of fear or ruth, + Might clearly read upon its Heaven-writ scroll, + That high and firm resolve that nerved the Roman soul." + + +Through three bright summers had George Wild led Annie Evalyn over the +rough forest path to the village school. They were the only children +residing in Scraggiewood, and, therefore almost constantly together. How +they roamed through the dim old woods in search of moss and wild +flowers, and, in the autumn time, to gather the brown nuts of the +chestnut and beech trees; how many favorite nooks and dells they had, in +which to rest from their ramblings, and talk and tell each other of +their thoughts and dreamings of the life to come! But George would often +say he could not understand all Annie's wild words; he thought her +whimsical and visionary, and it pained him to find her ambitious and +aspiring as her years increased; he would fain have her always a child, +rapt in the enjoyment of the present hour, content and satisfied with +his companionship and aunt Patty's purple berries and oaten cakes, +believing the heaven that closed round Scraggiewood bounded the +universe; for something whispered to his heart, if she went forth into +the wide world, she would not return to him; and he loved her as well as +his indolent nature was capable of loving, and indeed would do a great +deal for her sake. She possessed more power to rouse him to action than +any other person, and she loved him, too, very well,--but very coolly, +very calmly, with a love that sought the good of its object at the +expense of self entirely, for she could bear to think of parting with +him forever, and putting the world's width between them, so he was +benefited and his usefulness increased by the proceeding. And he had +always been her companion and protector. Next to her aunty she ought to +love him; but his mind was not of a cast with hers; he could not +appreciate her dreamy thoughts and aspirations. He was content to fold +his arms, and be floated through life by the tide of circumstances, the +thing he was; but she could not be so; she must trim her sails and stem +the current; within her breast was a spirit that would not be lulled to +slumber, but impelled her incessantly to action; there was a quenchless +thirst for knowledge, unappeased, and it must be slaked. + +Mr. Grey, the kind village pastor, who had become deeply interested in +his young pupil during her attendance at the village school, offered to +take her under his charge, and afford her the privilege of pursuing a +course of study with his own daughter, Netta, with whom Annie had formed +a close friendship at school. Aunt Patty said she should be lost without +her "hinny," and George Wild remonstrated half angrily with her, for +going off to leave him alone; but all to no effect--Annie must go. + +"But why won't you go with me, George?" she asked, turning her liquid +blue eyes upon his sullen face. "Don't you want to gain knowledge, and +fame, and honor, in the great world, and perhaps some day behold +multitudes bowing in reverence at your feet?" + +"No, I want nothing of all this. I've knowledge enough now, and so have +you, if you would only think so. And, as for fame and honor, I believe +I'm happier without them, for I've often heard it remarked, 'increase of +knowledge is increase of misery.'" + +"Well, it is not the misery of ignorance," said Annie, proudly. "I am +astonished to hear such sentiments from you, George Wild. I had thought +you possessed a nobler, braver heart than to sit down here beneath the +oaks of Scraggiewood, and waste the best years of your life in sloth and +inaction." + +"Why, I've not been sitting alone, have I, Annie?" he asked with an +insinuating smile. + +"But you will sit here alone henceforth, if you choose to continue this +indolent life; childhood does not last forever; my child-life is over, +and I am going to work now, hard and earnest." + +"For what?" + +"_For something noble_; to gain some lofty end." + +"Well, I hope you'll succeed in your high-wrought schemes; but for my +part, I see no use in fretting and toiling through this life, to secure +some transitory fame and honor. Better pass its hours away as easily and +quietly as we can." + +"We should not live shrunk away in ourselves, but strive to do something +for the benefit and happiness of our species." + +"O, well, Annie! if to render others happy is your wish and aim, you +have but to remain here in your humble cottage home, and I'll promise +you you'll do that." + +"Why, George," said she, noticing his rueful countenance, "what makes +you look so woe-begone? As if I were about to fly to the ends of the +earth, when I'm only going two little miles to Parson Grey's Rectory, +and promise to walk to Scraggiewood every Saturday evening with you." + +"But I feel as if I was going to lose you, Annie, for all that; the +times that are past will never return." + +"No; but there may be brighter ones ahead," she answered, hopefully. + +George shook his head. None of her lofty aspirations found response in +his bosom; the present moment occupied his thoughts. So the common wants +of life were supplied, and he free from pain and anxiety, he was +content, nor wished or thought of aught beyond. The great world of the +future he never longed to scan, nor penetrate its misty-veiled depths, +and leave a name for lofty deeds and noble actions, that should vibrate +on the ear of time when he was no more. + +And thus drifted asunder on the great ocean of life the barks that had +floated on calmly side by side through a few years of quiet pleasure. +They might never spread their sails together again; wider and wider +would the distance grow between them; higher and higher would swell the +waves as they sped on their separate courses; the one light and buoyant +with her freight of noble hopes and dauntless steersman at the helm, the +other without sail or ballast, drifted about at the mercy of winds and +waves. + + + + + CHAPTER IV. + + "A gentle heritage is mine, + A life of quiet pleasure; + My heaviest cares are but to twine + Fresh votive garlands for the shrine + Where 'bides my bosom's treasure. + I am not merry, nor yet sad, + My thoughts are more serene than glad." + + +It was a lovely spot, that peaceful vicarage. Tall elms shaded the +sloping roof, and roses and jessamines poured their rich perfume on the +morning and evening air. Here two years of calm, tranquil enjoyment +glided over Annie Evalyn, as she, with unremitting assiduity, pursued +the path of science under the guidance of the good parson. Each day +fresh joys were opening before her, in the forms of newly-discovered +truths. Her faculties developed so rapidly as to astonish her tutor, +wise as he was in experience, and well-taught in ancient and modern +lore. + +"Annie," said he, one evening, as they sat together in the family +parlor, "what do you intend to do with all this store of knowledge you +are treasuring up with such eager application?" + +She looked up quickly in his face, and a flush for a moment passed over +her usually pale features. + +"I know what you would say," he added; "that you think no one can have +_too much_ knowledge--is it not?" + +"Do you think one can?" she asked. + +"Perhaps not too much well-regulated knowledge; knowledge adapted to an +efficient end and purpose." + +Again Annie turned her dark blue, expressive eye full upon his face. + +"I mean to put my little store of learning to good use," she said, +thoughtfully. + +"Well, so I supposed, Annie. What do you intend to do?" + +"Something great and good," she answered, her eye kindling with the +lofty thought within. + +"And could you accomplish but one, which should it be?" + +"Will not a great thing be a good one also?" she inquired. + +He shook his head. + +"That does not necessarily follow," he said; "that which is great may +not be good, but remember, Annie, what is _good_ will surely be +_great_." + +"I shall consider your words, dear sir," said Annie. "I am much indebted +to you for the privileges your kindness has afforded me, and hope some +day to be able to make a grateful recompense." + +"What I do is done freely, my child, and from a sense of duty. Do not +speak of recompense. Has not the companionship you have afforded my +little Netta, to say nothing of myself and sister Rachel, amply repaid +the small trouble your instruction has caused?" + +"But you forget in all this I am as much or more the recipient as the +giver. If Netta has found me a tolerable companion, I have found her a +charming one; and all yours and aunt Rachel's teachings--ah! I fear I'm +much the debtor after all," she said, shaking her head, doubtfully, and +smiling in her listener's face with artless simplicity and gratitude. + +"No, no, not a debtor, Annie," he said, stroking her bright curls; "I +cannot admit that. Let the benefits be mutual, if you will, nothing +more. I see Netta in the garden gathering flowers. She is a good little +girl, and loves you dearly, though she has none of the brilliancies that +characterize your mind. I do not intend to flatter; go now and join your +friend. I expect a party of western people to visit me to-morrow, and +have some preparations to make for their reception." + +Annie bowed, and glided down the gravelled path of the garden. In a +shady bower she found Netta, arranging a bouquet of laurel leaves and +snow-white jessamines. + +"O!" she exclaimed, looking up as Annie approached; "there you are, sis. +Now I'll twine you a wreath of these fragrant flowers." + +"And I'll twine one for you, Netta," said Annie. "Of what shall it be?" + +"Simple primroses or violets; these will best adorn my lowly brow; but +Annie, bright Annie Evalyn, shall wear naught but the proud laurel and +queenly jessamine;" and, giving a twirl to her pretty wreath, she tossed +it over her friend's high, marble-like brow, bestowing a playful kiss on +either cheek as she did so. + +"Does it sit lightly, Annie?" she asked. + +"Yes, Netta, and now bend in turn to receive my wreath of innocence, not +more pure and lovely than the brow on which it rests." + +Netta knelt, and the garland was thrown over her flaxen curls. Thus +adorned, the lovely maidens strolled up the avenue, arm in arm, and made +their way to the study-room, as it was called; a large, airy chamber +fronting the east, situated in a retired portion of the house, to be +removed from noise and intrusion. + +"Now you shan't study or write to-night, for who knows when we may have +another quiet evening together? These western friends of father's are +coming to-morrow, and our time and attention will be occupied with them. +I want to hear you talk to-night, Annie. Tell me some of your eloquent +thoughts, your glowing fancies. I'm your poor, little, foolish Netta, +you know." + +"You are my dear, dear friend," said Annie, throwing her arms +impulsively round the slender, graceful neck, and kissing the soft young +cheek. "I'm feeling sad and gloomy this evening, and fear I cannot +entertain you with conversation or lively chit-chat." + +"Tell me what makes you sad." + +"I don't know. Are you never sad without knowing the cause of your +gloomy feelings?" + +"No, I think not." + +"Well, I am. Often a shadow seems thrown across my spirit's heaven, but +I cannot tell whence it comes; the substance which casts the shade is +invisible. Who are these friends of your father's that are to visit us?" + +"O, they are a wealthy family with whom father became acquainted in the +circuit of his travels last season." + +"Their name?" + +"Prague, Dr. Prague, wife and daughter; also two young children, for +whom they are seeking a governess here in the east, as good teachers are +obtained with difficulty in their section of the country." + +"Ah!" said Annie, in a tone of voice so peculiar that Netta turned +involuntarily toward her. + +"O, Annie, Annie!" she exclaimed, and threw her arms round her friend's +neck. + +"What has so suddenly alarmed you?" asked Annie, endeavoring to soothe +her. + +"You won't go off with these strangers and leave us, will you, dear +Annie?" + +"Why, who is a visionary now, Netta?" she asked, laughing merrily; "what +put the thought of my going away into this pretty head, lying here all +feverish with excited visions? Pshaw, Netta, you are a whimsie!" + +"Then you won't go?" she said, her face brightening. "No thought of +becoming the governess this western family are seeking, and going away +with them, has entered your brain?" + +"Why should there, Netta?" + +"But would you say nay should you receive the offer?" + +"I can tell better when the moment arrives. But there, Netta, don't +cloud that fair brow again. I feel well assured no such moment will +come." + +"I'm not so sure, Annie." + +"Well, well, let us kiss, and retire to be ready to receive the visitors +on the morrow." + +And with a sisterly embrace they sought their private apartments. + + + + + CHAPTER V. + + "O, show me a place like the wild-wood home, + Where the air is fragrant and free, + And the first pure breathings of morning come + In a gush of melody. + When day steals away, with a young bride's blush, + To the soft green couch of night, + And the moon throws o'er, with a holy hush, + Her curtain of gossamer light." + + +Alone Annie Evalyn was walking in the summer twilight over the rough +road toward Scraggiewood. + +Near two months had elapsed since she last visited her Aunt Patty at the +rock-built cottage, and she pictured in her mind, as she walked on, the +surprise and good-natured chiding which would mark her old aunt's +reception. She gazed upward at the tall forest trees swaying to and fro +in the light evening breeze, and far into its dim, mazy depths, where +gray rocks lay clad in soft, green moss, and gnarled, uprooted trunks +overgrown with clinging vines, and pale, delicate flowers springing +beautiful from their decay. She listened to the murmuring of the brook +in its rocky bed, and a thousand memories of other years rushed on her +soul. The strange, fast-coming fancies that thronged her brain when she +in early childhood roamed those dark, solemn woods, or sat at night on +the lowly cottage stile, gazing on the wild, grotesque shadows cast by +the moonbeams from the huge, forest trees; or how she listened to the +solemn hootings of the lonesome owl, the monotonous cuckoo, and sudden +whippoorwill; or laughed at the glowworm's light in the dark swamps, and +asked her aunty if they were not a group of stars come down to play +bo-peep in the meadows. + +And then she thought of George Wild, her early playfellow. He was away +now, in a distant part of the country, whither he had been sent by his +father to learn the carpenter's trade. He had come to bid her good-by +with tears in his eyes, not so much at parting from _her_, she fancied, +as from dread of the active life before him. It would be hard to tell +whether Annie felt most pity or contempt for his weakness. He was the +only friend of her early childhood, and, _as_ such, she had still a +warm, tender feeling at her heart for him; and, had he possessed a +becoming energy and manliness of character, this childish feeling might +have deepened into strong, enduring affection as years advanced. But +Annie Evalyn could never love George Wild as he _was_; and thus she +thought as she brushed away a tear that had unconsciously started during +her meditations, and found herself at the door of her aunt's cottage. +She bounded over the threshold and into the old lady's arms, bestowing a +shower of kisses ere poor Aunt Patty could sufficiently collect herself +and recover from the surprise to return her darling's lavish caresses. + +"Ah, yes, you naughty little witch! here you are at last, pretending to +be mighty glad to see your old aunty, though for two long months you've +never come near her. But, bless it, how pretty it grows! and how red its +cheeks are, and how bright its eyes!" she exclaimed, brushing away the +curling locks and gazing into her darling's face. + +"But you'll forgive me, aunty, won't you?" said Annie, coaxingly. +"Indeed, I meant to have come long before; but if you only knew how much +I have had to occupy my time,--so many things to learn, and such hard, +hard lessons." + +"O, yes! always at your books, studying life away." + +"Why, aunty! you just exclaimed how fresh and blooming I was grown, and +I've something so nice to tell you. There are some wealthy people from +the west visiting at Parson Grey's, and they were in search of a +governess for their little children. Would you think it, aunty, their +choice has fallen upon me? and I am to accompany them on their return +home. They have a daughter about my own age, sweet Kate Prague. She will +be a fine companion--I love her so dearly now." + +Aunt Patty dropped her arms by her side, and remained silent after Annie +had ceased speaking. + +"What is the matter, aunty?" asked she, eagerly. + +"And so you, young, silly thing, are going to leave your friends and go +off with these strangers, that will treat you nobody knows how. Annie! +Annie! does Parson Grey approve of this?" + +"Yes, aunty; he thinks it will be a fine opportunity for me to see +something of the world, and learn the arts and graces of polite +society." + +"Ah! but these great, rich folks are often unkind and overbearing, and +oppress and treat with slight and scorn their dependents." + +"O, Mr. Grey knows this family well, and recommends them in the highest +terms." + +"Well, for all that, I can't bear the thought of losing you. So young +and ignorant." + +"Ignorant, aunty? Why, Dr. Prague himself says I know twice as much as +his daughter Kate." + +"Ah! book-learnin' enough; but I will tell you, Annie, a little +experience is better than all your books." + +"Well, how am I to obtain experience but by mingling in the world, and +learning its manners and customs?" + +"Ah, dear! I fear you will find this world, you are so anxious to see +and know, is a hard, rough place." + +"Well, aunty, don't dishearten me at the outset. See what a nice box of +honey I've brought you from Aunt Rachel Grey. Some of it will be +delightful on your light batter cakes, with a slice of old Crummie's +yellow butter. I must go out and bid the dear old creature good-by. How +I used to love to drive her to the brook for water!" + +"Ah, those were happy days for me, Annie!" said the old woman, +sorrowfully. "I shall never see the like again." + +"Don't say so, aunty," said Annie, her own heart experiencing a thrill +of anguish at the prospect of leaving her old forest-home, and kind, +loving protector. "I shall return some day, may be rich and famous, and +_good_, too, I hope; for Parson Grey says 'tis better to be good than +great." + +"God grant all your bright visions may be realized, Annie!" said the +aunt fervently. + +"Now, while you prepare our evening meal, I'll run out and look at some +of my old haunts," said Annie, forcing back a tear, and trying to assume +a cheerful countenance. + +So she wandered forth, while the grief-stricken woman spread the simple +board; but she could not relish the clear, dripping honey-comb sent by +the kind Aunt Rachel, and long after Annie slept in her little cot-bed, +did the old lady kneel over her sleeping form, weeping and praying for +her darling child. Annie spent the ensuing day with her aunt at the +cottage, and toward evening took a tearful leave, and bade adieu to +Scraggiewood. + + + + + CHAPTER VI. + + "And there was envy in her look, + And envy in her tone, + As if her spirit might not brook, + A rival near the throne." + + +"But don't you see, Dr. Prague, it won't do at all to admit her into +society on the same footing with our Catherine? For my part I don't see +how you could, for a moment, harbor so low an idea." + +In a far away period of time, the present honorable Mrs. Dr. Prague +had--shall we write it?--cut shoe-strings in her father's shop, and why +should not she be a competent judge of the low and common, since +experience is regarded as the "best teacher" in _almost_ all matters +beneath the sun? + +"I say," she reiterated, finding her remark elicited no response from +her worthy husband, "Annie Evalyn is not to be compared to our +Catherine." + +"I'm aware of that," was the answer in a dry tone. + +"And don't you notice how the minx tries to put on the lady?" + +"Not at all, madam; why should she strive to assume what is her natural +garb?" + +"Now really, Hippe, you are getting incorrigible." + +"Hippe" was a term of endearment, Mrs. Dr. Prague was accustomed to +apply to her husband when she wished to be very killing and +condescending, his Christian name being Hippocrates. + +To this winning speech, however, the insensate Dr. vouchsafed no reply; +so his lovely wife tacked about and said, "Well, Dr., to come to the +point, this governess is a dangerous rival for your daughter." + +"I know it," responded the good man, cutting up an orange, and passing a +silver plate containing several slices to his fair lady; "here, Mrs. +Prague, do regale yourself on this luscious fruit. It is the finest I +have tasted this season." + +"Dr. Prague, when I am discussing matters of importance, I do not wish +to be insulted by such frivolities." + +"Indeed, madam," said the doctor, withdrawing the plate, and proceeding +leisurely to the gratification of his own palate. + +There was a silence of some minutes, and then the lady, after fidgeting +and arranging the folds of her brocade silk, resumed the conversation by +saying, in a huffy tone, "May I inquire what you intend to do about it, +sir?" + +"Begging your pardon, madam," said the doctor, looking up from his +orange, "of what were you speaking?" + +The lady frowned frightfully at this fresh instance of his inattention +to her discourse. + +"I only wished to know if you thought of marrying Frank Sheldon to Annie +Evalyn, in preference to your own daughter," she exclaimed, in a biting, +sarcastic tone. The _matter_ but not the _manner_ of this speech seemed +to rouse the doctor's attention. + +"Frank Sheldon! Frank Sheldon!" he said quickly; "has he arrived from +his travels then?" + +"No, but he _will_ arrive some time." + +"O, yes, I trust so! But speaking of Annie,--_our_ Annie you know, for +I'm proud that we have such a treasure beneath our roof----" + +"Dr. Prague! are you mad? A paltry governess a treasure! I consider it a +shame and disgrace to our house, that a poor, low, dependent, is allowed +an equality in the family, and admitted through our influence to the +first classes in society. And I'm not the only one that marks the +shocking impropriety. My son-in-law, Lawrence Hardin, is possessed of a +discerning eye. He sees Kate loses wherever that girl is admitted." + +This speech was accompanied by immoderate vehemence, and energetic +gestures, but it failed to produce the slightest effect upon the +phlegmatic doctor, who, having finished his orange, settled himself +comfortably in his easy-chair, and took a cigar and the morning paper to +assist his digestion. + +"Thirteen increase from last week. I declare, our city is growing +sickly," he said, as his wife closed her oratorical harangue; "but, +speaking of Annie again, she has a poetical gem in one of our popular +magazines this week, which I find accompanied by a complimentary note +from the editor. She writes under a _nom de plume_, but I discovered +her. Have you read any of her writings, Mrs. Prague?" + +"_Her_ writings! the bold, impertinent hussy! No, nor do I wish to. But +if I'm to be entertained with this sort of conversation, I'll go down to +my son-in-law, Esq. Hardin's; and there I'm sure to pass an agreeable +day. Nothing low ever tarnishes his discourse." + +"Do so, madam," said the imperturbable husband; "undoubtedly they will +appreciate the honor of your presence." + +And with a disdainful toss the lady flouted out of the room, leaving the +good doctor to the undisturbed enjoyment of his cigar and papers. + +Annie Evalyn had been nine months an inmate of Dr. Prague's mansion, +when the preceding scene was enacted. Some of that experience which Aunt +Patty had pronounced "better than book learnin'," had fallen to her +share. So far from her beauty and accomplishments winning friends and +good-will, they had only seemed to provoke the sneers and invidious +remarks of those who envied her superior attractions. She had seen the +contemptuous curl of the lip, and heard the epithet, "low-born +creature." She had bitterly learned that genius and beauty are not the +current coins of society; and she sometimes thought the old adage, +"Knowledge is power," would read truer, "Money is power." But though she +had dark hours, her young heart's courage had not failed. Still the +unalterable purpose was firm, to be active, to be striving for fame, +honor and good repute. Latterly she had turned her attention to literary +subjects, and produced several pieces that received warm commendation +from the press. + +Annie had been but a few weeks in her new residence, ere her quick eye +discerned that Mrs. Prague looked upon her with envy and jealousy, and +she endeavored to conciliate the lady's esteem by gentleness and +condescension; but all efforts were vain. She persisted in her coldness +and perversity. This was so unpleasant to Annie that she several times +signified her readiness to leave when her presence was no longer +desired; but the old doctor, who was her most zealous advocate, declared +he should go distracted if she left them. Kate cried and the children +howled in terror at the prospect of such a calamity. Mrs. Prague looked +lofty and said, "Miss Evalyn was a trusty governess, and they might +increase her salary if she thought it insufficient." + +"Double it, if she says so," said the doctor; "but money can't reward +services like hers. How could you pay the sun for illuminating your +drawing-rooms, Mrs. Prague?" + +And Mrs. Prague darted an angry glance, and said she would go down to +her son-in-law's. + + + + + CHAPTER VII. + + "To love's sweet tones my heart shall never thrill; + Nor, as the tardy years their circles roll, + Shall they the ardor of its pulses chill." + + +Reclining on a silken sofa, in a luxurious apartment, was a lady in the +prime of youth and beauty. She was robed in a white, wrought-muslin +gown, and her glossy ringlets lay in dark relief on its snowy folds. She +was reading at intervals from a small gilt volume, but with a wandering +listlessness of manner, as though it were a weary effort to fix her +attention upon its contents. + +This was the wife of Lawrence Hardin, Esq., one of the most wealthy, +influential men in that part of the country. He arrived there from the +east a few years before, bringing a large fortune, which he came in +possession of by the sudden death of his parents. He embarked largely in +speculations, and was very successful; in consequence of which, the +mercantile class in their most critical junctures looked up to him as a +superior and safeguard. He soon grew to be a man of great power and +influence, and in the full tide of prosperity bore away the beautiful +Marion Prague, the reigning belle of the city, as his bride. There was a +rumor afloat that the match afforded the fair lady but meagre +satisfaction, and that her taste and wishes were not much consulted in +the matter; but the angry importunities of her proud, self-willed mother +at length induced her to marry a man she did not love. But this idle +report was hushed after their marriage, and the devotion of the young +couple loudly descanted on in fashionable circles throughout the city; +for was not Hardin all attention, and how could she avoid loving so fine +a fellow? So the world called it a nice match, and passed on. Let us +pause for a glance behind the scenes. + +A slight tap at the door of that elegant boudoir, and then it swung +softly on its gilded hinges, and a gentleman, richly dressed, with +shining hat, dark broadcloth over-coat, and a light bamboo stick in his +neatly-gloved hand, entered and approached the couch on which the lady +reclined. He was rather above the medium height, of commanding figure, +with jetty hair and mustaches and deep-set, piercing black eyes. Laying +aside hat and gloves, he sat down by the sofa, and commenced playfully +poking the long, wavy ringlets that lay on the crimson damask pillow +with the gold tip of his tiny walking-cane. She had resumed her book on +his first appearance, and continued to peruse its pages. She did not +look toward him, or speak, and it was evident, from a slightly-clouded +brow, that his presence rather annoyed than pleased her. + +This was Lawrence Hardin and lady in the privacy of their own apartment. + +"Why don't you speak to me, Marion?" he asked, at length. + +No answer, and the brow grew darker. He bent over her, and endeavored to +take the book from her hand. She tightened her grasp for a moment to +resist his efforts, and then, suddenly relaxing her hold, turned toward +the wall. + +He gazed on her several moments with a mingled expression of anger and +wounded tenderness, and then turned away. + +Half an hour later the young wife met her husband in the breakfast-room, +and presided with benign and gracious dignity over his well-laid table; +inquired "if Esq. Hardin found the chocolate and sardines to his +relish;" and he extolled Mrs. Hardin's excellent superintendence of +domestic affairs; said business in his office would detain him from her +till the dinner hour, and, expressing a hope that she might pass the +morning agreeably, bowed himself out of the presence of his lovely wife, +who replied to his civilities courteously, and even smiled brightly at +his parting nod at the hall door. And the servants in attendance saw and +listened; and reported, and enlarged on the "wonderful love" and +happiness of their young master and mistress. So this _nice match_ was +noised abroad over the whole city, and a hundred families envied the +domestic felicity of Esq. Hardin and wife. O, the endless masquerade of +life! + +Several weeks later the unloved husband entered his young lady's +apartment. She stood before the dressing-table, arranging her hair for +the evening. She cast a brief glance toward him, and then proceeded +quietly with her toilet. The chilling indifference wounded him acutely, +and he addressed her rather hastily: "Marion, do you think I shall +always have patience?" + +"I don't know, I'm sure," she answered, carelessly; "but of what do you +complain? Do I not perform the duties of your mansion in a manner to +satisfy your fastidious tastes?" + +"Don't mock or trifle," he said, bitterly. "I'm not a machine, or an +automaton, and I want something more than my servants, my drawing-room +and table well attended, to satisfy my heart." + +"You knew I did not love you when you married me." + +"Yes, but I did _not_ know that you hated me." + +"Nor did I." + +"And what have I done since to incur your detestation?" + +"Nothing." + +"Well, then, will you treat me with a little less of this freezing +coldness and scorn when we are alone together?" + +Tears started in those beautiful eyes, and he advanced to embrace her, +but she motioned him away. No, they were not there for him. She +struggled a few moments, and then, uncovering her face, said calmly: + +"Sit down, Lawrence; I will endeavor to comply with your wishes." + +He drew a damask fauteuil opposite the one on which she was reclining, +and sank among its downy cushions. The rays of the setting sun streamed +into the richly-furnished apartment and fell upon the two occupants. + +"What news in the city, to-day?" inquired Marion, at length. + +"Nothing particularly interesting, I believe," he answered. "I was at +your father's to-night; they are making preparations for a large party +next week, given in honor of Frank Sheldon's arrival." + +Some noise in the street at this moment attracted his attention, and he +rose to look forth. When he turned again, he beheld his wife lying on +the carpet pale and cold as marble. + + + + + CHAPTER VIII. + + "Strange scenes will often follow on abrupt surprise." + + +Annie Evalyn was alone in her apartment. A servant had just left a small +package, and she was now occupied with its contents. First was a letter +from the good parson, full of fatherly advice and admonition; then one +from Netta, a sheet written full, in a neat, delicate hand, describing a +visit to Aunt Patty's cottage, and a score of messages enumerated which +the old lady had desired transmitted to her "dear hinny," as she still +called Annie. "Tell her I don't tell fortunes now, for I know she will +like to hear that; because once I remember she said, 'I wouldn't tell +fortunes, aunty, for I don't think it is respectable.' So tell her I +earn a good living by spinning on my little wheel, and try to be happy +thinking she is so. But, sometimes, when the wind howls through the deep +woods, I can't help feeling lonesome, and think, if Annie were only here +to sing some of her pretty songs, how cheery the old walls would look! +And tell her, if she should ever grow tired and heart-sick in the midst +of the world's fashions and splendors, the old thatched roof in +Scraggiewood will joy to shelter her; and the old heart here will warm +and love her into life and happiness again." + +Annie felt the tears come as she read, for she had often of late +experienced a longing wish for a gentle friend in whom to confide and +trust. + +Now Netta spoke of their home at the vicarage. "It was lonesome yet," +she said, "and the old study had never worn a cheerful aspect since its +good genius departed. Father and Aunt Rachel spoke of bright-faced Annie +every day; but most of all _she_ missed the dear, loving companion when +she retired to her chamber at night." And then she wrote, "Your old +friend George Wild, has returned quite a changed being, I assure you. I +think you must have infused some of your energy and action into his +nature, for he has become an active business man. He works at his trade +in the village, and I see him frequently. We have long, cosey chats +about you, Annie." Annie laughed as she read. + +"Dear little Netta!" she exclaimed, "I see through it all; it is clear +as day. But I'm willing you should use my name, darling, to subserve +your timidity. I'll answer this sweet letter this morning. I'm alone, +and now is a good time." + +She looked about for her writing-materials, and suddenly remembered she +had left them in the school-room the evening previous. As she lightly +descended the stairs, the bell rang, and the hall door being open, she +came in full view of a gentleman standing on the marble steps e'er she +was aware, and in another moment he was at her side, exclaiming, + +"Astonishing! Is it possible? Can this be Kate Prague?" + +Annie blushed as she perceived his mistake, and hastened to rectify it. + +"I am not Miss Prague," she said, "but a member of the family at +present. I think I have the honor of addressing Mr. Sheldon." He bowed +gracefully. + +"The ladies are gone out for a short drive this morning. Will you be +pleased to wait their return in the drawing-room?" + +He accepted the invitation and entered the apartment, offering, as he +did so, an apology for his mistake, which she acknowledged with another +rising blush. + +"I think Dr. Prague received intelligence last evening that you would +not arrive till next week," she remarked, as they were seated in the +parlor. "Had they expected you sooner, I'm sure they would have been at +home to receive you." + +"I did send a letter to that effect," he said; "but the improved +facilities of travelling have enabled me to reach the city sooner than I +anticipated." + +A silence ensued. Annie felt ill at ease. She had received many hints of +the lofty, aristocratic notions of Frank Sheldon. She knew him to be +wealthy, and the prospective lover of Kate Prague; that is, Kate had +informed her that "Marion had been first designed for him; but by some +means that plan failed, and then mother married her to Hardin, and +Sheldon was left for her. She supposed she should marry him some time, +though she did not care a fig for him, he was so grave, and always +talking on literary subjects which she could not understand and +therefore mortally abhorred." + +All this passed quickly through Annie's mind, and, rising, she said she +"thought the ladies would soon return; perhaps he could amuse himself +with the contents of the centre-table a brief while." + +"O, yes!" he said politely. "I can ever pass time agreeably with books +and paintings." She courtesied and retired to her own apartment. "What a +vision of loveliness!" he mentally exclaimed when left alone. "I wonder +if Kate Prague is half so beautiful. Who can this lady be?" + +A carriage now rattled up to the door, and the ladies came bundling into +the apartment. He suddenly recollected he was there unannounced, but +what could he do? + +"Bless me! Mercy! Why, Mr. Sheldon here, and nobody to receive him! What +must he think?" exclaimed Mrs. Prague, in a tone of astonishment. + +"I'm most concerned, my good madam," said he, advancing, for what you +must think to find me so unceremoniously ensconced in your +drawing-room." + +"Don't say a word about that," was the answer. "Was not this once your +home? I hope you will still regard it in that light. Kate, come forward; +here is Mr. Sheldon. I declare, what a delightful surprise!" The old +doctor now entered, and burst into a torrent of welcome on beholding +Sheldon. + +"How did you get here, my boy," he asked, "to steal upon us so slyly, +when I received a letter only yesterday saying you would not reach us +before next week?" + +Sheldon explained briefly. When he mentioned that a young lady had +escorted him to the parlor, and invited him to await the family's +return, a visible frown lowered over Mrs. Prague's before smiling +countenance, and she and Catherine soon excused themselves to prepare +for dinner. + + + + + CHAPTER IX. + + "But, ah! if thou hadst loved me--had I been + All to thy dreams that to mine own thou art." + + +On a dim, gray morning in early winter, Lawrence Hardin sat by the couch +of his wife, her thin, wasted hand lying unconsciously in his, and her +quick, heavy breathings moving the dark locks of his hair, as he bent +low over her sleeping form. Three months had passed since that fainting +scene, and the young wife had encountered a long, severe stroke of +illness. The husband watched incessantly by her bed-side, for he would +not suffer her wild, fevered ravings to be heard by other ears than his +own. + +It was all revealed to him. He knew he had married a woman whose heart +was another's, and that she had been compelled to the step by the +threats and vehemence of her mother. + +O, how the strong man writhed in his agony! To know Marion did not love +him, was enough to endure; but to know she loved another, ah! that was +madness. His passions were roused to fury, yet not on _her_ should they +wreak their vengeance. No; on the man that had stolen her love from him, +or rather the man on whom she had bestowed her love, Frank Sheldon. On +his devoted head should the vengeance fall. + +Thus he resolved, but kept his fell design buried in his own breast, +and, by an engaging exterior, sought to lure his victim into his toils. + +Sheldon was a brave, generous fellow. Left early an orphan, he had been +reared in the family of Dr. Prague, who was instituted guardian of the +large fortune left by his parents. He was endowed by nature with fine +intellectual abilities, and an exquisite taste for the grand and +beautiful in nature and art, and, during three years' travel in foreign +parts, had so improved upon these natural advantages, as to stand +acknowledged one of the most elegant and accomplished young men of his +country. But it often happens that such high-wrought natures are but +poorly versed in the plodding concerns of this nether world. And thus it +was with him. Alive to every lofty feeling and generous impulse, he +fancied others like himself. Low cunning and artifice were unknown to +his bosom, and consequently he would fall the easier victim to Hardin's +scheme of revenge. + +And now there came another fact to this base man's knowledge. Sheldon +had not only robbed him of Marion's affections, but had won and slighted +Kate Prague, to fall in love with Annie Evalyn. Worse still, the passion +was mutual. That _he_ saw and knew long before the parties themselves +had acknowledged the growing love in the still depths of their own +beating hearts, much more given voice to the feeling in words. + +Love is so blind, and shy, and unbelieving, the poets tell us. Had +Sheldon's love met no response, then Hardin's revenge had been in part +gratified; but now it was only whetted to a keener edge, for he saw, or +fancied he saw, not only his rival's happiness, but the sister of the +woman he loved pining from an unrequited affection. + +As he revolved these dark thoughts in his vile breast, the hand he held +moved suddenly, and the sleeper murmured in her dreams. He bent his ear +eagerly to catch the sound, but it was gone. He smoothed the damp, dark +locks away from the pale brow, and gazed on her thin, attenuated +features--yet more beautiful, they seemed to him, than in the ruddy glow +of health. O that she would open her eyes and gaze up tenderly into his! +And when she was able to sit in a soft-cushioned chair, robed in a snowy +dressing-gown, and propped with pillows, receiving his attentions with +such a pretty shyness and distrust; or a few weeks later, when, still +more recovered, leaning so coyly on his arm to wander over her splendid +mansion again, and looking so timidly in his face, as if, now her secret +was known, she had no right to claim or expect tenderness from him;--all +this reserve made her so much dearer, and he thought, if she would but +give him one little look of love, he would even forget his meditated +revenge on Sheldon. + +But, ah! he looked in vain for lurking love in those cold, beautiful +eyes. There was submission,--there was gratitude; but what were those? + +Again the fashionable world said, "Esq. Hardin and lady are more devoted +than ever;" and they congratulated Mrs. Dr. Prague on the _nice match_ +she had secured for her daughter Marion. And the haughty, vain mother +exulted, for she was a superficial observer of human nature, and could +not, or _would_ not, see the wasting woe that was preying on her +daughter's health and beauty. + +It was a gay season at the doctor's mansion. Sheldon's arrival was the +signal for a round of entertainments among the élite of the city; for, +be it known, there were others than good Mrs. Prague anxious to secure +so eligible a match for their daughters, as the handsome, rich and +gifted Frank Sheldon. A manoeuvring mother! reader, hast ever seen +one? And if so, dost know of another so contemptible thing in the whole +broad realm of the low, sordid and despicable? + +The good old doctor, with his usual obstinacy, insisted that Annie +Evalyn should make one of all the parties of amusement; and, in truth, +Sheldon was quite as anxious to secure her society as was the doctor to +"set her forward," as Mrs. Prague expressed it. That lady was +exceedingly vexed and mortified at the turn matters were taking; but +Kate, partaking largely of her father's easy nature, seemed as merry and +well-pleased as though Sheldon had fallen in love with her, instead of +Annie Evalyn; for it began to be whispered in the upper circles that +"Dr. Prague's pretty governess had captivated the fascinating Sheldon." +Many ugly grimaces distorted the proper faces of marriageable daughters; +and captious, ill-natured remarks were indulged in by disappointed +maidens, who had beggared their fathers' pockets to purchase silks and +satins, jewels and diamonds, to carry by storm the heart of the elegant, +accomplished Frank Sheldon. + +Alas for human hopes and expectations! And what a perverse, capricious, +wilful little fellow is this god of love, whom we all worship and make +offerings to in one form or another! Why, he never goes where he should; +that is, you may hang him a dome, with golden draperies, stud the walls +with pearls and rubies, put a divinity there, beautiful as the fabled +houris, and robed in eastern magnificence, with discretion's self to +open the portal and invite his entrance; still, he goes not in. A +humming-bird around a rose has caught his vagrant eye, and he is off to +follow its roamings from flower to flower. Was ever such an improvident, +self-willed creature as this boy, Cupid? + + + + + CHAPTER X. + + "It is an era strange, yet sweet, + Which every woman's heart hath known, + When first her bosom learns to beat + To the soft music of a tone; + That era, when she first begins + To know what love alone can teach, + That there are hidden depths within + Which friendship never yet could reach." + + +Annie Evalyn was alone in her room, a second time, sitting down to +answer her friend Netta's letter. It was the first leisure she had known +in several weeks, and she would hardly have commanded it now, but that +Sheldon was gone to conclude an extensive land contract, into which he +was entering with Lawrence Hardin; allured by flattering representations +of the immense emolument sure to result from these speculations, when +emigration should raise to an untold value the worth of those extensive +tracts, then lying wild and uncultivated through those western +countries. + +Dr. Prague had also advised him to the course, regarding it as the +easiest method of keeping good the fortune of Sheldon, whose choice of +literature as a profession tended rather to diminish than increase his +coffers. And so he embarked his all with Hardin; and all thought him +sure to succeed in the enterprise, with so far-seeing and judicious a +partner to counsel and direct. + +We return to Annie. She had opened her portfolio, and placed before her +a pure, virgin page. Twirling the enamelled top from her inkstand, and +fastening a gold pen to a pearl-wrought handle, she commenced her task. + + "I scarcely know what to say, dear Netta; there are so many thoughts + crowded on my brain for utterance, that I can scarcely decide what + it is best to say, and what leave unsaid. One thing I feel sure of, + that whatever is imparted in confidence, will remain safe in your + trusty bosom; and O, how blessed am I, in the possession of such a + friend! Would you were here beside me this evening, your arm clasped + tenderly about my neck, your dear, earnest eyes looking in mine. + But, alas! we are far asunder. Your sweet letter brought many vivid + pictures before my mind of the happy hours passed in that study + room, and, still further back, that childhood in the rocky cottage + of Scraggiewood. Tell aunty, I still love to call her as in my + childish days, and hope the time is not very far distant when I may + run into her arms for a hearty kissing. + + "But, Netta, I know you are all eagerness to hear what I'm doing + here; how I speed on my aspiring way, and what is my progress toward + the temple of fame it was e'er my proudest wish to enter. + + "Alas, Netta! I'm ashamed to say the indefatigable Annie Evalyn has + relapsed her energies, has faltered in her pursuit of glory, and + surrendered herself to the enjoyment of the passing hour. And yet I + was never so happy as now; no, never in my life. To love and to be + loved; dear sis, do you know what it is? If not, no words of mine + can tell you. Frank Sheldon has never told me his heart was mine, + but it is a poor love that needs words to express it, I fancy. He is + rich, handsome and honored; yet it is not for these I love him, but + because his tastes and feelings are in unison with mine. + + "But, Netta, I have to endure some ill will, and cold looks, which + detract from my happiness. A share of that experience aunty declared + 'better than books,' has been taught my hopeful nature, and often do + I think of your kind father's tender admonitions. + + "Adieu, dearest; I've told my tale in brief. I need not say, guard + it well. + + "You have seen some of my simple productions in the magazines, and + are pleased to think well of them, for which I thank you kindly. I'm + writing none at present. With love to all, I am, + + "Truly, + + "ANNIE." + +The letter was folded and directed as she heard a voice in the hall +calling her name. It was Sheldon's; and a bright smile irradiated her +features, as, throwing aside the writing materials, she prepared to go +down. He met her on the stairs. + +"I couldn't find you anywhere," he said, "and the parlors were dark and +cold as midnight. Where have you been and how occupied all the while +I've been away winding up that tiresome contract with Hardin?" + +"In my room, writing a letter to a friend," she answered, with a +pleasant smile, as he was leading her through the several parlors, to +fix on one exactly suited to his taste. + +"Writing?" said he, reproachfully; "O, Annie!" + +"Why, what of that?" she asked. + +"O, nothing, I suppose; but I can't endure to think you can sit down, +cold and calm, when I'm away, and indite your thoughts on paper. I can +neither read, write, nor think, without you, Annie." + +She blushed at these words. + +"Come," he continued, drawing her close to his side; "I need not tell +you I love you, Annie, for that you know already; but you can render me +very happy, by speaking one little word in answer to a question I want +to ask." + +Still blushing and turning away her eyes, and he gazing so eloquently +upon her downcast features. + +"Will you speak it, Annie?" + +"Let me hear the question," she said. + +He inclined his head and whispered in her ear. She placed her hand in +his, and he looked most happily answered as he wound his arm round her +waist and pressed the little hand close to his heart. + +There was a band of wandering musicians playing in the street, and he +led her to the casement. She leaned lightly against his shoulder, and +thus they stood there listening to the music. It was rough enough, and +could hardly have pleased at any other time; but it sounded like the +symphonies of angels to them now. O, what divine strains! But the melody +was all in their own hearts. The screeching wheels of a dirt cart would +have failed to strike a dissonance upon their ears; for all nature +rolled on in linked harmony to them; they fancied they were very near +heaven, and so they were; they thought they could not be much happier if +they were really there, and it is doubtful if they could. + +Thus wrapped in their new-found happiness, let us leave with prophetic +good-night. + + + + + CHAPTER XI. + + "So fails, so languishes, grows dim and dies, + All that this world is proud of. From their spheres + The stars of human glory are cast down. + Perish the roses and the flowers of kings, + Princes and emperors, and the crowns and palms + Of all the mighty, withered and consumed. + Nor is power long given to lowliest innocence + Long to protect her own." + + +"Hardin, don't you remember the old fortune-telling hag that used to +keep office in a heap of rocks in that deuced rough hole called +Scraggiewood?" asked a gay, reckless-looking young man, as he lighted a +cigar, and settled himself in a comfortable armchair with feet elevated +on the fender. + +"Indeed I do," responded Hardin, quickly. "You and I made her a visit +one evening, you know, and she drew forth rather ominous fortunes for +both of us from her teapot of destiny. Ha, ha! what was it the hag told +me, Sumpter?" + +"That you would be a wicked fellow, marry a lovely woman, who wouldn't +care a picayune for you, and live after you wished you were dead, I +believe, or something to that import, wasn't it?" + +"Well, I reckon 'twas some talk of this sort; but what brought this +incident to your mind now, Jack?" + +"It was recalled by sight of that young lady at your father-in-law's. +Don't you remember, that night we were at the rock den in Scraggiewood, +there was a child, a little girl, sleeping on a pallet in the room?" + +"Yes, perfectly." + +"Well, that child and this young lady are one and the same." + +"It cannot be!" exclaimed Hardin, quickly. + +"It is so, I'm positive. But stop; what is this girl's name?" + +"Annie Evalyn." + +"Exactly. I asked the old crone that night what was her child's name, +and she told me the one you have just repeated." + +"Is it possible?" ejaculated Hardin in a ruminating manner. + +"It is easy to convince your doubts. Just engage her in conversation and +allude to her early life. She'll betray herself, my word for it. Besides +I've heard of her since you left the east. She had a beau there at +Scraggiewood, one George Wild; and after picking up some education at a +country parson's, came west as governess in a wealthy family. These +several things have recurred to my memory since beholding her at Dr. +Prague's last evening; for, depend upon it, this fine lady, who +captivates all hearts, is the old Scraggiewood witch's daughter." + +After this speech from Sumpter a silence ensued. Hardin was revolving in +his mind whether to divulge his plan of revenge to his companion, and +enlist him as a co-worker to assist in the completion of his schemes. He +saw this accidental information would aid in furthering his plans. How +should he use it? He rose and paced the floor. + +"Jack," he said at length, giving him a slap on the shoulder, "can I +trust you?" + +"Always, Hardin," was the ready response. "I am yours to command." + +Another pause, and Hardin continued to pace the floor with nervous, +uneven steps. At length, as he passed the large, oval window, he caught +a glimpse of his wife walking in the conservatory. Approaching, he +tapped slightly on the glass to arrest her attention. She turned, and a +frown gathered on her features as she met his earnest, affectionate +gaze. O, Marion! why couldn't you have smiled then? What might not one +genial look from your sweet eyes have averted? + +Hardin turned away, his heart cold and callous. + +"Fool am I to hesitate!" he muttered; "who cares for me, and whom should +I care for?" + +Drawing a chair close to Sumpter's, they conferred in whispers for the +space of an hour. Then both arose. + +"Now make yourself presentable, Jack," said Hardin, "and we'll proceed +forthwith to put our scheme afoot." + +"I shall be ready in due season," was the answer. + +There was a select company assembled at Dr. Prague's mansion, enjoying +the evening in music and conversation. Annie had just sung a song that +elicited much applause, and Sheldon had contrived to draw her aside to +whisper some word of tenderness in her ear. + +"Frank," said she, "I feel strangely to-night." + +"Why, Annie, are you not happy?" + +"Yes, but I tremble; I'm frightened. I feel as if some awful danger were +impending." + +As she Spoke thus, the door opened, and Esq. Hardin, and his friend, Mr. +Sumpter, were announced. They mingled with the company and soon +approached the group in which Sheldon and Annie had chosen a place. +Hardin presented his friend to the several ladies and gentlemen +composing the circle, and passed on, leaving Sumpter sitting opposite +Annie. Glancing casually toward him, she found his gaze riveted on her +face. + +"May I ask, miss," he said, "if you are not from the eastern country?" + +She replied in the affirmative. + +"Well, I thought I could not be so much mistaken. How are you contented +away out here?" + +"Very well, sir," she answered. + +"Ay, indeed. I've heard say old loves were hard to forget; but I suppose +new ones will obliterate them if anything will." + +By this time the attention of the group was drawn to them. + +"Do you ever hear from your old Aunt Patty, now?" he continued, in the +same bold, familiar manner. + +Annie was startled to hear these words from one who was a stranger to +her; but as so many eyes were on them, she thought best to answer +courteously, and said, "I do sir, frequently." + +"Does she live there in the old rock heap at Scraggiewood, and tell +fortunes and bewitch sitting hens yet?" + +"Sir!" exclaimed Sheldon, "how dare you thus insult a lady in company?" + +"O, be cool, my good fellow! I never yet heard it was an insult to +inquire after one's honest relations, and I've done nothing more, as +this lady I'm sure will admit. I can perhaps give you some information +respecting your former lover, George Wild, Miss Evalyn," he continued; +"he is good and true yet." + +A scream from Annie arrested his words. She had fainted. Sheldon bore +her from the room amidst a buzz of voices, in which Sumpter's was +loudest, declaring he "did not mean to embarrass the young lady. He did +not know but what they were all acquainted with her early history." + +Sheldon did not rejoin the company, and during the remainder of the +evening Sumpter disseminated an exaggerated account of Annie's low birth +and disgraceful parentage among the guests. The tale found too many +willing ears; and Annie was pronounced a vile, artful deceiver, by those +who envied her talents and beauty. + + + + + CHAPTER XII. + + "Alas, the joys that fortune brings + Are trifling and decay! + And those who prize the paltry things, + More trifling still than they. + And what is friendship but a name, + A charm that lulls to sleep; + A shade that follows wealth and fame, + But leaves the wretch to weep?" + + +When Annie Evalyn recovered consciousness, Sheldon was bending over her, +bathing her temples with cologne. As the memory of the recent scene +rushed over her, her cheeks flushed, and she glanced timidly in his +face. It was cold--stern, she fancied. + +"Annie," said he, in a measured tone, "you are better now. I will leave +you for to-night, and to-morrow shall hope for an explanation of what, I +must confess, seems strange and mysterious to me at present. +Good-night!" and he turned to leave the room. + +"Good-night!" she faintly articulated, her eyes following his retreating +figure till the door closed and excluded him from view. "Yes, and a long +good-night too, Frank Sheldon!" she continued, when she was alone; "if +you can thus coldly turn from me,--thus lightly suspect me of artifice +and deceit. O, my God, what a blow! and to fall at such a moment, when I +believed myself almost at the pinnacle of happiness! Surely, the +arch-fiend directed the hand. Such words to be spoken in a fashionable +circle; and they'll all accredit it, for they have,--Heaven knows +why!--long been seeking something to my dispraise. And besides, I cannot +contradict the man's words, for are they not too true? and yet, O must +I be blamed for my humble parentage? O aunty, aunty, I'll not cast a +single reflection! You say you've left off fortune-telling for _my_ +sake--but it is too late now; and perhaps you'll need resort to it again +to support your poor, unfortunate Annie. I'm going to you, aunty; the +rough roof of old Scraggiewood will be above me in a few weeks. Would I +had never wandered from beneath its homely shelter! Truly, the world +_is_ a hard, cold place, aunty, as you forewarned; but I could not +believe it then." + +Annie rose and proceeded mechanically to place a few necessary articles +of clothing in a small satchel; this done, she sat down by the window to +wait till all was quiet below. The rich clothing, the wages and presents +she had received during her two years' residence beneath that roof,--she +would leave them all behind; they were bestowed when she was deemed a +worthy object, and _now_ they would consider it was a vile, artful +deceiver that had sought to ingratiate herself into their favor to +accomplish her own low, selfish designs. She was a fool for going abroad +in the great world; a fool to think she could ever become respected +and loved. _Love!_ There was no such thing! Had not Frank Sheldon, +thirty-six hours after he vowed to love her forever, turned coldly away +at a moment when she most needed his comforting attentions? And, as she +thus thought, a groan of agony escaped her breast. There came a light +tap on the door, and Kate entered hurriedly. + +"O, Annie, Annie!" she exclaimed, embracing the suffering girl warmly, +"I don't believe a word that man said, nor does father either. He says +if you are Satan's daughter, you are better and prettier, and wiser, +than the best of them. As for Frank, he has not spoken since the company +left, and I believe he is struck dumb. I was going to follow him when he +brought you out, but mother prevented me." + +"She is enraged at me, of course," said Annie. + +"O, she is hasty, you know!" returned Kate. "I dare say all will be +right in a day or two; so dry your eyes and go to sleep, and wake up as +merry as if that ugly Mr. Sumpter had never come here with his impudent +stories. For my part, I wonder Lawrence should bring such a monster into +genteel society;" and with a kiss they parted. + +Annie sat motionless another hour, and then, cautiously opening the +door, listened breathlessly a few moments. All was still; and, taking +her satchel, she glided noiselessly down the stairs and into the street. +Her heart sank within her as the cold wind struck her cheek; but she +moved rapidly forward, eager to place a distance between her and the +scene of her abasement. Soon she was on the broad, rough prairie road, +over which a waning moon cast pale, sickly beams. By daylight she +reached a settler's cabin, and learned that a stage-coach would pass +there in a few moments, bound eastward. She requested the privilege of +waiting its arrival, which was readily granted, and also such +refreshments placed before her as the cabin afforded; but she could not +eat. The coach soon appeared, and she rejoiced to find herself the only +passenger. The door was closed, and the hard, jolting vehicle rumbled on +its way. And here was Annie Evalyn, the beautiful, the gifted, the +admired Annie Evalyn of yesterday, flying like a guilty outcast from the +scenes amid which she had been so happy. + +Great was the surprise at Dr. Prague's mansion, on the following +morning, when Annie's flight became known. No token was left by which a +clue to her course might be discovered. Sheldon carried himself like a +crazy one. The old doctor bustled about, and said he would search the +world over to bring her back. Kate cried, and the children loudly +bewailed the loss of their dear governess. Mrs. Prague seemed the only +calm and rational one in the household; she declared herself glad to get +rid of the baggage, and considered her flight proof positive of her +guilt. + +This view seemed rather plausible certainly. If innocent, why did she +not remain and boldly refute the tale Sumpter had told? + +When the news of her flight was made known to Esquire Hardin, he laughed +heartily, and called up Sumpter to join him. The latter expressed +himself "sorry if he had unwittingly been the cause of an unpleasant +occurrence in Dr. Prague's family." + +"What, the deuce!" said Hardin, "do you suppose they wish to harbor a +young witch?" + +"Why, no,--but this gentleman, Mr. Sheldon." + +"Give yourself no uneasiness in regard to me, sir!" said Sheldon, +sternly. "I will manage and control my own affairs." + +"Bravely spoken, Frank!" remarked Hardin, "Now let us adjourn to the +dinner-saloon and drink a merry bout over fortunate denouement." + + + + + CHAPTER XIII. + + "It was a bitter pain + That pierced her gentle heart; + For barbed by malice was the dart, + And sped by treachery's deadliest art, + The shaft ne'er sped in vain." + + +The wild winds wailed wofully over the lonesome prairie, smiting sadly +upon poor Annie's heavy heart as she sat in the hard, jolting coach, +which, owing to the bad state of the roads, made but sorry progress. It +was already dark, and the driver said they had yet ten miles to ride in +order to reach the nearest post town. They entered a dense timber land, +and the wheels struck deep into a loose, gravelly sand, so the poor +horses could scarcely drag on at a slow walk. The coachman hallooed and +cracked his whip about their ears, but all to no effect; the animals +were worn down by a hard day's travel; and Annie, annoyed by his +boisterous vociferations, at last put her head out the window and begged +him not to beat the jaded animals, but let them proceed at their own +pace. + +"All one to me, miss," was the answer; "did it to please you; thought +you mought be a hungry, or mebbe sort o' tired, a settin' in there all +alone so. Whoa, Johnny! take it easy since it is the lady's wish. We +shall be just as well off a hundred years hence, I dare say, and supper +will be sweeter, the longer delayed." + +With this philosophical reflection, he relapsed into silence, and for +two hours they continued to drag through the heavy sand, with nothing to +relieve the monotony, save the shrill bark of the wolf, far in the deep +forest, answered by the deep growl of the bear, or piercing cry of the +ferocious catamount. + +Annie shivered with nervous terror at these wild, savage sounds; and +when at last, as they reached the open prairie, and struck a harder +bottom, the horses mended their paces, she felt sensibly relieved. At +length they entered a small, new town, and drew up before a large, +awkward building. The steps were lowered and Annie alighted, and soon +found herself in a long, dingy apartment, with a bright pine-wood fire +blazing and crackling in a huge, yawning fire-place at its farthest +extremity. She was chilled, and sat down before the glowing hearth to +warm her benumbed fingers. Presently a tall woman, in a short-sleeved +frock and large deer-skin moccasins, strode into the room, and with a +deep, ungainly courtesy asked, "What the lady would be thinking to take +for a bit of supper?" + +Annie answered she would take a biscuit and cup of tea, if she pleased, +and then retire to her apartment, as she was much fatigued. + +"And won't you have a chunk o' venison, or cold 'possum, to make your +biscuit relish, miss?" asked the woman. + +"No, I thank you," said Annie; "I don't feel much hungry to-night." + +"Why, I reckoned you must be well-nigh starved, a ridin' all day long, +and nothing to lay your jaws to; but, howsomever, you know your own +wants best." + +The woman went out, and soon returned with Annie's supper spread on a +pine board. Annie could hardly repress a smile at sight of the novel +tea-table. Her meal was quickly despatched, and she again signified her +wish to retire. It was a rough, dismal apartment into which she was +ushered, but, tired and jaded, she threw herself on the hard couch, and, +despite the trouble at her heart, slept soundly till morning. + +On rising, her first thought was to examine her little stock of money, +and she found it amounted to only seventeen dollars and a half, out of +which she must pay her coach and tavern fare. It was evident that she +must seek some employment to assist in defraying her travelling +expenses. The question was, whether she should remain where she was, or +go on as far as her scanty means would carry her. She went out to make +some inquiries of the woman who had waited on her the night previous. + +"Get some work to do, miss!" said she in a tone of surprise. "What can +you do? Can you cut fodder, or cradle rye, or catch 'possums?" + +Annie smiled, and said, "No, but I can teach school, do sewing, or +housework." + +"Wall, I don't know; you look a mighty fine lady to be asking for work; +but then it is none o' my business to be pryin' into other folks' +concerns. We are new settlers here, and have to get along as close as we +can. I don't reckon you'll find anybody rich enough to hire ye in these +diggins. You'll do better along further east, where folks are richer and +more 'fined." + +Matters looked unpromising, and Annie concluded to follow the woman's +suggestion, and travel on as far as the small funds would carry her. But +in the two years she had been at the west, the facilities for travelling +had improved, and prices were also reduced, so that her little purse +carried her much further on her route than she had expected. When it +finally gave out, she with great joy found she was but fifty miles from +her destination, and with a courageous heart resolved to perform the +remainder of the journey on foot. + +Accordingly, she set forward. The weather was fine, and she did not +doubt her ability to accomplish the distance in two days, at farthest. +Every mile passed inspired her with fresh courage, for was she not so +much nearer a heart that loved her? O, how she longed to be clasped to +that warm, beating bosom, and weep her sorrows forth to one she knew +would pity, sympathize, and strive to heal! + + + + + CHAPTER XIV. + + "Do you come with the heart of your childhood back, + The free, the pure, the kind? + Thus murmured the trees in the homeward track, + As they played at the sport of the wind." + + +The autumn evening stole calmly, sweetly on. Again October's harvest +moon rode through the liquid ether, and poured her silvery beams over +the wild, old forest of Scraggiewood, as we saw it long ago when Annie +Evalyn's years were calm and golden-hued as Luna's gentle rays. She was +coming now to the low, cottage home. With weary, languid step, she +threaded the old, familiar path, and it seemed to have grown rougher, +and the forest looked wilder and darker than in the days gone by. Poor +Annie! the darkness and gloom were in thy weary, world-tossed heart. +That heart beat wildly as she drew nearer the wished-for spot. What if +she should see no light gleaming through the aperture in the rocky +walls? What if the door should be fallen away, and no aunty there to +welcome the wanderer's return? She quickened her pace, and a few moments +banished all fears. The cottage came in view, and a bright light +streamed through the rough-cut window. Now Annie clasped her hands, and +thanked God that her journey was well-nigh ended. She saw her aunt +bending over the embers on the hearth, as she paused a moment on the +threshold. Then, entering softly, she stole to the side of the old lady, +and, passing an arm round her neck, whispered in a low, trembling tone: +"Here's Annie, come home to love and you, dear aunty." + +The old woman sprang so suddenly from her kneeling posture as nearly to +throw the slender form upon the floor, and gazed wildly in the speaker's +face. + +"Why aunty, don't you know me?" + +"Bless me, it is her voice! but how could she rise up here on my +hearth-stone to-night, like a witch or fairy?" + +"No, aunty; I am no witch or fairy that has risen on your hearth. I +walked all the way through the dim old forest to reach you, and it looks +just as it used to, only darker and more frightful." + +"Come here, darling, 'tis you! I know that voice. O how many times I've +dreamed I heard it in the long, lonesome nights!" and she wept, laughed, +and kissed her recovered child in a perfect abandonment of joy. "And so +you have come home at last to see your old aunty? I've had awful +feelings about you lately, hinney, and boding dreams; and ofttimes I've +been sorry I let you go into the evil world; 'for if it should use her +hard, would it not break both our hearts?' I said to myself. 'But, then, +Annie is so pretty and good, and has got so much book-learnin' and so +many accomplishments,' something would say. 'Ay, that's the mischief of +it. Such things always make bad folks envy those that possess them, and +Annie is so tender-hearted and shrinking, I'm afeard, I'm afeard for +her.'" + +Annie sunk her head on her aunt's shoulder while she was speaking thus, +and the tears, she had been striving to suppress since her entrance, +began to roll over her cheeks thick and fast. The excitement and anxiety +of the journey had in a measure diverted her mind from the events which +caused it; but now that she had gained the wished-for haven, her aunty's +words brought the past before her vision; that mortifying +humiliation--all she had enjoyed, all she had hoped for, and O, all she +had lost!--rushed upon her recollection, and she sobbed aloud. + +"O, mercy, mercy, it is as I feared!" exclaimed the old woman, in an +agonized tone; "something has hurt my darling, and now I mark how pale +and thin she is grown. Annie, Annie, tell your aunty what's the matter." + +Annie made a strong effort to calm her emotion. + +"I am fatigued and overcome," she said. + +"Ah! it is something more than that, child--I can tell; but you shall +rest till to-morrow. I'll make you a nice cup of tea, and then you shall +lie in your little cot-bed once more. I've always kept it dressed white +and clean, and often been in there nights before I laid my old bones +down to rest, and wished I could see my darling there, breathing long +and sweet, as she used to, in happy dreams." + +Annie was glad to retire, for she was indeed fatigued. Her aunt tucked +the counterpane snugly around her, and hung a shawl before the window, +"for hinney looked too pale and slender to bear the cold air now," she +said. Then she insisted on sitting by the cot till her darling slept; +but Annie begged she would not. + +"Go to bed, aunty, and get a good sleep, so as to be rested and fresh to +hear a long tale of my adventures to-morrow," and the kind old soul, +after kissing the white brow, bade Annie good-night, and sought her +pillow. + +It was long ere Annie slept, and when at last she did so, hideous shapes +and direful omens floated through her dreams. Once she awoke, when all +was dark and still, to find a burning fever on her cheek, and dull, +throbbing pain in her temples. At peep of dawn the old woman rose and +stole into the apartment. She wanted to see her little pet sleeping in +her cot-bed, as she used to years before. There she lay, her arms thrown +above her head as when a child, and the rich chestnut curls lying in +dark relief on the snowy pillow. But the deep, sweet respirations, and +the healthful glow of childhood were not there. A blue circle surrounded +the closed lids, and a fever-flush burned in the centre of each cheek. +The aunt saw her darling was ill. She took one thin, hot hand in hers, +and felt the pulse fluttering fast and wild. The sleeper woke and +started up, turning her eyes quickly round the apartment. + +"Don't you know where you are, Annie?" asked the aunt. "This is your old +room at Scraggiewood, and I'm your aunty." + +"O, yes! I remember now; but I think I'm sick, my poor head aches and +throbs so badly. You used to cure all my pains, aunty." + +"I hope I can cure you now, hinney. I'll go and prepare you a cooling +drink of herbs. You must be very quiet, and I trust you will be well in +a few days." + +Annie submitted patiently. A week passed by ere she was able to make her +aunt fully acquainted with her woful tale. The poor woman seemed as much +afflicted as Annie, but she strove by every means in her power to soothe +and comfort the suffering heart. Netta Gray had been married to George +Wild a few weeks before her return, and was now absent on a visiting +tour, and Annie's health continued feeble. It could hardly be otherwise +with a mind so heavy and depressed. For several months she remained in +seclusion at the lowly cot in Scraggiewood. + + + + + CHAPTER XV. + + "For the weak heart that vainly yearned + For human love its life to cheer, + Baffled and bleeding has returned, + To stifle down its crying here." + + * * * + + "Thou shalt go forth in prouder might + And firmer strength e'er long." + + +Up to the clear blue sky, when the sun was gone down on the silent +earth, clad in the pure white snow-mantle, and away over the tops of the +forest-pines, at the diamond stars hung in the far-off heaven, gazed +Annie Evalyn through that long, dreary winter, from the window of that +rude hut in the solitary depths of Scraggiewood. How she mourned o'er +her shattered idols, all fallen and wasted on their shrines! What a blow +had been dealt her sensitive nature! "O, it was so bitter cruel!" she +thought; "and what had she done that she should suffer thus?" + +In vain her aunt tried to soothe and solace, by telling her time would +bring better hopes. Parson Grey would sometimes drop in of a Saturday +evening to coax and encourage his former pupil, and bring some nice +tit-bit to tempt Annie's delicate relish. + +"You will regain your health and spirits when the spring opens, my +child," he would say. "Netta will come home, and we shall have you over +to the Parsonage, and all will seem like old times again. Then you must +resume that pen of yours, Annie, and let it write down those speaking +thoughts that lie in your inventive brain. You know my old doctrine; it +is a glorious thing to do good, and you can exert a happy and extensive +influence upon society. I know you will not abuse the noble faculties +given you by the great Creator." + +"Ah, he does not know all!" Annie would think. "I once was vain enough +to suppose I possessed faculties and powers to act a brave part in life; +but they've been bruised and broken in the very outset. I've no energy, +no aspirations; because there's nothing in the future to beckon me on. +Wherever I turn is desolation; and I despise my weakness as much as I +lament my misfortune. But I'll no more of a world that has dealt me my +death-blow. Here, in this solitude of nature, let me die and sink to +oblivion." + +Thus she ruminated, while the shadowy wintry days sped on; and reason, +weak and powerless in the headlong tide of passion that swept and swayed +in her breast, was buffeted and submerged in the furious waves; and yet, +when the storm had spent its fury, should it not arise clear and +brilliant, and over the subsiding tumult be heard to utter a calm, proud +jubilate of triumph and redemption? + +Spring came at last. The snows disappeared; buds swelled on the tall +trees, and burst forth into canopies of leafy-green, and the feathered +songsters came hieing from southern bowers, with wings of light and +songs of gladness. Annie began to brighten; slowly, and almost +imperceptibly at first, and without her own knowledge or consent. Those +faculties she had fancied killed were only stunned. + +When she found herself, one sunny April day, at her little, rude table, +inditing her beautiful thoughts on paper, she grew angry at her folly, +as she termed it, and tore the sheet. "And was she again seeking what +had once blasted her happiness? Let the desolation of the past deter her +from all intercourse with the heartless world again." + +But the sunny gleams from the beauty-fraught robes of the spring-queen +had fallen on the chilled fountains, and they began to melt and flow +again. And their music _would_ be heard. As the brook down in the forest +seemed to send sweeter, more joyous echoings on the ear after its winter +sleep, so Annie's soul poured softer, holier strains of melody from its +deep well-spring of chastened, purified feeling. Yet the struggle was +not all over. Some tears, some regrets, some rebellious thoughts, yet +lingered. The wildest storm oft passes the soonest by; but traces of its +effects may remain to the end of time. + +Netta returned from her travels, and the two friends, so long parted, +sat together in the old study again, and with clasped hands poured out +their hearts to each other. + +Annie could not avoid saying, "My life-happiness is wrecked, Netta!" as +she completed a rehearsal of her misfortunes, "O, that I had been less +confident and aspiring! Then I had not suffered thus." + +"Do not speak thus, Annie!" returned Netta, tenderly. "Your happiness is +not lost. With a mind so brilliant as yours, you must not yield to +despondency. I will do all in my power to render your life pleasant, and +so will George. He says your influence made him all he is. You rebuked +his slothful habits and urged him to activity. He felt the truth of your +words, though it wounded him deeply to have them come from you. I know +all, Annie. George loved you once, but I've forgiven him, and love you +all the better for having made me so good a husband." Here Netta laughed +and kissed her friend's cheek. + +Annie returned the caress. "If I've unwittingly done you any good, +Netta," she said, "it is no greater pleasure to have done it than to +hear it acknowledged so prettily." + +"But don't you think it very singular you have never received your +property from Dr. Prague?" asked Netta, turning the conversation back to +her friend's affairs. "I should have thought it but common honesty in +them to have forwarded your clothes and wages." + +"O, why should they trouble themselves to give a thought to so vile and +artful a wretch?" responded Annie, bitterly. + +"There, there, Annie, hush!" said Netta. "Vengeance will overtake them +for thus treating worth and innocence. And Sheldon, have you never heard +from him?" + +"Never!" answered Annie, and a tear fell as she spoke. + +"Not once!" said Netta. "He who could thus shamefully neglect one, so +lovely and beautiful, is not worthy of one precious drop from these +eyes." + +"And yet he seemed so noble and good, it is hard to cast blame on his +conduct. O, Netta, I cannot forget him!" she exclaimed, bursting into +tears. + +Ah, the love was there yet!--a little chastened and subdued, yet wanting +but a kindly touch to rouse it to all its early strength and power. A +bitter chastisement had tamed, but not conquered or expelled, the coy +truant from her breast. Should it aye sleep on, or one day know an +awakening? + + + + + CHAPTER XVI. + + "Go on, go on: you think me quite a fool; + Woman, my eyes are open." + + +In their sumptuous drawing-room, before a sparkling grate, sat Dr. +Prague and his amiable lady, in genial after-dinner mood; he burly, and +easy-natured, enjoying his oranges; she, majestic and oratorical in her +rustling brocades. + +"Doctor," said she, after a brief silence, "I wish to call your +attention to an important subject." + +"Ah! what may it be?" he inquired, in a careless tone. + +"Why, our Catherine's approaching union with Mr. Sumpter." + +"Is the girl going to marry Sumpter? I don't like it, madam, I don't +like it;" and the usually placid doctor displayed considerable +impatience in his tone and manner. + +"Why not? he is a wealthy, accomplished gentleman." + +"Humph! a conceited, tricksy villain, you mean." + +"Dr. Prague, is he not the friend and partner of my son-in-law, Esq. +Hardin?" + +"What of it?" + +"Why, a good deal of it, I should say. Is not Esq. Hardin one of the +first men in the city? I made the match between him and Marion, and I'm +proud of the alliance. You cannot say that it was not a wise and +judicious one." + +"Whew! I don't know. Marion as melancholy as a mummy, and a child that +shrieks in terror whenever its father approaches. Perhaps a wise match, +but far enough from a happy one, I should say." + +"The world calls it a nice match." + +"Indeed." + +At this point of the conversation Kate entered the room. + +"Come hither, child," said her father; "do you love this Mr. Sumpter?" + +"Why, no, father. I've never been able to conquer my aversion toward +him, since he vilified Annie's character, and caused her flight," said +she, wondering at her father's question. + +"Then you do not wish to marry him?" + +"Heavens! no." + +"All right then. I'll see that you don't. Now run away, child." + +"Dr. Prague, I'm astonished at you," exclaimed Mrs. Prague, in her most +towering style, as the door closed after Kate, "thus to pamper to the +follies of your offspring. Young people never know what is for their +interest. They should be held in perfect subjection to their parents' +wishes, and taught to obey their slightest commands." + +"Very pretty, Mrs. Prague," remarked the doctor, carelessly, as his wife +paused for breath. + +Whether he alluded to her logic or her face, we cannot say. + +"Had Sheldon been discreet and saved his fortune," she resumed, "he +would have been the proper man for our Catherine." + +"But he blundered and fell in love with Annie Evalyn." + +"Faugh! don't mention that minx to me," said Mrs. Prague, with a sneer; +"but it must be confessed, Sheldon has very limited knowledge of +business, or he might have saved a part of his fortune at least. My +son-in-law, Esq. Hardin, by his alacrity and far-seeing judgment, +secured himself from material loss in the great land crash." + +"Humph! quite as likely by his cunning and artful machinations." + +"Dr. Prague, I'm astonished to hear you detract from the worth and +honesty of your son-in-law, even in our private conversation." + +"I may repeat here what I've of late heard broached in public places, +that Hardin involved Sheldon in the speculations with the intention to +effect his ruin." + +"Such groundless insinuations are worthy their originators," said Mrs. +Prague, in an angry, vehement tone. + +"May be time will render us all wiser than we are now, madam." + +"I hope it will," she answered, significantly, as with a lofty air she +rose from the luxurious sofa, and remarked, "I will now go down to +Marion's, and pass an hour in conversation with my son-in-law." + +"Do so, madam," said the doctor, "and as you pass the office door, send +Kate up here with my cigar-case, if you please. It lies on the table +there." + +And the majestic Mrs. Dr. Prague rustled her brocades into the private +parlor of her daughter Marion, just as the latter was hushing the +shrieks of a chubby little boy, who seemed nearly frantic with affright. + +"What is the matter of him, Marion?" asked she. + +"His father kissed him in his sleep and woke him. You know he always +screams at sight of Lawrence." + +"Strange he should be afraid of his father; but he will doubtless get +over it as he grows older." + +"I think it increases upon him." + +"Is not Lawrence at home?" inquired Mrs. Prague. + +"He is in the office with Mr. Sumpter, I believe," was the reply. + +"Would you think it, Marion? Your father is opposed to our Catherine's +marrying Mr. Sumpter." + +"Indeed, I do not wonder. I do not consider him a proper person for any +young lady of taste and refinement to marry." + +"Why so? Lawrence extols him." + +"Does he?" + +The child had grown quiet, and now slept in its mother's arms. As her +son-in-law did not appear, Mrs. Prague soon retired. + +Hardin was having a stormy scene with Sumpter. The latter had of late +grown bold and impetuous. Admitted in confidence to all Hardin's +nefarious schemes and plottings, he gained a power over the wicked man, +and began to exercise it with arbitrary sway. He was a reckless, +unprincipled gambler, and, having recently encountered heavy losses, +came with a bold demand on Hardin's purse. + +"You are getting to use me shabbily," he exclaimed, angrily; "with all +Sheldon's fortune tucked away in your pocket, to say nothing of--you +know what--you refuse me so small a favor as a cool thousand. Come, hand +over, or, by Heaven, I'll inform against you!" + +"You can hardly do that, without marring your own good fame," said +Hardin, ironically; "and I know you would shrink from doing that." + +"None of your sneers, Hardin," growled Sumpter, fiercely; "will you give +me the money?" + +"No!" thundered Hardin, with an oath; "you shall not ride rough-shod +over me in this way. Now begone from my sight!" + +"Very well; good-evening, Esq. Hardin," said Sumpter, with a savage, +revengeful leer on his countenance, as he went out, slamming the door +spitefully behind him. + +Hardin was alarmed, after the wretch was gone, as he reflected how far +he was in the monster's power, and in what ruin he might involve him if +he chose. + + + + + CHAPTER XVII. + + "Now mark him in the tempest hour, + Will he be calm, or will he quail + Before the fury of its power? + ----Read ye the tale." + + +There are those that know not the extent of their powers till they are +called forth and tasked to the utmost by trial and misfortune. Such an +one was Frank Sheldon. Disposed to ease and quiet in the hour of +prosperity, when adversity came, it aroused him at once to vigorous, +decisive action. Though bereft of love and fortune at a blow, as it +were, his manly spirit did not cower and sink beneath the strokes; that +he suffered is true, but he bore up bravely under the adverse fortune. +He was proud, as all great minds are, and the blight so publicly cast on +Annie Evalyn's good repute, cut him to the quick; but he hoped she might +be able to refute the aspersions cast on her by Sumpter, for he was loth +to think ill of a being that had appeared so amiable and exalted in her +nature, so lofty in soul and intellect, and was beautiful as an angel in +person. But, instead of this, she fled by night from the scene of her +confusion, leaving behind all her effects, and no clue to her intended +course. Did not this wear the appearance of guilt? Still he did not +condemn her, but learned from Dr. Prague the place of her former +residence, and wrote a letter, assuring her of a continuance of +affection, and asking an explanation of Sumpter's strange tale. No +answer was returned,--indeed, the letter never reached its destination; +but this Sheldon did not know, and was forced to regard the silence as +another proof of her cupidity. + +With this view of the matter he found it less difficult to subdue his +passion. He could not, _would_ not love a guilty, artful thing. + +And now fell another blow in quick succession; his land investment +proved worthless, and at a sweep his fortune went past power to recover. +Hardin expressed much regret, but Sheldon could not avoid noticing that +he clutched at every opportunity to save his own affairs, and exposed +him to the most uncertain hazards. + +Old Dr. Prague loudly bewailed Sheldon's ill luck, and declared he would +never forgive himself for having advised the young man to embark in the +cursed speculations. But Sheldon begged him not to be unnecessarily +distressed, as it was no fault of his that the schemes proved abortive; +and the good doctor finally coincided, and settled down to his oranges +with tolerable serenity. + +Sheldon did not long remain inactive; he left those scenes amid which +misfortune had overtaken him, and repaired to the eastern cities, where +he readily found employ in an extensive printing establishment, and +applied himself assiduously to his duties. In a short time he was +admitted to the firm, and became assistant editor of a popular magazine. +This was an occupation congenial to his tastes, as it afforded him not +only an opportunity of writing, but of reading, and becoming intimately +acquainted with the polite literature of the day. + +He was one day in the editorial sanctum, examining a quantity of +manuscripts lately received, when one, in a clear, delicate female hand, +attracted his eye. There was something in the light, fairy tracery which +instantly riveted his attention. He read it through; "Woodland Winne," +was the signature,--a _nomme de plume_, of course. He wondered who could +be the fair authoress of this beautiful production. + +While thus occupied in conjectures, a gentleman entered the apartment. + +"Here, Wilberforce, do you know this MS.?" said Sheldon, holding it +toward him. + +"O, yes!" answered the gentleman, glancing it over; "beautiful hand, is +it not?" + +"Yes; but who is the writer?" + +"O, I don't know that! I have had several communications from the same +pen in the last three months, all exquisite in their style and diction, +and eliciting warm commendation from the literary press." + +"And cannot you discover the fair unknown?" + +"No, I have addressed her under her _nomme de plume_, and desired her +true name remitted, in confidence, if she objected to publicity; but she +has never seen fit to gratify my curiosity." + +"Strange one so deserving should shun notoriety," remarked Sheldon. + +"So it seems to me," said Wilberforce, who was the senior editor; "but I +came in to call you to the Literary Association; it meets at three +o'clock. Come, let's be off, or we shall be too late;--these MSS. we can +look over to-morrow." + +They closed the office and went out in company. But Sheldon forgot +himself several times in the debate, as a semblance of that delicate +manuscript, enwrit with those clear, sparkling fancies, rose often +before his mental vision. + +There seemed to be a spell about it, to charm and lead captive his +imagination. + + + + + CHAPTER XVIII. + + "The hour of vengeance strikes,--hark to the gale! + As it bursts hollow through the rolling clouds. + Such is the hand of Heaven!" + + +It came at length, swift, avenging justice; awful in might, and none +could resist its angry hand. + +The "pestilence that walketh at noonday," swept over the fair, young +cities of the west, and thousands fell victims to the remorseless +destroyer. + +O, Cholera! great be the name of him, who, from the mazes of scientific +lore, shall call a power to rob thee of thy terrors, thou scourge of +mankind! + +Lawrence Hardin returned from a southern trip to find his house left +desolate; wife and child both in their hastily-covered graves. He shook +with agony, and scarce was the first frantic burst of grief subsided, +ere the officers of justice entered his mansion and declared him their +prisoner. He glared at them wildly. + +"What mean you," he asked, "by this untimely intrusion in the house of +death?" + +"Prepare to accompany us to the court-room immediately," was the answer, +"to answer to a charge of swindling and forgery preferred by one John +Sumpter, who is also arrested and undergoing examination." + +Hardin grew ashy-pale at these words. + +"The villain!" he muttered; "so he has betrayed me. Carry me where you +will, Mr. Officer. Life is a curse to me henceforth." + +Thus speaking, he resigned himself passively to the custody of the +sheriffs. They conducted him instantly to the court-house, and placed +him in the prisoner's box beside Sumpter, who cowered and moved away at +his approach. Hardin threw a look of envenomed hatred on the wretch, and +sat down. When the charges were read he merely bowed; and when asked +what he had to plead, replied: "Nothing, only that they would hang him +up as soon as convenient, and thus end his misery." He was placed in +jail with Sumpter, and several other defaulters, to await a final trial +at the autumn sessions. + +And the pestilence swept on; young and old, rich and poor, all fell +before its blasting power. In the brief space of twenty-four hours, Dr. +Prague was bereft of wife and children, and left a poor, lone man, in +his solitary mansion. Where should the mourner turn for consolation? At +this crisis, he thought of his old friend, Parson Grey, and determined +to quit the city for a few weeks, till the epidemic should have +subsided, and make him a visit. He was just the calm, holy spirit he +needed to solace his afflictions; and accordingly a letter was +despatched, which brought a speedy reply, sympathizing in his distress, +and urgently inviting him to join them as soon as possible. + +He visited Hardin before departing, informed him of the death of all his +family, and kindly inquired if he could be of any service to the +imprisoned man. + +"No!" was the answer; "and I don't know what you came here at all for. +What do I care if your wife and brats _are_ dead? So is _my_ wife dead, +and _my_ child, and I hope soon to be. The greatest favor you can bestow +is to get out of my sight." + +The doctor gazed on the hardened wretch with pity, and turned away. He +left the city in July, and the first of September the trials came on. +The large court-house was densely thronged to hear the pleas and +decision in the case of the extensive forgeries and bank frauds of +Hardin and Sumpter. There could be little doubt of the verdict, as the +evidence against the parties was powerful and conclusive, and none +seemed so regardless of the issue as the prisoners themselves. With +hard, stoical faces, they confronted the jury, as they returned from +their deliberations and resumed their seats on the platform. + +Without, the elements were raging in their wildest, most terrific fury. +Broad flashes of lightning at intervals illuminated the crowded hall, +and glared on the sea of upturned human faces, marked with every variety +and shade of passion and feeling. The thunder roared and reverberated +through the heavens with tremendous crashings, as the judge arose, and, +turning toward the jury, asked, in solemn accents, if they had agreed +upon a verdict. + +They had. + +"Are the prisoners at the bar guilty, or not guilty?" + +There came a blinding flash, followed by a deafening thunder-bolt, as +the foreman rose and pronounced the word, "_Guilty_." + +Smothered screams at this moment issued from various parts of the +assembly. The building was struck and on fire. Terrible confusion +ensued. Frantic cries and shrieks mingled with the bellowings of the +storm without, rendering the scene awful beyond description. All rushed +pell-mell for the street. The crackling flames burst through the broad +windows on the side of the judges' platform, rolling a dense volume of +smoke and stifling heat into the interior of the building. In the wild +excitement and terror, the prisoners were forgotten. They stood in the +box where they had received sentence. The flames were rapidly +approaching them. Sumpter turned a glance full of hatred and vengeance +on Hardin. "You swore revenge on Sheldon," said he, "and I helped you +accomplish your iniquitous designs. You refused a paltry sum when I +asked it, and then I swore revenge on you, and this is the way I finish +it." + +Hardin drew a revolver from his breast; "And this is the way I finish +mine," he said; and, taking aim, lodged a ball in the heart of Sumpter. +Then, springing quick as lightning over the box, he rushed among the +crowd and gained the street. The intense darkness favored his flight, +and, hurrying on, he gained the levees, secreted himself in the hold of +a boat, and had the good fortune to find himself floating down the river +in the morning. + + + + + CHAPTER XIX. + + "Go forth, thou spirit proud and high, + Upon thy soaring way; + Plume all thy pinions for the sky, + And sing a glorious lay." + + +As the young sapling of the forest bends and sways in the fury of the +blast, and, when it is passed, rises and shakes the weight of rain-drops +from its pliant boughs, and stands stronger, higher, more beautiful than +before, so Annie Evalyn, when the passion-storm had spent its fury, rose +a purer, loftier being, with a heart firm and free, and a soul elevated +and sublime in its aspirations. There might be traces to tell the +tempest had been a wild one; a paleness on the brow; the lips thinned +and slightly compressed; the eyelids sometimes drooping their long +lashes over the dark, liquid eyes, and a tear stealing silently over the +marble cheek; or a slight shudder for a moment convulsing the slender +frame, as if memory painted a picture the soul shrank from contemplating. +Yet these light tokens of what _had_ been, heightened the sublime beauty +of what was _now_. Annie was no longer a child in the world's lore of +experience. Sorrow and suffering are swift teachers. They unfold and +perfect the powers with astonishing rapidity. Annie Evalyn was a woman; +with a quick eye and ready judgment to detect and discern the workings +of that great mystery, the human heart, yet simple and child-like in her +manners, as of old. + +"Bless it, but this is an agreeable surprise!" exclaimed Aunt Patty, as +Annie entered the little, rock-built cottage, on a clear, cool evening +in early autumn, with a bright smile beaming on her lovely features; +"why, I didn't once think of your comin' to-night, hinney, bein' as you +were here last Saturday. But it does my old heart good to know you +remember your poor, ignorant aunty, when you are among your little +scholars and so many kind friends at the Parsonage." + +"O, I never forget you, aunty!" said Annie, returning the old lady's +embrace; "this humble cot and these old Scraggiewood oaks are very dear +to my heart." + +"I'm glad to hear it, dear; it is a homely spot, to be sure, but it has +sheltered us well. But what is doing at the parson's, love? All well and +happy?" + +"Yes, and Aunt Rachel sent you this little box of wax-candles. She said +you loved to read evenings, sometimes, and these gave such a clear, +steady light, it would do your old eyes good to behold it." + +"The dear, kind-hearted creature!" said Aunt Patty, receiving the +package and brushing away a grateful tear. "Sure she is a perfect +Christian if there is one on earth." + +"O, we have some news at the vicarage, aunty! The old gentleman, in +whose family I resided during my stay in the western country, has sent a +letter to Parson Grey, narrating a sad tale of misfortunes, and +expressing a desire to visit him ere long. It seems the cholera has been +committing frightful ravages through those sections, and his entire +family have been swept away in the brief space of one week. And, O, +aunty, I dread to go on!" + +"Let me hear, child." + +"You recollect the man, Sumpter, who spoke those dreadful words in a +social company?" + +"Yes, yes, didn't I have him here, in this very room, on a night long +ago--and Hardin too? Ay, dark, wicked schemes, and worse than those, +showed in their cups. But go on, love." + +"Well, they have been arrested for forgery and found guilty. The sequel +of the affair Mr. Grey received last evening, in an extra sent him by +Dr. Prague. It appears the verdict was rendered during a violent storm, +which struck the court-house, and, in the confusion that followed, +Hardin shot Sumpter and escaped." + +"O, shocking!" exclaimed Aunt Patty, with horror depicted on her +countenance. "Ay, God's vengeance is sure to overtake the wicked sooner +or later." + +"We look for the arrival of Dr. Prague every day. How do you think he +will meet me, aunty?" + +"How should he meet you, child, but with shame and confusion of face?" + +"But he was always kind to me, aunty." + +"Well, he didn't do right never to send a letter to inquire after your +fate, or forward your clothes and wages." + +"He might have been prevented by his wife. I know she was a violent +woman and had ever a dislike to me." + +"Nothing should prevent a man from doing what is just and right, Annie," +said Aunt Patty, in an inflexible tone; "but it is like you to think the +best of people's failings, and I acknowledge it is a good way. Now, +hinney, I'll make a dish of tea, and we'll have a brimming bowl of +Crummie's sweet milk, with some of your favorite berries. I'm so glad! +It seems a Providence that I gathered some this mornin'. I'll slab up +some batter cakes; you know I'm pretty good at them; and just you light +one of Rachel's candles--though it is hardly dark yet, it will make the +table look so cheerful-like." + +Annie did as directed, and they soon sat down to the simple meal. Aunt +Patty's face was redolent with good-humor and cheerfulness, as she +dished out the largest, ripest berries, and nicest browned cakes for her +darling. + +"Do you write your pretty stories and poetries for that city magazine +now, hinney?" she asked, as they discussed their meal. + +"Yes, aunty, and I have brought several numbers for your perusal. I +still want to be famous, aunty, though I once thought I didn't care for +anything more in this world; but that was in a foolish time, and is past +by now. Mr. Grey says it is better to be good than great; but if one can +be both, why, better still, I fancy. And I know I feel happy when I'm +teaching those poor little children to read and love each other, and +grow up to be blessings to their parents. This is doing good, Mr. Grey +says; but this restless heart of mine is not filled, is not content. It +feels there are other faculties, lying dormant and unemployed. The +editors of this magazine have offered two prizes,--one for the best +tale, the other for the best poem,--and I'm going to strive to win them. +The money would make you very comfortable for life, aunty; and you have +done so much for me I want to repay some of your kindness if I can." + +"Dear heart!" said the old woman, tearfully, "what have I ever done for +you that is not already ten-fold repaid by seeing your bright eyes, and +feeling that you love your old aunty?" + +"But I'm not wholly disinterested, aunty; don't you see I covet the fame +that would follow should I succeed? That's for me; the money for you. +Now kiss me good-night, and I'll to my cot to dream a subject for my +labor." + +"God bless and prosper you, my darling!" said the fond aunt. + + + + + CHAPTER XX. + + "It was a face one loved to gaze upon, + For calm serenity of thought was there. + The eyes were soft and gentle in their glance, + And looked with trusting artlessness in yours. + Placid her mien, like that of lofty souls + That after storm sink down in tranquil rest." + + +Once more is winding on the spring-time of the year, and once more is +Annie Evalyn away from the old forest home. Her soft, bird-like tones +echo through the sumptuous drawing-rooms of Dr. Prague's stately +mansion, in that fair western city. During his visit to the east the +preceding summer, he had succeeded in coaxing her away from Mr. Grey and +her aunt, to pass a few months with him, and cheer and enliven his +lonesome abode. + +"No one could do this so well as Annie," he said, "always his pet and +darling; though his foolish, yielding old heart had been overruled by +others to treat her with wicked neglect, for which he now cursed +himself, and wanted opportunity to make amends." + +So Annie kissed them all round, and went with him to pass a few months. +She had completed her prizes, and was now waiting to hear of their +reception. She had also contributed to the literary publications of the +city, and received a large share of flattery and applause; and, though +writing under a fictitious signature, her identity was well known in +private circles. Sumpter's villany and disgraceful end had effectually +destroyed his tale of her duplicity and artifice, and the highest +classes sought her friendship and society. The memory of former trial +and suffering stole over her sometimes, as she mingled again 'mid the +scenes of its enacting; but she was too wise and good to allow it to +rankle, or stir bitter feelings in her bosom. Let the past be forgotten +in the felicity of the present. Heaven had visited devouring vengeance +on the guilty ones. Let her bow in silence and adore! + +It was evening. Annie sat on a low ottoman at the side of the infirm, +good-natured old Dr. Prague. A bright gas-light sparkled through a +wrought-glass shade above them, and a silver salver, containing some +golden oranges and pearl-handled knives, stood on a walnut stand near +by. A servant entered, bearing a package of papers. + +"Here they are, dear uncle!" exclaimed Annie, springing forward to +receive them from the waiter's hand. "Now our evening's amusement can +commence;" and she passed him the dish of fruit, twirled the light a +little higher, and, drawing a stool close to his side, said, "Now what +shall I read first? The price of stocks, the list of deaths----" + +"No, little babbler," said he, patting her curls playfully; "you know +what comes first of all. 'Woodland Winnie,' of course." + +"Woodland Winnie is a silly little thing," remarked Annie. + +"I'll be my own judge as to that, Miss Annie; please to read on." + +"O, here is something from 'Alastor!'" she said, turning over the pages +of a new eastern magazine. "I do so love his writings; please let me +read this first, uncle. Do you know his real name?" + +"No; but I sometimes fancy it may be my old ward, Frank Sheldon, as he +has always had a turn for writing, and is one of the editors of this +periodical." + +"One of the editors of this magazine!" repeated Annie, in a quick, +excited tone; "I never knew that before." + +"Why, I thought I told you last fall, at Parson Grey's, in some of our +talks about former days." + +"No; you said he was employed in some printing establishment at the +east, that was all." + +"Well, I intended to have mentioned the rest; but what makes you look so +earnest and rosy, Annie?" + +"O, nothing!" she answered; "I was only thinking." + +"Frank has written to me, recently, a letter of sympathy and condolence, +and says he will visit the west this summer," the old man continued, +paring an orange. "I was going to make him my sole heir, but now I've +found you, I believe I shall curtail him and take you in for a share." + +"O, you had better not!" she exclaimed quickly. + +"And why better not, child?" + +"Because he is more deserving your generosity than I." + +"More deserving? No, indeed, Annie. But see how nicely I have peeled +this orange for you," passing it to her. + +"For me, uncle! You had better eat it yourself." + +"Why, what ails the girl? She won't even accept an orange from my hand." + +"Yes I will, uncle; but after you had prepared it so nicely, I thought +you ought to enjoy it yourself," she answered, accepting the luscious +fruit. He gazed on her affectionately while she ate the juicy slices, +with grateful relish, and when she had finished, said, "Now will Annie +read to me awhile?" + +"With the greatest pleasure, uncle," she answered, returning to the +package of books, from which she read till he was satisfied. + +"Your voice reminds me of those wild, bright birds I used to hear +singing in that old wilderness of Scraggiewood, when I called on a quiet +evening at that rocky cottage where you were nursed into being; a spot +fit to adorn a fairy tale. No wonder you are such a pure-souled, +imaginative creature, reared in that pristine solitude of nature. Now +you may retire, darling, and don't fail to be down in the morning to +pour the old man's coffee, because it is never so sweet as when coming +from Annie's little hands." Thus speaking, he bestowed a fatherly kiss +upon her soft cheek, and she glided away to her own apartment. A long +time on her downy couch she lay gazing on the moonbeams that glinted +over the rich flowers of the Persian carpet, while crowding thoughts and +fancies thronged upon her brain. Most prominent were those of Sheldon, +and his connection with the magazine for which she had written her +prizes. Amid wonderings and fancyings she fell asleep, to follow them up +in dreams, with every variation of hue and coloring. She was roaming +through the gravelled avenues of an extensive flower-garden, when a +rainbow of surpassing brilliancy spanned a circle in the air above her, +and wherever she turned her steps, it followed, hovering just above her +head; and the delicate colors seemed to strike a warm, heart-thrilling +joy down to the inmost recesses of her soul. She woke, with a delicious +sense of happiness, to find the morning sun throwing his golden beams +into her apartment. + + + + + CHAPTER XXI. + + "And I did love thee, when so oft we met + In the sweet evenings of that summer-time, + Whose pleasant memory lingers with me yet, + As the remembrance of a better clime + Might haunt a fallen angel. And O, thou-- + Thou who didst turn away and seek to bind + Thy heart from breaking--thou hast felt e'er now + A heart like thine o'ermastereth the mind; + Affection's power is stronger than thy will. + Ah, thou didst love me, and thou lovst me still!" + + +Annie's foot was on the stairs to descend to the drawing-room, on the +following evening, when she heard the old doctor's voice in the hall, +exclaiming, in tones of loud, hearty welcome, + +"Why, bless my eyes! Frank Sheldon, my boy, do I behold you at last? And +to come upon me in this unexpected manner! I've a mind to throw this +orange at your head." + +"Do so, sir, if you choose; but first hear my apology for this +unceremonious surprise. Business brought me----" + +"I won't hear a word about an apology," interrupted the doctor, +bestowing a hearty slap on his young friend's shoulder. "Come in, boy, +come in;" and the doors of the drawing-room opened and closed after +them. + +Annie ran back to her apartment in a flutter of emotion. "Sheldon there! +and he came from _that office_! Business brought him,--what would come +of it all?" She dared not hope or anticipate. She dared not think at +all; and, throwing her graceful form on a sofa, she commenced tearing +some water-color paintings she had lately been executing, into strips, +and twisting them into gas-lighters. + +Meantime Sheldon was snugly bestowed in a cushioned seat beside his good +friend, the doctor, who was plying him with a thousand questions +concerning his affairs, prospects, etc. After he had become satisfied on +these points, he recollected Sheldon had mentioned some business as the +cause of his sudden visit. + +"What was it you said about business bringing you so unexpectedly?" he +inquired. "So, I would not have enjoyed this pleasure had inclination +alone biased your feelings!" + +"You wrong me, sir," returned Sheldon, "by such an insinuation. I would +have visited you in the summer, in any event. I merely intended to say +business hurried my arrival. Our magazine, several months ago, issued a +set of prizes for the best poem and tale. The articles have been +received, and I commissioned to award the authoress, who, it appears, is +a resident of your city." + +"Indeed!" said the doctor. "Then we've a literary genius among us. What +is her name?" + +"She writes under a _nomme de plume_." + +"And what is that?" + +"Woodland Winnie." + +The good doctor sprang to his feet with such remarkable quickness as to +overturn the tray of oranges on the stand beside him, and they went +rolling over the carpet in all directions, while he clapped his hands +and roared again and again with convulsing laughter. Sheldon was +dumb-founded. + +"Good!" exclaimed the doctor, in a tone of gleeful chuckling. "Ha, ha, +ha! I declare I shall die a laughing. So cunning, the witch,--never to +tell me!" + +"Do you know the lady?" asked Sheldon in amaze, gazing on his friend's +extravagant demonstrations of mirth and joy. + +"Better and better!" roared the doctor. "Do I know her? Yes; she has +been an inmate of my mansion for the last _six_ months. Why, boy, she is +an angel;--as gifted, as beautiful, and as good as all the beauty and +genius put together. She has warmed my old heart and filled my house +with sunshine." + +"You will do me a great favor to introduce your humble servant to this +paragon of excellence." + +"Exactly! I'll do it all in good time; but take another orange, man!" he +said, extending the empty tray to Sheldon. "Zounds! where are they +gone?" he exclaimed, perceiving the dish to be vacant. "Have I eaten +them all?" + +Sheldon could not forbear laughing now, as he informed the doctor of his +accident, which called forth another burst of merriment. + +"Well, you want to see this lady?" he said, when it had subsided. "I'll +bring her to you in a jiffy;" and the gleeful doctor departed on his +errand. + +Sheldon paced the floor uneasily during his absence; but he was not kept +long in waiting. He soon heard steps descending the stairs and, whirling +a chair so as to give him but a side view of the entrance, sat down to +await their coming. The doors slid open, and he became aware of a light, +graceful figure, in a dark, crimson robe, leaning on the doctor's arm, +and approaching with fairy-like steps. The setting sun was throwing a +flood of radiance through the heavy folds of purple damask, and filling +the apartment with soft, dreamy light as they paused before him. + +"I have the pleasure of presenting to you 'Woodland Winnie,' Mr. +Sheldon," said the doctor. + +Sheldon raised his dark eyes slowly to the lady's face, and there, in +the genial light of that mild spring evening, stood Annie Evalyn. He +started as if an electric shock had shot through his frame. She trembled +and blushed, and the old doctor roared and shook with laughter at +Sheldon's speechless surprise; but the latter soon recovered himself and +greeted Annie with respectful cordiality, offering an apology for his +surprise, by saying he was not prepared to behold a former acquaintance +in the fair authoress. She returned his salutations with grace and ease, +while the doctor continued to laugh immoderately. So pleased was the old +gentleman with the part he had enacted in the scene, that he actually +consumed twelve oranges, and despatched a servant for a fresh supply. +Sheldon could not avoid stealing a glance at Annie as she sat on the +sofa before him. The dark chestnut curls were lifted away from the +expanding temples, and the delicate marble complexion, relieved by a +just perceptible tinge of rose on either cheek; while the beautifully +imaginative expression of the full blue eye, the curved lip and nostril +speaking the free, dauntless spirit, and the exquisite contour of the +light, graceful figure, yet somewhat taller and thinner than when he had +last seen her, all conspired to assure him it was no timid, shrinking +girl he beheld, but the lofty, talented, accomplished woman. Back came +the old love and admiration ten-fold stronger than ever. The doctor went +out to look after his oranges. There was a silence. It was growing +oppressive. He rose and approached the sofa. + +"I have erred, Annie," he said, in a low, mellow tone, fraught with deep +sorrow and contrition. + +"We are human, Frank," she answered, very softly. + +It was not the words, but the tone, the manner, that convinced him he +was forgiven. He sat down beside her, and there, in the deepening +twilight of that spring evening, what a holy happiness was rising over +the ruins of wickedness and crime! Who shall say how much holier, purer, +and more elevated for the trying ordeal to which it had been subjected? + + + + + CHAPTER XXII. + + "To all and each a fair good-night, + And rosy dreams and slumbers bright." + + +We are winding to a close. In the delicious coolness of a summer +evening, Aunt Patty sat upon her lowly stile, her head drooped pensively +on her withered hand, as if absorbed in deep meditation. The sound of +approaching footsteps aroused her, and directly a light form was at her +side, while a soft voice whispered in her ear: "You are thinking of one +from whom I bring tidings." + +It was Netta Wild, accompanied by her husband, who carried a small +package in his hand. + +"Ay, yes! true, Netta, I was thinking of Annie," said the old woman, +rising, and beckoning them to enter, while she bustled about and lighted +a candle. "So you have brought me news of her?" she continued. "I always +know when I'm going to hear from hinny, for I'm thinking and dreaming +about her all the time for three or four days before the tidings come." + +"You should have had bright visions of late, Aunt Patty, if they are to +tally with the truth," said Netta. "Annie has won the prizes." + +"Has she? Do tell!" exclaimed the old woman, her face glowing with +pleasure. + +"Yes, and here are the magazines containing the articles," answered +Netta, untying the package; "but this is the smallest part of her good +fortune; there's better news yet to be imparted, Aunt Patty. Sit down +here close beside me while I read this letter,--it is for both of us, +she says." + +Aunt Patty hitched her chair close up, remarking, as she did so, that +"the best news she could hear of hinny was, that she was coming back to +her old aunty." + +"Well, she is coming back," said Netta, "but not alone; in brief; she is +married, Aunt Patty." + +"O dear! O dear!" groaned the old lady in agony; "I have lost her +forever, my darling, darling Annie!" + +"No you haven't," said Netta; "for she says it was in the bargain that +she should never go from her dear old aunty while she lived, but always +be near to cheer and console her declining years." + +"O, the hinny love!" said Aunt Patty, brightening at these words. + +"And she describes her meeting with Sheldon (for he is the bridegroom); +of his being one of the editors of the magazine for which her prizes +were written; of his surprise at finding to whom he was awarding them, +and the explanation, and awakening of the old love, which quickly +followed." + +"We are married, Netta," she writes, "and are all bound eastward, as +soon as Dr. Prague can close up his affairs in this city, as he proposes +to accompany us, and spend the remainder of his days near your kind +father. He says he has no ties to bind him to the western country. You +will take this package, containing my prizes, to aunty, and read this +letter to her. Tell her she must use the note enclosed to buy her a +smart new dress, and get you to make her a high-crowned cap with an +extra pinch in the border, in which to receive her Annie's husband." + +The old woman laughed and cried by turns, and said, "'Twas not much use +to rig up such an old, withered thing as she was; but then she would do +all as hinny wished." + +George and Netta stopped awhile to chat upon the expected arrival. Netta +said, "The young couple could live in the beautiful stone mansion George +had just completed, and which was now wanting a family. It was built in +Gothic style, and most romantically situated, only a little distance +from the Parsonage, in a delightful grove of maples and elms. She had +been wondering who would occupy it, but never dreamed it might be Annie +and her noble husband." + +Thus they talked and planned; Aunt Patty all the while half wild with +excitement and expectation. At length they took leave, Netta promising +to come next day, and assist in making the new dress and smart cap. + + * * * + +Onward they came, on the wings of the flying steam-steed. Onward they +came, a happy trio; the good old doctor, boisterous in his glee and +satisfaction, looking first on Annie, then on Sheldon, and bursting +again and again into peals of exuberant laughter; so wonderfully pleased +was he with the success of his first attempt at match-making; for he +appropriated to himself the whole glory of cementing the union between +his two favorites. The only thing that caused anxiety or solicitude +during their journey was a fear lest the good old gentleman, in his wild +abandonment of joy, should forget himself, and eat so many oranges as to +endanger his precious existence. But, happily, their fears proved +imaginary. No such catastrophe occurred to mar their felicity, and the +little party safely reached the hospitable mansion of Parson Grey, and +were received with every demonstration of joy and welcome by the +expectant inmates. Aunt Rachel was in her highest cap, and soon +commenced preparations for the bridal supper, on which she had expended +her utmost, and expected to derive much commendation therefrom; but now, +Annie, little whimsie! overturned all her hopes at once. She had set her +heart on eating her bridal supper with Aunt Patty at the rock cottage in +Scraggiewood, and Sheldon declared it _his_ wish too. + +Parson Grey was of opinion the young couple should be left to act their +own pleasure in the matter, and all finally coincided; Aunt Rachel with +some disappointed looks, that Aunt Patty's oaten cakes should gain the +preference to her rich, frosted loaves; but she reflected that her +sumptuous banquet could be displayed and partaken of some other day; and +so she smoothed her brow and joined the rest in wishing Frank and Annie +a pleasant walk to Scraggiewood. + +As evening closed in, the happy couple, arm in arm, and unattended, took +their way over the rough forest path. Annie had so much to tell of her +early years passed there, and he was so intent on listening, that they +were close upon the cottage, ere they seemed to have passed over one +half the distance. + +"What a wild, weird spot!" he exclaimed. "No wonder you have such +glorious fancies, love." + +Annie motioned him to be silent; she had caught a glimpse of her aunt +sitting in the porch. + +"Come quick," she said, and in a moment they stood before the startled +old lady. Annie flung her arm over her neck and said: "Here's Annie and +her husband come to Scraggiewood to take their bridal supper with their +dear aunty." + +The old lady returned her darling's embrace warmly, but looked rather +abashed and disconcerted at beholding so fine a gentleman; but when he +advanced and shook her heartily by the hand, expressing in eloquent +words his gratitude to her for rearing so bright a flower to bless his +life, she gradually regained her composure; and with the young couple +roaming round the hut, out under the trees, and away into the woods in +the clear moonlight to search up Crummie, for Annie said, "Frank must +become acquainted with all her friends,"--the joyful dame set about +preparing a repast. She managed to get on her new gown and cap while +they were out, for their sudden arrival had surprised her in her +homespun garb. Annie noticed the change soon as they were seated at the +table, and, though Aunt Patty thought she needn't, remarked upon it at +once. + +"When did you find time to make that fine toilet, aunty?" she asked in a +roguish tone. + +But Aunt Patty turned the point well. "Why, dear, seeing you were so +particular in your letter that I should spruce up to receive you and +your husband, I thought I could do no less than respect your wishes." + +"Ha! ha!" laughed Sheldon; "you are well answered for your pleasantry, +Annie." + +Thus they discussed their simple meal with mirth and good-humor. Aunt +Patty's batter cakes seemed to have received an extra fine touch, and +the cream and butter were such as a king might relish, Sheldon declared. + +When the meal was over they sat down on the stile, Aunt Patty, at +Annie's request, drawing her chair close beside them. Then they talked, +and told her how much they anticipated living in the great mansion so +near to Parson Grey; and they would come every week to see her; and a +hundred other fine plans Annie formed, laying her head all the while on +her husband's arm, as he twined wild flowers among her dark curls, and +laughed at her lively sallies. Aunt Patty declared 'twas a sight angels +might envy, their love and happiness. + +The moon rose high above the tall forest trees, casting a mild, holy +radiance over the scene. And thus we leave them;--and thus we +say--"Good-night to Scraggiewood!" + + + + + ALICE ORVILLE; + + OR, + + LIFE IN THE SOUTH AND WEST. + + + + + CHAPTER I. + + "Adown the lovely waters, + Behold the vessel glide, + While beauty's fairest daughters + Gaze on the laughing tide." + + "She sought no notice, therefore gained it all, + As thus she stood apart from all the throng + Of heartless ones that passed before her eyes." + + +The Mississippi--river of majestic beauties--with the green, delightful +shores, elegant plantations, and dense forests of tall cotton-wood and +dark, funereal cypress, overhung with the parasitical moss, gliding +panorama-like before the enraptured vision! How proudly the mighty +steam-boats cut the turbid water, bearing the wealth and merchandise of +those productive lands to the numerous towns and cities that adorn the +banks of the majestic river! + +It was a lovely night in early June, and the guards of that queenliest +of all queenly boats, the "Eclipse," were thronged with ladies and +gentlemen just risen from their evening banquet in the sumptuous +dining-saloon. They were passing Baton Rouge, and many an exclamation of +delight was uttered, not only in admiration of the lovely scenery around +them, but that they were so happily near the terminus of a journey, +which, despite the splendid appointments of the boat, was fraught with +danger, and occasioned more or less uneasiness and anxiety in the bosoms +of all the passengers. + +Apart from the crowd, leaning over the balustrade, her dark eyes riveted +on the lovely prospect passing before her vision, stood a young girl of +perhaps fifteen summers. Her form was slight, and a profusion of black, +wavy ringlets floated over her small shoulders, while in all her +movements was visible that singularly beautiful grace of motion, ever so +attractive, and which is noticed only in very finely-constituted +organizations. She stood apart from the hilarious groups around her, +evidently + + "In a shade of thoughts that were not their thoughts." + +Her simple grace and self-possession, and the indifference manifested to +the flattering attentions bestowed upon her by the gentlemen during the +voyage, had rendered her an object of peculiar interest with them, and +provoked no small amount of envy and invidious remark from the weaker +sex. + +"Look there," remarked a freckled-faced lady in blue and yellow, to a +counterpart in red and green; "see Miss Pink o' Propriety, as the +captain calls her, standing out there alone, to attract some gentleman's +notice." + +"Of course," returned miss red and green, sneeringly. "I hate that girl, +she puts on such airs. And travelling alone, in charge of the captain +and clerk, shows what she is plainly. There, look! The bait has +taken,--Mr. Gilbert is caught!" and the rainbow ladies joined in a loud +laugh, as a fine-looking gentleman approached the fair, abstracted girl, +and accosted her. + +"Always flying your crowd of admirers," said he, "and hiding in some sly +nook. Please tell me some of your pretty thoughts, as we glide past this +lovely scenery, Miss Orville." + +"The recital of my poor thoughts would not repay you for listening," +said the young lady, with a pleasant smile. + +"Now I may consider myself dismissed, I suppose," remarked the +gentleman; "but if you don't tolerate me, you'll have to some other of +my sex; for naught so charms us contradictory human bipeds as +indifference to our gracious attentions, and we always pay our most +assiduous court where it receives the smallest consideration." + +"Well, if you choose to remain and entertain me with your company--" +commenced the fair girl. + +"I can do so, but you prefer to be alone," interrupted the young man; +"is not that what you would say?" + +"As you have been pleased to give expression to my unexpressed thoughts, +I'll abide by your decision," she remarked quietly. + +The gentleman bade her good-evening, and walked away, looking somewhat +chagrined by his easy dismissal. On the fore-deck he found the clerk of +the boat. + +"I've just come from Miss Orville," he said, falling into step with the +latter. "You are a lucky fellow, Mr. Clerk, to have such a lovely being +entrusted to your care." + +"She is a sweet young lady, indeed," said the clerk. "I was never +trusted with a charge in which I felt more interest." + +"No wonder. Half the gentlemen on the boat are in love with her, and she +is so mercilessly indifferent to all their blandishments! Yet she is of +an age to love flattery and adulation." + +"She appears like one whose heart is preöccupied," remarked the clerk. + +"But she is too young for that to be the case, I would suppose." + +"Love is restricted to no particular age." + +"She is from the north, too, and the maidens of those cold climes are +less susceptible to the influence of the tender passion than the +daughters of our sunny shores," pursued Gilbert. + +"Less susceptible it may be," answered the clerk, "but once enkindled, +the flame seldom flickers or grows dim. Northern hearts are slow to wake +and hard to change. I was raised in Yankee land, Gilbert, and should +know something of Yankee girls." + +"True, true; but where do you say this young lady is going?" + +"To New Orleans." + +"And do you know where she will stop in the city?" + +"At the residence of her uncle, Esq. Camford." + +"Possible? I know that family well." + +"Indeed," remarked the clerk; "then you may have an opportunity to +pursue your acquaintance with Miss Orville, in whom you seem to feel +more than ordinary interest." + +"Why, yes," said Gilbert, "I believe I'm in love with her at present; +but then I don't make so serious a matter of a heart affair as many do." + +Gilbert was a wealthy southern planter, of rather easy, dissolute +habits, yet possessed of some redeeming points. + +"With good luck we shall hail the Crescent City to-morrow," remarked the +clerk, at length, as he stood regarding the speed of the boat with +admiring gaze. + +"Say you so?" exclaimed Gilbert. "I must have a last game of euchre +to-night, then;" and he hurried into the saloon to make up a party. + +"Hilloa, Reams!" said he to a foppish-looking fellow, lying at length on +a rosewood sofa, intent on the pages of a yellow-covered volume which he +held above his perfumed head; "come, have done with 'Ten Thousand a +Year,' and let us have a last game of cards. We shall be in New Orleans +to-morrow, so here's our last chance on _la belle_ Eclipse." + +"O, give over your game!" yawned the indolent Reams. "I'm better +employed, as you see." + +"No!" returned Gilbert, "I'll not give over; if you won't play, I can +find enough that will. You are a cowardly chap, Reams; because you lost +a few picayunes last night, you are afraid to try your luck again. +Where's that young fellow, Morris?" + +"What, the handsome lad from old Tennessee?" said Reams, languidly +passing his taper fingers through his lavender-moistened locks; "he will +never hear of any cards save wedding ones tied with white satin, for he +has been for the last half hour on the guards in earnest conversation +with that pretty Miss Orville." + +"The deuce he has!" exclaimed Gilbert with a blank expression, as he +walked away with a hasty step, leaving Reams to adjust himself to his +book again. He soon collected a group of card-players and sat down to +his game; while young Wayland Morris and sweet Alice Orville promenaded +the hurricane deck, and admired the beautiful scenery through which they +were gliding, from the lofty pilot-house, conversing with the ease and +freedom of old acquaintances; for thus ever do kindred souls recognize +and flow into each other wherever they chance to meet in this fair world +of ours. + + + + + CHAPTER II. + + "My mistress hath most trembling nerves; + The buzz of a musquito doth alarm her so, + She straightway falleth into frightful fits." + + +It was the dinner hour at the splendid mansion of Esq. Camford, the +silver service duly laid on the marble dining-table, the heavy curtains +drooped before the broad, oriel windows, and an odor of orange flowers +pervading the apartment as the light breeze lifted their silken folds. +Colored servants, in snowy jackets and aprons, stood erect and prim in +their respective places, awaiting the entrance of their master's family +and guests. At length there was a bustle in the hall, and a loud, burly +voice heard exclaiming, + +"Here, Thisbe, you black wench, run and tell your mistress to come into +the drawing-room in all haste. Here's an arrival; her niece, Miss +Orville, just in on the Eclipse. I was down on the levee, to see to the +consignment of my freight, and run afoul of her. Run, you nigger, and +tell her to come here quick." + +"Yes, massa," and off patted the woman to impart the summons, while +Alice stood indeterminate on her uncle's threshold. + +The servant plodded up a long pair of stairs, and tapped thrice at the +door of an apartment, e'er she was bid in a peevish voice to "come along +in, and not stand there foolin'." The woman entered timidly. + +"What do you want with me?" snarled the fine lady from the depths of a +cushioned chair, her white fingers playing with a richly-wrought Spanish +fan. + +"Massa says come down in the drawin'-room to see a nice young lady, Miss +Orful, or some sich name, what's just come on the 'Clipse, that signed +away all massa's freight," said the woman with a profound courtesy. + +"What gibberish is this?" said the lady, in fretful humor; "go and tell +your master to come here this moment. I declare, my nerves are all +a-tremble, and my life is worried out of me by these stupid niggers. Get +out of my sight, and do my bidding!" + +The servant disappeared instanter through the door. + +"Where is your mistress?" bawled Esq. Camford, when she reäppeared in +the hall. + +"She says you must come to her this minute, for she is e'en-amost +nervousy to death," answered poor Thisbe, in a shaking voice. + +"Come to her? Thunder and Mars! didn't you tell her her niece was here +waiting a welcome?" + +"Yes, massa. I tell her there was a nice young lady here, what come on +de 'Clipse." + +"O, Lord! these fidgety women!" exclaimed Esq. Camford, impatiently. "I +hope you are not one of the sort, are you, Miss Orville? But come into +the parlor here, while I go up and rouse your aunt." + +"I hope, if she is sick, you will not disturb her on my account," said +Alice, somewhat alarmed at the commotion her arrival had occasioned. + +"Thunder! she is not sick, I'll wager; that is, no sicker than she deems +it necessary to be to produce an effect. I'm anxious you should behold +your cousins,--four in all; three youngest at school. They'll be home at +dinner, and it is already past the usual hour. Thunder! is dinner ready, +Thisbe?" + +"Yes, massa, and a waitin' mighty long time too." + +"Well, as I was saying, you must see your cousins, Jack, Josephine and +Susette. Our oldest daughter is over to Mobile for a few weeks. Pheny is +about your age, and you'll be great friends, no doubt; that is, if you +can romp and flop about pretty smart; but I must go for your aunt." + +Here an exclamation of "Mercy, mercy!" called the esquire's attention, +and he beheld his amiable consort sinking aghast, with uplifted hands on +a sofa in the hall. "Law, Nabby, what's the matter now?" said he, going +toward her leisurely enough, as though he were accustomed to such +scenes. + +"O, Adolphus Camford! what wench is that you have been sitting beside on +my embroidered ottoman? Answer me quick, for the love of Heaven! I will +not say for the love you bear me, as it is evident by your conduct that +you have ceased to regard me with a spice of affection," exclaimed the +fair lady, in a tone of trembling excitement. + +"Good, now, Nabby, good! A scene enacted on the arrival of our little +up-country cousin, Ally Orville;" and the esquire roared with laughter. +Alice heard all, and wondered what she had come among. + +The lady, nothing appeased by this explanation, as soon as she had taken +breath, burst forth again. "And you dared take the girl, in her dirty, +disordered travelling garb, into the drawing-room! Adolphus Camford, I'm +horrified beyond expression! Here, Thisbe, run and bundle the thing off +to her room before any one sees her. And to come just at our fashionable +dinner-hour too!" + +"Fuss and feathers, is that the child's fault? She came when the boat +did, of course. I was down there after my freight, and found her; she +seemed a mighty favorite with all on board, I assure you, and a handsome +young fellow rode up in the carriage with us, to mark her residence, +that he might call on her." + +"Yes, and our house will be overrun by hoosiers, and all sorts of +gawkins, no doubt. But take this girl out of sight, Thisbe. You can +carry some dinner to her room if she wishes any." + +"Thunder and Mars! She is your own brother's child; ain't you going to +let her come to the table with the family?" + +"Perhaps so, at a proper time. When I have seen her, and considered +whether she is a suitable personage for my jewel daughters to have for a +companion." + +"Why, didn't she come here more by your invitation than mine? for she +was well enough off at home, but, because she was the only child of your +deceased brother, you wanted to do something for her, and so sent for +her to come here, and finish her education at your expense, where she +could receive more fashionable polish than in a country town, away up in +Ohio; and as to her looks, just step into the parlor and see for +yourself." + +"O, where is she?" he exclaimed, finding the room vacant in which Alice +had been seated a few moments before. + +"I sent Thisbe to take her off," replied Mrs. Camford; "here are the +children; my brilliant son, my jewel daughters. I declare my nerves are +so shaken I feel quite incapacitated to preside at the dinner-table." + +"Pshaw, Nabby," said the blunt husband, "come along. I'll risk you to +despatch your usual quantity of lobster salad and roasted steak." + +"Adolphus, you shock me," faltered the delicate little lady, of a good +two hundred pounds' weight, as she hung to her lord's stalwart arm and +entered the dining saloon. + +"My darling children, assume your seats at table. Billy and Cato, unfold +their napkins. Adolphus, you see we have chops for dinner." + +Delivering herself of this flowery speech, the lady sank exhausted into +the high-backed chair that was held in readiness by the officious +waiter, and was shoved up to her proper place, the head of her sumptuous +table. + +The meal proceeded in silence, and all, even the delicate lady, did +ample justice to the chops, the entrées, and nicely-prepared side +dishes, as well as to the elegant dessert that followed in course. + + + + + CHAPTER III. + + "She wound around her fingers + Her locks of jetty hair; + And brought them into graceful curl + About her forehead fair." + + +Alice remained closeted in her little room, eating but a morsel of the +dinner brought her by Thisbe, till night-fall, when the woman again +appeared, and said, + +"Mistress says, if Miss Alice has made herself presentable, she can +attend her in the family sitting-room in half an hour." + +Alice bowed to this message, and said she would be pleased to meet her +aunt and cousins at the time specified. The woman paused a moment, and +then asked timidly, + +"Would not Miss Alice like a waitin'-maid sent to 'sist her in +dressin'?" + +"No, thank you," returned Alice, smiling. "I am accustomed to wait on +myself." + +The woman opened wide her shiny eyes, and exclaiming, "Massy! who ever +heard the like?" retired with a courtesy. + +Alice laughed quite heartily after she was gone. "The idea of a black +girl to help me put on a plain muslin frock, and twist my ringlets into +a little smoother curl!" said she. "I could array myself to meet a queen +in ten minutes." + +Thus speaking, she took from her trunk a snowy India muslin frock. It +fastened low over her finely-formed shoulders, and a chain of red coral +round her neck, with bracelets of the same material on her delicate +wrists, completed her toilet. With her own rare grace of motion, she +glided down the hall stairs, and into the presence of her aunt, who rose +from the soft-cushioned chair in which she had been reclining, with an +expression half terror, half anger, distorting her features. + +"Mercy, mercy! Another trial to my weak nerves!" she exclaimed. "Thisbe, +my nerve-reviver instantly!" + +The servant flew from the room, and returned with a small, silver-headed +vial, which the lady applied to her nostrils, and soon grew calm. + +Alice stood all the while dismayed at the confusion her sudden entrance +had occasioned, and the three cousins, perched on cushioned stools, +gazed on her with curious eyes. The aunt at length got sufficiently +revived to speak. + +"Now, Miss Orville, my long-since-departed brother's only child, advance +to embrace your affectionate aunt!" + +Alice came forward with a gentle, inimitable grace, and, extending her +hand, said, + +"How do you do, aunt? I am sorry to have made you so ill." + +"That is right, Miss Orville! you should be so. My nerves are delicate; +the least disturbance sets them all a tremble, and no one understands my +nerves; no one appreciates my nerves. Now I will present you to your +cousins. I call my daughters my three jewels. The eldest, and belle and +beauty, as we call her, is not at home, being in the city of Mobile at +present. Her name is Isadora Gabriella Celestina Camford. You will +behold her in due time, I trust. My second child is a son. I call him my +brilliant among my jewels. Daniel Henry Thomas Lewis John Camford come +forward to greet Miss Alice Orville." + +The lad thus called on, rose, stretched himself, and coming up to Alice +said, "How d'ye do, cous.?" + +The young girl received his extended hand kindly, and, after gazing for +the space of a full minute straight in her face, he resumed his seat. + +"Very well done, my brilliant son!" said the mother. "Next in order +comes my second jewel. Now Dulcinea Ophelia Ambrosia Josephine, my +adored remembrance of Don Quixote, Shakspeare, the Naiads, and the +mighty Napoleon, advance to greet your cousin!" + +And this living remembrance of the immortal dead sprang from her stool, +and, running to Alice, threw both arms round her neck, and, kissing her +on either cheek, exclaimed, "O, Cousin Alice! I'm glad you are come, for +now I shall have some one good-natured enough to talk to and go to +school with every day; for, by your pretty, angel-face, I know you are a +sweet-tempered thing." + +During this volubly-uttered harangue, the mother was making helpless +gestures to Thisbe for the nerve-reviver; but the graceless wench never +heeded one of them, so intently was she gazing with distended eyes and +gaping mouth on Miss Pheny's somewhat boisterous, but really +warm-hearted greeting of her Cousin Alice. Pheny was a universal +favorite among the servants, "for that she was a smilin', good-natured +young lady, and not a bit nervousy," as they declared. + +At length poor Mrs. Camford uttered a faint cry, which called Thisbe's +attention back to the spot from whence it never should have +strayed,--her mistress' cushioned chair,--and she rushed in a sort of +frenzy for the nerve-reviver, and applied it to the trembling lady's +nostrils; whereupon that delicately-constituted specimen of the genus +feminine uttered a stentorian shriek and flounced about the room like an +irate porcupine, greatly to the terror of Alice, who had never witnessed +such a scene before. But neither the brilliant son nor jewel daughters +seemed in the least alarmed, and in a few moments the mother regained +possession of her chair and senses, when her first act of sanity was to +hurl the bottle Thisbe had applied to her nostrils at the poor woman's +head with such force, that, had she not dodged the missile, it must have +inflicted a severe contusion. + +"There, you blundering black brute!" she exclaimed, "see if you'll bring +your master's hartshorn headache-dispenser again, when I send for my +nerve-reviver. The idea of a delicate woman like me having a bottle of +hartshorn bobbed under her nose! The wonder is I am not dead; yes, dead +by your hand, you brutal black nigger! But where was I in my +presentation? O, I recollect! That mad-cap girl, my second jewel, so +horrified me. I dare not yet refer to it lest my nerves become spasmodic +again. Pray excuse her, Miss Orville, and I will proceed to my youngest, +my infant-jewel! Eldora Adelaide Maria Suzette, greet your cousin, love, +as you ought." + +The child arose, made a stiff bend of her shoulders, and said, "I hope +to see you well, Miss Alice Orville." + +Alice returned her salute with a graceful courtesy, and all resumed +their seats. + +"Now," said Mrs. Camford, "this dreaded ceremony of presentation is +over, I hope we may get on well together. I'm desirous, Miss Orville, +that you should commence tuition at the seminary immediately. I shall +have no pains spared to afford you a fashionable education. As my +deceased brother's only child, I would have this much done at my own +expense. I always told Ernest, though he married a poor girl from the +north, and went off there to live with her, much against the wishes of +our parents, that I would never see a child of his suffer." + +"I have never suffered, madam!" said Alice, quickly. + +"For food and clothes I suppose not, Miss Orville," said Mrs. Camford, +loftily; "but my nerves are all shattered by this long confab, and I +will now retire, leaving you young people to cultivate each other's +acquaintance. Thisbe, carry me to my private apartment!" + +And Thisbe lifted her delicate mistress in her arms, and tugged her from +the room; an operation that reminded one, not of a "mountain laboring to +bring forth a mouse," but of a mouse laboring to bring forth a mountain. + +Days and weeks past by, and Alice was not so unhappy as she feared she +would be from her first experience. The "belle and beauty" returned from +the city of Mobile, under escort of Mr. Gilbert, who proved to be the +fair Celestina's _fiancée_. And Wayland Morris was a frequent visitor. +He often invited Alice to walk over different portions of the city. +There was an old ruinous French chateau to which they were wont to +direct their steps almost every Saturday evening when the weather was +pleasant; and to walk with Morris, gaze into his deep blue eyes, and +listen to his eloquent voice as he recited to her old tales and legends +of long ago from his well-stored, imaginative brain, was becoming more +than life to Alice. Perhaps she did not quite know it then. Whoever +knows the value of a blessing till it is withdrawn? Ah! and when we wake +some morning to find our hearts left desolate, how earnestly and +tearfully do we beg its return, with fervent promises never to drive it +from our bosoms, or scorn and slight it again! But does it ever come? +Alas, no! + + + + + CHAPTER IV. + + "O, know ye the land where the cypress and myrtle + Are emblems of deeds that are done in her clime, + Where the rage of the vulture, the love of the turtle, + Now melts into sorrow, now maddens to crime; + O, know ye the land of the cedar and vine, + Where the flowers ever blossom, the beams ever shine?" + + +Bright, balmy, beautiful southern land! Alas, that amid all your +luxuriance of beauty, where the flowering earth smiles up to the far +sparkling azure, and all nature seems chanting delicious harmonies, that +man should here, as elsewhere, make the one discordant note! Frail, +grovelling, passion-blinded man! The noblest imperfection of God! When +will he be elevated to the standard for which the Maker designed him? + +It was early spring, and the "floating palace," Eclipse, had made many +pleasant trips between New Orleans and Louisville, since Alice Orville +stood on her guards and feasted her beauty-loving eyes on the delightful +river scenery. + +The magnificent boat was now at the levee in New Orleans, advertised to +sail on the morrow. All was a scene of confusion in her vicinity. +Freight and baggage tumbled over the decks, passengers hurrying on +board, carts, hacks and omnibuses rudely jostling one against another, +runners loudly vociferating for their respective boats, etc. At length a +young man made his way through the crowd to the clerk's office, booked +his name, and engaged passage for a small town in Tennessee. The clerk +glanced at the name, and, instantly extending a hand to the passenger, +exclaimed; "Ah, Mr. Morris, happy to meet you! I look in so many +different faces, yours did not strike me as familiar at first. How has +been your health, and how have you prospered since I saw you last? Now I +recollect you were on the boat when we brought the pretty young lady +down; Miss Orville, I think was her name. Is she yet in the city?" + +"I believe she is," answered Morris, in a tone meant to be careless. + +"Surrounded by enamored admirers, no doubt," remarked the clerk. "So you +are bound up the river, Morris?" + +"Yes, to visit my widowed mother in Tennessee; she is failing in health, +and sent for me to come to her." + +"Indeed; 'tis like a dutiful son to obey the summons. Will you return to +New Orleans?" + +"Such is my intention at present." + +"Well, make yourself comfortable here, and the Eclipse will set you off +at your stopping-place in two or three days," said the gentlemanly +clerk, dismissing his friend, as others thronged around for +accommodations. + +The sun sank behind the "Father of Waters," as before a small gray +cottage on the eastern shore of the mighty river, a young, fair-haired +girl stood watching its departing light. At length a boat came in view +round a winding curve, and the little maiden leaped up, clapped her +hands gleefully, and disappeared within the cottage. Onward came the +graceful boat, lashing the waters into foam with its swift-revolving +wheels. It neared the shore, made a brief halt, and then glided on its +way again. A young man bounded up the embankment, and the fair girl met +him on the lowly sill with open arms. "Dear sister Winnie, how you are +grown!" exclaimed he; "but lead me to mother quickly." + +"I will, I will, brother Wayland. She has talked of you all day long, +and feared you would not arrive in time to see her." + +"Ah! is she failing so rapidly, then?" said the young man, while a gloom +stole over his features. + +"O, not so very fast!" answered the child; "and now you are come, I dare +say she will soon be well again." + +He patted her cheek, and hurriedly entered his mother's apartment. She +was lying on an humble pallet, wan and emaciated to so fearful a degree, +that the son could hardly recognize the parent from whom he had parted +eight months before. + +"O, mother!" said he in sorrowful, reproachful accents; "why had you not +sent for me sooner?" + +"I have wanted for nothing, my boy," answered the invalid, in a husky +voice. "Your letters spoke of success, and hopes for the future; how +could I be so selfish as to call you away from prospects so fair, to +tend on a sick-bed?" + +The son was silent, and after a few moments' pause, she resumed: "Winnie +did all that could be done for me. But for a few weeks I've failed +faster than usual, and I could not bear to die without beholding my +darling boy once more. Besides, what was to become of Winnie, left alone +and unprotected?" + +"Do not speak so hopelessly, dear mother," said Wayland, tears gathering +in his eyes; "I trust with the advancing spring your health may +improve." + +The poor woman shook her head. Winnie came, and, putting her little arms +round her mother's neck, commenced sobbing bitterly. + +"Winnie! Winnie! you worry mother doing so," said Wayland, drawing her +away; "come now with me; I want to see your pretty fawn and pet kids." + +"O, brother! the white spots are all gone from Fanny's neck and sides, +and the kiddies' horns are grown so long I'm half afraid of them; but +come, I'll find them for you;" and the child, diverted from her tears, +seized her brother's hand to lead him forth in search of her playmates. +They were soon found, and after admiring and caressing them a few +moments, Wayland left his sister to frolic with them on the lawn, and +returned to his mother's side. + +They had a long, confidential conversation, in which the son imparted to +his affectionate parent a brief history of the past eight months. She +listened with eager interest to the rehearsal. When he mentioned Alice +Orville, she regarded his countenance with a fixed, searching +expression, and a faint smile stole over her pale, sad face; but when he +breathed the name of Camford, she started convulsively, and demanded his +Christian name. + +"Adolphus," answered Wayland, in amaze at her emotion. "He is Miss +Orville's uncle, and the wealthiest merchant in New Orleans." + +"'Tis the same," she murmured; "you were too young, my son, when your +father died, to have any recollection of the events which preceded his +death; but you have heard from me that he was hurried out of the world +by temporal misfortunes too great for his delicate, sensitive +temperament to endure. The sudden descent from affluence to poverty bore +him to the grave. And I have told you, Wayland, that by the hand of one +man, all this woe and suffering was brought upon us." + +"And who was that man, dear mother?" asked the youth, in an agitated +voice. + +"Adolphus Camford," answered she, trembling as she spoke the fatal name. + +"Is it possible?" exclaimed Wayland, starting to his feet. "Then may the +son avenge the father!" + +"Stop, my boy," said his mother; "I intended this revelation but as a +caution for you against your father's destroyer. 'Vengeance is mine, I +will repay,' saith the Lord. Promise that you will remember this, +Wayland, or I cannot die in peace." + +"I promise, mother," said the young man, bowing at the bed-side, and +leaning his head tenderly on her bosom. + + + + + CHAPTER V. + + "If there is anything I hate on earth, + It is a ranting, tattling, prattling jade, + Who gossips all day long, and fattens on + Her neighbors' foibles, and at night lies down + To dream some ghostly tale, and rises soon + To bawl it through the town as good and true." + + +Hast ever attended a Ladies' Sewing Circle, reader, and witnessed the +benevolent proceedings of the matrons, spinsters, and young maidens, for +the poor, benighted heathen on the far-distant shores of Hindostan, or +the benighted millions who sit in the "region and shadow of death" on +the desert plains of Ethiopia? And while thou hast heard the lady +president plead so eloquently for those nations, who, groaning in their +self-forged chains, bow to the great Moloch of superstition and +idolatry, as to "draw tears of blood," as it were, from the eyes of her +rapt and devoted listeners, hast ever marked a pale, trembling child of +want totter to the door, and ask for the "crumbs that fall" from this +humane society's tea-table, and heard the answer, "Begone! this is a +benevolent association for the purpose of evangelizing the heathen, not +to feed lazy beggars at our own doors?" + +And has thy lips dared e'en to whisper, + + "O for the charity that begins at home!" + +Well, the "Ladies' Literary Benevolent Combination for Foreign Aid" was +duly congregated at Mrs. Jane Rockport's, Pleasant-street, in the town +of Bellevue, on the western shore of Lake Erie. It was a rainy day,--as +days for the meeting of sewing circles most always are; though why +Heaven should strive to thwart benevolence is a point upon which we will +not venture an opinion. + +About twenty of the most zealous in the course of philanthropy, who no +doubt felt the wrongs of the suffering heathen impelling them to brave +the wind and rain, had assembled in Mrs. Rockport's parlor, and, after +hearing a hymn composed for the occasion by the Misses Gaddies, and +performed by the same interesting young ladies, and an appropriate +prayer by the president, Mrs. Stebbins, the work designed for the +present meeting was laid upon the table, and the several members of the +little company selected articles upon which to display their +benevolence, and scattered off in groups of two and three to different +parts of the room, while a low, incessant hum of voices struck the ear +from all quarters. It appeared the devoted ladies were exerting their +tongues as well as fingers in the good cause. + +"Now, do you suppose it is true?" asked Miss Jerusha Sharpwell, at +length, in a raised voice, with horror and amazement depicted on her +sharp-featured face. + +"Why, Susan Simpson told me that Dilly Hootaway told her that little +Nanny Dutton told her, 'Pa had got a nice lamb shut up in a pen, and +they were going to have it killed for Christmas,'" said Mrs. Dorothy +Sykes, in reply to her companion's startled exclamation. + +"Enough said," returned Miss Jerusha, with a toss of her tall head; "now +such things ought not to pass unnoticed, I say." + +This was uttered in so loud a tone that the attention of all in the room +was roused, and several voices demanded what was the matter. + +"Matter enough," said Miss Sharpwell; "that thievish Oliver Dutton has +stolen a sheep from the widow Orville." + +"La! have you just heard of it, sister Sharpwell?" exclaimed Mrs. +Fleetwood; "I knew it a week ago." + +"You did, did you?" said Mrs. Sykes; "why, it was only stolen last +night." + +"Perhaps Mr. Dutton has stolen two sheep," suggested Mrs. Aidy. + +"No doubt, no doubt," put in Miss Jerusha, much excited. + +"Well, ladies," observed Mrs. Milder, "as I am perfectly sure, I may +safely affirm that Mr. Dutton has stolen no sheep from Mrs. Orville." + +"How do you know he has not?" demanded Sykes and Sharpwell in a breath. + +"Because Mrs. Orville has no sheep," returned Mrs. Milder, quietly. + +"Well, now, was there ever such a place as this is coming to be? No one +can believe a thing unless they see it with their own eyes," exclaimed +Mrs. Sykes, in an indignant tone. "I'm sure I heard Dutton had got a +lamb for Christmas; and how could the poor critter come by it unless he +stole it somewhere; and as Mrs. Orville lives alone, I thought likely he +would take advantage of that, and steal it from her, for I didn't know +but what she kept sheep." + +"Very natural, Mrs. Sykes, that you should thus suppose," chimed in Miss +Jerusha. "No one questions your honor or veracity. But what were you +saying, Miss Gaddie? I thought you were speaking of Mrs. Orville's +daughter that went off south a year or two ago." + +"I was merely remarking that Mrs. Orville received a letter from Alice +last week, and sis, who used to be acquainted with her, called to +inquire after her welfare." + +"Well, what did she hear?" asked Miss Sharpwell. + +"Not much, did you, sis?" asked the elder Miss Gaddie of her younger +sister. + +"No, I didn't _hear_ much, but I _see_ enough," answered that +interesting miss. + +"Lord bless us, child!" exclaimed Miss Jerusha. "What did you see?" + +"Why, Mrs. Orville was blubbering like a baby when I entered, but she +tried to hush up after a while." + +"Mercy to me!" exclaimed Mrs. Sykes; "her daughter must be dead or come +to some awful disgrace away off there." + +"No, she is not dead," said Miss Gaddie, "for her mother said she was +well, and spoke of returning home next spring or summer." + +"O, dear! these young girls sent off alone in the world most always come +to some harm," said Miss Sharpwell, with a rueful expression of +countenance. + +"True, true, sister Jerusha," returned Mrs. Sykes, "what should I think +of sending my Henrietta off so?" + +"Sure enough, sister Sykes," said Miss Sharpwell. "We ought not, +however, to forsake our friends in adversity. Let us call on Mrs. +Orville, and sympathize in her affliction." + +"With all my heart, sister Jerusha. I am a mother, and can appreciate a +mother's feelings over a beloved child's downfall and disgrace," said +Mrs. Sykes, with a distressful expression of pity distorting her +countenance. + +And thus in the mint of the Ladies' Benevolent Society was cast, coined +and made ready for current circulation, the tale of poor Alice Orville's +imaginary shame and ruin. Yet faster flew those Christian ladies' +Christian fingers for the poor heathen, while they thus discussed the +slang and gossip of the village. + +At length the president arose, and said the hour for adjournment had +arrived. She complimented the ladies on their prompt attendance and +enthusiastic devotion to the good cause. "Who can tell the results that +may follow from this little gathering of Christian sisters on this dark, +rainy evening?" she exclaimed. "What mind can conceive the mighty +influence these seemingly insignificant articles your ready tact and +skill have put together, may exert on the heathen world? Even this +scarlet pin-cushion may save some soul from death 'mid the spicy groves +of Ceylon's isle." [Tremendous sensation, as the lady president waved +the pin-ball to and fro.] "But language would fail me to enumerate the +benefits this holy organization of Christians is destined to bestow on +benighted Pagandom. We will now listen to a hymn from the sisters +Gaddies, and adjourn to Wednesday next, at 2 o'clock, P.M., at the house +of Mrs. Huldah Fleetfoot." + +The hymn was sung, and the "Ladies' Literary Benevolent Combination for +Foreign Aid" duly adjourned to the time and place aforementioned. + +We have seen that Miss Jerusha Sharpwell and Mrs. Dorothy Sykes had +agreed to call on Mrs. Orville, and condole with her on her daughter's +disgrace; but those benevolently-disposed ladies deemed it expedient to +call first at sundry places in the village and repeat the lamentable +tale, probably to increase the stock of sympathy; so Mrs. Orville heard +the sad story of her daughter's shame from several different sources, +ere these good ladies, their hearts overflowing with the "milk of human +kindness," came to sympathize in her affliction. + +She received them with her accustomed urbanity and politeness, while +they cast wondering glances toward each other; probably that they had +not found Mrs. Orville in hysterical tears. But Miss Sharpwell, nothing +daunted, and determined to sympathize, readily expressed her admiration +of Mrs. Orville's fortitude of mind, that she could support herself with +so much calmness, under so great an affliction. + +"I do not know as I quite understand you, Miss Sharpwell," remarked Mrs. +Orville, in a calm tone, and fixing her clear eyes steadily on her +visitor's face. "I have experienced no severe affliction of late. I have +lost no sheep, as I had none to lose." + +"La! then that was all a flyin' story about Dutton's stealing your +lamb," broke in Mrs. Sykes. "Well, I'm glad to find it so; but I wonder +where the poor critter _did_ get it?" + +"I can enlighten you on that point," said Mrs. Orville; "Mrs. Milder +presented him with it for a Christmas dinner." + +"_She_ did?" exclaimed Miss Sharpwell. "Why couldn't she have said +so at the sewing society, the other day, then, when we were talking +about it, and thus settled the matter in all our minds? I hate this sly, +underhanded work. But we must not forget our errand, sister Sykes." + +"By no means," observed the latter. "Dear Mrs. Orville, we are come to +sympathize with you in a far greater affliction than the loss of a sheep +would prove--the loss of a daughter's fair fame." + +"You grow more and more enigmatical," said Mrs. Orville, smiling; "my +daughter has lost neither her health nor fair fame, as you express it. I +received a letter from her last week. She was well, and purposes to +return home the coming summer." + +"Why, goodness, is it so?" exclaimed Sykes; "we heard as how you had +awful news of Alice, and were well-nigh distracted about her." + +"I heard a report to that effect," said Mrs. Orville; "but whence it +originated I cannot say. It has no foundation in truth." + +"Well, what an awful wicked place this is getting to be! I declare it +makes my blood run cold to think of it," said Miss Jerusha, with a pious +horror depicted on her countenance. + +"And religious prayer-meetings kept up, and a Christian sewing circle in +the place too," added Mrs. Sykes. "I declare wickedness is increasing to +a fearful extent. We must be going, sister Jerusha. I declare I can +hardly sit still, I feel so for the sinners of this village." + +"Mrs. Orville, I am glad the stories reported concerning your daughter +are false, for _your_ sake," said Miss Sharpwell, as the sympathetic +ladies rose to depart; but she added, in her most emphatic tone, "I +tremble for the sakes of those who put those stories in circulation. +Good-day, my friend." + + + + + CHAPTER VI. + + "I tell you I love him dearly, + And he loves me well I know; + It seems as if I could nearly + Eat him up, I love him so." + + +"Well, sis, how do you like New Orleans?" asked Wayland Morris of his +sister Winnie, as he entered her quiet little study-chamber one evening +after the toil of the day was over. + +"O, I like it well enough, Wayland," she answered; "that is, I like my +boarding-place here with Mrs. Pulsifer, I like my dear, kind teacher, +Aunt Debby, and I like my playmates." + +"And is there anything you do not like, my sister?" asked Wayland, +observing she hesitated. + +"Yes, two things." + +"What are they?" + +"First, I don't like to have you work so hard to support me in +idleness." + +"In idleness, Winnie?" + +"Yes, or what is just the same thing, I mean earning nothing to support +myself. I could learn some trade, and thus obtain money sufficient for +all my wants, and give you some, too, if you would but let me do it." + +"My brave little sis," said Wayland, drawing her to his bosom, "have I +not told you that when you have acquired an education, you can become a +teacher, which will surely prove an occupation more congenial to your +taste, and by it you can gain an ample competence for all immediate +necessities?" + +"But it will take a great deal of money to procure an education," said +Winnie, looking doubtfully in her brother's face. + +"Not a very great deal, my prudent little sis," laughed Wayland, "and I +can easily furnish you with the sum needful." + +"And, when I'm a teacher, will you let me repay all you have expended on +me?" + +"Yes, yes, if that will put your mind at rest." + +"Ah, but I fear it will be beyond my power to repay _all_ you are +expending on your foolish little sis! You are growing thin and pale, +brother, and you have none of the joyous spring and laughter with which +you used to chase my pretty fawns away up there on the green shores of +Tennessee." + +"I am older and graver now, Winnie; besides, I often think of our dear +mother, sleeping there in death's embrace, and of our being orphans in +the wide world." + +"O, it is very sad, brother!" said the young girl, bursting into tears. + +"Do not weep so bitterly," said Wayland, endeavoring to soothe her +grief; "you said there were two things you did not like. I have +dispensed with one; now tell me the other." + +"O, never mind that now!" said Winnie, quickly; "assist me in my Algebra +lesson, there's a good brother." + +"Yes, after you have told me what I have asked." + +"Well, it is a foolish thing, you will say. You know Jack Camford?" + +"Yes; do you?" inquired Wayland in surprise. + +"He comes to our school this term," said Winnie, demurely. + +"And he is the other thing you do not like, is he?" + +"Why, no, brother; he is not a thing, is he?" + +"Well, perhaps not; but what is it you do not like?" + +"Why, I don't like to have the girls tease me, and say he comes to our +school just to see me," said Winnie, averting her face. + +Wayland's brow darkened at these words, and he was some time silent. + +"Are you angry, brother?" asked Winnie at length. + +"No, Winnie, not angry, but pained. My sister, this young Camford is not +a fit person for you to associate with." + +"Why not?" exclaimed Winnie. + +Wayland gazed in her face, and felt it was time to speak. "Winnie, would +you have for a friend the son of a man who robbed your father of his +fortune and hurried him into the grave?" + +She was silent. "Adieu now, sister," continued Wayland, "I will call and +see you to-morrow evening," and with a tender kiss on the soft cheek, he +left her in her first young, girlish love-sorrow. Bitterly she charged +him with cold, unfeeling cruelty; for she intuitively perceived the +drift of those few words. "But was her poor Jack to suffer for his +father's errors? No; thrice no! and she longed to lay her head on his +bosom and tell him all her sorrows, for he was not stern and cruel, like +brother Wayland. No, he loved her dearly, as she loved him." + + * * * + +"Thunder and Mars! what's to pay now, I wonder?" exclaimed Esq. Camford, +rushing pell-mell into the dining room, where his family were assembled +at breakfast, and throwing his delicate wife into hysterics. + +"O, Thisbe! run for the nerve-reviver," shrieked Mrs. Camford. "O, +Adolphus! why will you not regard my tremulous nerves, and not affright +me thus? What desperate thing has happened? O, Adolphus! you'll be the +death of me." + +"I'll be the death of that cursed young vagabond, John Camford," blurted +forth the squire, in a tone of terrible rage. + +"O, my son, my brilliant among my jewels! how has he incurred your +displeasure?" faintly articulated Mrs. Camford. + +"Why, I saw the graceless scamp tugging a girl through the French market +this morning, filling her hands with bouquets and all sorts of +fol-de-rols. There is where the money goes he wheedles out of me every +week; but I'll fix the young rapscallion. Next thing, we shall have some +creole girl, or mulatto wench introduced to the family as Mrs. Camford, +junior." + +The squire fairly foamed at the mouth, with anger. His fair consort was +in frantic hysterics, beating the floor with her heels, and exclaiming, + +"O, mercy, mercy! my son, my Daniel, Henry, Thomas, Lewis, John! my +brilliant, among my jewels! O, spare him for the love of Heaven, my +husband, my adored Adolphus!" + +Thisbe was following her mistress and bobbing the nerve-reviver to her +nose, but it failed to produce the usual effect. All the servants in +attendance stood with their mouths agape, while the three jewel +daughters proceeded quietly with their breakfast, and Alice sat among +them, a silent spectator of the scene. And now, as if to cap the climax, +in walked the culprit, Mr. Jack Camford, in _propria persona_, looking +as unconcerned and innocent as if nothing had occurred to displace him +in his father's good graces. At sight of her brilliant son, Mrs. Camford +shrieked and fell prostrate on the floor, and Thisbe, in the moment of +excitement, seized the senseless form and carried it from the room with +as much ease as she would have borne a cotton-bale. No sooner had the +door closed on his delicate spouse, than Esq. Camford bellowed forth, +"Daniel Henry Thomas Lewis John Camford, you rascal, come and stand +before your father!" The son instantly did as commanded. Doffing his +"Kossuth," and passing one hand through the long locks of curling black +hair, he swept it away from his clear, smooth brow, and stood +confronting his wrathful parent with a calm, unembarrassed aspect. He +was certainly a handsome young fellow, and Winnie Morris was quite +excusable for loving him a little in her girlish heart. The father's +anger softened as he gazed on his fair-looking boy, and when he spoke, +his voice had lost all its former harshness. + +"Jack, my lad," he said, "why do you stand gazing about you thus? Come, +and sit down to your breakfast." + +"You bade me stand before you, father, therefore I did so," said the +son, now approaching the table and assuming a seat beside his cousin +Alice. + +There were a few moments of silence, during which all were occupied with +their meal. At length Esq. Camford inquired, casually enough, "Jack, +what young lady was that I saw you with in the French market this +morning?" + +Jack, at the moment helping Alice to a snipe, answered carelessly, +"Young lady? O, Miss Winnie Morris, sister of Wayland Morris, editor of +our Literary Gazette." + +Alice suddenly dropped her bird on the cloth, and Esq. Camford sprang +from the table, and, seizing his hat, bolted from the apartment, +overturning two servants in his way, and exclaiming at the top of his +voice, "Thunder and Mars! Thunder and Mars!" + +Jack burst into a hearty laugh as his father cleared the door, and said, +"Was there ever a theatre could equal our house for enacting scenes? +Why, Alice, where are you going?" he continued, observing her rise from +the table; "stay a moment; will you be disengaged when I come in to +dinner? I want a few moments' private conversation with you." + +"I shall be at your service, cousin," she answered, closing the door +behind her. + +"What have you to say to Alice?" inquired Miss Celestina, the "belle and +beauty," in a querulous tone; picking at a bunch of flowers that laid +beside Josephine's plate. + +"O, please don't spoil my flowers, sister!" said Miss Pheny; "they were +sent to me this morning by a particular friend." + +"Faugh! what particular friend have _you_ got, I wonder?" sneered the +beauty; "some foolish love affair afoot here, to rival Jack's, I +suppose. Ha, ha! what silly things children are! But come, bubby, tell +me what you want with Alice?" + +"That's my business," returned the youth proudly. + +"To talk about your sweetheart, no doubt, and solicit her sympathy in +your love troubles. You'll find father won't have you toting about with +this beggar girl, I can tell you!" said the fair Celestina, spitefully. + +"She is not a beggar," retorted Jack with flashing eyes, "but a far more +beautiful and accomplished lady than many who have had the best +advantages of fashionable society." + +"O, of course, she is all perfection in your eyes at present," returned +the beauty in an aggravating tone, as she rose to retire; "but this day +six months I wonder how she will appear to your fickle, capricious +gaze?" + +"If you were worth a retort, I'd make one," said Jack, with a glance of +angry contempt on his sister, as he took his cap and left the apartment. + + + + + CHAPTER VII. + + "Thy haunting influence, how it mocks + My efforts to forget! + The stamp love only seals but once + Upon my heart is set." + + +Winnie Morris was laying her pretty head on her kind teacher's shoulder, +and pleading, O, so eloquently, with her sweet lips and eyes! + +"Indeed, I want to go very much, dear Aunt Debby, and Jack will be so +disappointed if you say no. He sent me to plead, because he said nobody +could resist me. Will you not let me go this once, if I'll promise never +to ask again?" + +"The theatre is not a fit place for young girls," said the teacher, with +a serious mien; "by going there they obtain false ideas of life." + +"But I won't, Aunt Debby, I'm sure I won't, by going just once." + +The good-natured teacher patted the soft cheek of her winsome pleader, +and the gentle act seemed to convince the child that she was gaining her +point. + +"O, Debby, Debby!" she exclaimed, throwing her white arms round the good +woman's neck; "you will let me go with Jack to-night, I know." + +"For which do you most wish to go: to see the play, or to be with him?" +asked Debby, still delaying the wished-for permission. + +"O, to be with him!" answered Winnie; "and I could not be with him +unless I went out somewhere, for brother Wayland is cross at Jack; only +think of it--cross at my Jack! And he asks Mrs. Pulsifer whenever Jack +comes to see me, and then scolds; or not exactly that,--but says I ought +not to associate with a person he does not approve, and that Jack is +wild and unsteady, and won't love me long; but he doesn't know him as +well as I do, or he wouldn't say so, I'm sure;" and Winnie grew +eloquent, and her cheeks flushed vermilion red, while she spoke of her +girlish love. But Miss Deborah's face had assumed a less yielding +expression during her fair pupil's recital. + +"So it appears your brother is not pleased with young Mr. Camford," she +remarked, as Winnie ceased; "under the circumstances, you must apply to +him for permission to accompany Master Jack to the theatre." + +"O, dear! I wish I had not said a word," sobbed Winnie. "'Tis no use to +go to Wayland, for I know he would refuse my request; so I may as well +make up my mind to pass the evening alone in my room. I'm more sorry for +Jack, after all, than myself, he will be so sadly disappointed. +Good-night, Aunt Debby," and with dejected aspect the young girl put on +her little straw hat and left the school-room. + +The evening stole on, and Jack Camford was beside his cousin Alice, in +her quiet apartment. + +"I don't see why Wayland Morris should hate me so inveterately, as to +forbid his sister to receive any calls from me," remarked the youth, +bitterly. + +"How do you know he does so?" inquired Alice, without raising her eyes +from the German worsted pattern on which she was occupied. + +"Because Winnie told me so, to-night. I had invited her to attend the +theatre, but it appears she dared not ask her brother's permission, for +fear of a refusal," said Jack, in a troubled tone. "You are acquainted +with Mr. Morris, Alice?" + +"No," returned she, quickly. + +"Why, he calls on you." + +"He did call at the house once or twice, soon after my arrival here, I +believe." + +"Once or twice!" exclaimed Jack, in surprise; "why, he was here almost +every day for several months, and we all thought you were declared +lovers." + +"Hush, Jack! how you are running on!" said Alice, with a flushed +countenance. + +"Well, don't tell me you are not acquainted with young Morris, then," +returned Jack. + +"I have not seen him, as you are aware, for the last six months," +remarked Alice. + +"But you _could_ see him very easily." + +"So could you." + +"Ah, Alice! I thought you would do me so small a favor." + +"As what?" + +"See Mr. Morris, and ascertain why he opposes my addresses to his +sister." + +"Is he the only one who opposes you?" + +"You allude to my family; but not one of them should control me, in this +matter, if I could win her from her brother." + +"You are very young, Jack; wait a few years, and your feelings will +change." + +The boy looked on his cousin as she uttered these words with so much +apparent indifference, and exclaimed: + +"O, Alice! you have never loved, or you could not talk thus to me," and +hurriedly left the apartment. + +Alice heard him rush down the hall stairs and into the street. "Poor +Jack!" she sighed; "but what could I do for him? To place myself before +Wayland Morris, and plead my cousin's suit with his sister, when +probably the very cause of his objection to their acquaintance is that +the lover is a relation of mine; and it appears that by some +misapprehension I have as unwittingly as unfortunately incurred his +displeasure. What other reason can there be for the cessation of his +visits, but that he does not desire to see me?" + +Ay, what other indeed, Alice? If you would have Wayland's love, there +could not be a stronger proof that 'tis yours, than this apparent +neglect and forgetfulness. Love joys in mystery, + + "Shows most like hate e'en when 'tis most in love, + And when you think 'tis countless miles away, + Is lurking close at hand." + +So, be not too sad, Ally, dear, when the brave steamboat bears you up +the majestic Mississippi, and far onward over the beautiful Ohio, amid +her wild, enchanting scenery, and the dashing railroad cars at length +set you down on a quiet summer evening at your mother's rural threshold. +Try hard to say, "I have forgotten Wayland Morris;" but your heart will +rebel; and try harder to say, "I shall never behold his face again;" +still "hope will tell a flattering tale;" and try hardest of all to +exclaim, "I'll fly his presence forever." But yet, away down low in your +beating bosom, a little voice will love to tantalize and whisper--"Will +you, though?" + + + + + CHAPTER VIII. + + "Come, clear the stage and give us something new, + For we are tired to death with these old scenes." + + +Night after night, high up in the sky, the stars shone wildly bright, +but the heaven refused its grateful showers and the earth lay parched to +a cinder beneath the blazing sunbeams. The mighty Mississippi shrunk +within its banks to the size of a mere wayside rivulet, and the long +lines of boats lay lazily along the levees. No exchange of produce or +merchandise could be effected between the upper and lower regions of the +great Mississippi valley, and the consequence was universal depression +in trade and heavy failures. Esquire Camford went among the first in the +general crash, and his fair consort's nerves went also. The +nerve-reviver failed to produce the least soothing effect in this +dreadful emergency, and she sank into a bed-ridden ghost of hysteria, +with Thisbe for her constant attendant, to minister to her numerous +wants, and feed her with lobsters' claws and Graham crackers, which +constituted her sole food and nourishment. + +As for the "belle and beauty," she, on a day, married Mr. Gilbert, in +pearl-colored satin, and that gentleman chancing to overturn a +sherry-cobbler on the fair bride's robe, the delicate creature went into +a nervous paroxysm, which so alarmed and terrified the happy bridegroom, +that, when he recovered his senses, he found himself on the far, blue +ocean, with the adorable Celestina's marriage-portion, consisting of the +snug sum of fifty thousand dollars, wrapped up in a blue netting-purse +in his coat pocket. How the great bank-bills grinned at him, as if to +charge him with the wanton robbery and desertion! He gazed around in a +bewildered manner, and the first face that met his eye was that of his +brother-in-law, Jack Camford, who advanced with a woeful smile +distorting his fine features, and exclaimed, + +"Upon my word, you're a lucky dog, Gilbert!" + +"How so?" demanded the latter. + +"To have married my sister the day before father failed, and thus +secured a pretty fair sum of money; and now to have escaped a tedious +wife and got safely off with it in your pocket," said Jack, with a +theatrical flourish of manner. + +"But what does all this mean? Why are you here, and where is this ship +bound?" + +"Well, I'm here--hum--I don't know why, save that life was intolerable +at home after the smash-up, and Winnie Morris heard I was getting wild, +and turned a cold shoulder on me, I fancied. As to this craft, that +reels and tumbles about like a reef of drunkards, she is bound for +Australia; so I suppose, in due time, you and I will be landed on the +shores of the golden Ophir, if we don't get turned into Davy Jones' +locker by some mishap." + +"Australia!" exclaimed Gilbert, "what the deuce am I going there for; +and how came I in this place?" + +"All I know is, I found you here asleep when I came aboard, and here you +have been asleep for the last three days, wearing off the effects of +your wedding-feast, I suppose. I thought best not to disturb you, as at +sea one may as well be sleeping as waking." + +"But, Jack Camford! I cannot go to Australia," said Gilbert, still half +confounded. + +"How are you going to avoid it?" asked Jack, laughing. + +"True! but what will my bride say? Here I hold her fortune in my hand." + +"Exactly! Divide it with me, if you please, and we'll increase it +four-fold e'er a year in the golden land." + +"But I don't like the idea of going to Australia!" pursued Gilbert. + +"Neither do I, very well," answered Jack; "but when folks can't do as +they will, they must do as they can, I've heard say." + +Thus we leave our Australian adventurers and return to the land from +which they are so rapidly receding. We didn't know what else to do here +in the eighth chapter, reader, unless we capped the climax, cleared the +stage, and scattered the characters; for we were quite as tired of them +as you were, and wanted to get them off our hands in some way. + +A few people think "Effie Afton" can tell stories tolerably well. But +she can't, reader! We speak candidly, for we know "a heap" more about +her than you do. There may be those in the wide world who hug themselves +in the belief that she can tell _little_ fibs and _large_ fibs pretty +flippantly. Well, let them continue thus to believe, if they choose! We +shall not pause to say ay, yes, or nay; and we also entertain a private +opinion, now publicly expressed, that there are people within the +limited circle of our acquaintance who can not only give utterance to +_little_ and _large_ fibs, but make their whole lives and actions play +the lie to their thoughts and feelings. But as to "Effie's" telling long +magazine tales,--pshaw! she is the most unsystematic creature in the +world. She just humps down in a big rocking-chair, with one sort of +_foolscap_ in her _hand_, and another sort on her _head_, with an old +music-book to lay the sheets on, a lead-pencil for a pen, and thus +equipped, writes chapter one, and dashes _in medias res_ at once, +without an idea as to how, where, or when the story thus commenced is to +find its terminus or end. This is the way she does, reader; for we have +seen her time and again. Well, she scratches on "like mad" till her old +lead-pencil is "used up." Then she sharpens the point, and rushes on +wilder than before. She don't eat much, and if any one calls her to +dinner, never heeds them; but when she conceives herself arrived at a +suitable stopping-place, drops her paper, runs to the pantry, snatches a +piece of gingerbread, and back to her scribbling again, munching it as +she writes. + +This is precisely the way she brings her "stories" into existence; but, +lest we write her out of favor too rapidly, we'll leave the subject, and +back to our tale again, recommencing with a new chapter, which is-- + + + + + CHAPTER IX. + + "And there are haunts in that far land-- + O, who shall dream or tell + Of all the shaded loveliness + She hides in grot and dell!" + + +O, often, often, far from this, have we watched the great red sun +sinking behind the vast stretching prairie, while all the broad west +seemed like a surging flood of gold beyond an ocean of green; and often +have we beheld day's glorious orb looming above the soft blue waters of +the placid bay, while the joyous birds soared up the sparkling dome of +heaven, their little throats almost bursting with thrilling melody, and +the balmy south wind came laden with the perfume of ten thousand +ordorous flowers! + +O, sweet land upon the tropic's glowing verge, what star-bright memories +we have of thee! How deeply treasured in our heart of hearts are all thy +joys and pleasures,--ay, and griefs and sorrows too! But as the spot +where this long-crushed and drooping spirit heard those first, low, +preluding strains, foretokenings that its long-enfeebled energies were +wakening from their death-like slumber to breathe response to the +thousand tones in sea and air that called so loudly on them to arouse +once more to life and action, it will ever be most truly dear. And when +again life's fetters clog with the ice and snow of those frigid lands, +we'll long to fly again to those climes of song and sunny ray, and +forget earth's cankering cares in the contemplation of Nature's +luxuriant charms. But we grow abstract. + +Come with us, reader, if you will, over the prairies of Texas, gorgeous +with their many-colored flowers, dotted with the dark-green live-oaks, +and watered by pellucid rivers. To that log-house, standing under the +boughs of a wide-spreading pecan tree, let us wend our way. + +There is a gray-headed man sitting in a deer-skin-bottomed chair, on the +rude gallery, and gazing with weary eye on the lovely scenery around +him. Two young ladies are standing near, their countenances wearing +sullen expressions of discontent and sorrow. + +"So this is Texas, father," remarked the elder of the two, at length. "I +wonder how you ever expect to earn a living here, for my part." + +"By tilling the soil, my child, and growing cotton and sugar; fine +country for that. Land rich as mud and cheap as dirt. Why, I have +purchased five hundred acres for a mere trifle. Zounds! I feel like +amassing a new fortune here in a few years," said the old man, suddenly +rousing from his stupor. + +"Well, I'm perfectly disgusted," said the younger lady, "and wish I had +run off to Australia with brother Jack and Celestina's faithless +husband." + +"I wish I was in that convent upon the Mississippi, where poor sister +Celestina is now," sighed the elder. + +"Pshaw, girls! you'll both marry wild Texan rangers before two years," +said the old gentleman, who was no less a personage than Esq. Camford, +formerly the wealthiest merchant in New Orleans, but now a poor Texan +emigrant in his log-cabin on the Cibolo. Well, he was a better man now +than when rolling in the luxury of ill-gotten wealth, for adversity +never fails to teach useful lessons; and it had taught this +world-hardened, conscience-seared man, that "honesty is the best +policy." + +A tremulous voice from within attracted the attention of the group on +the gallery. "Mercy, mercy, Thisbe, take that viper away, and let me out +of this bed! it is full of frightful serpents." + +"Why, no 'taint neither, Missus," said poor Thisbe, struggling to lift +her mistress from the pillows; "there beant a snake nowheres about, only +a little striped 'izard, and I driv' him away." + +The husband now entered. + +"O, Adolphus!" exclaimed the nerve-stricken wife, "that you should have +brought me to a death like this! to be shot by Indians, devoured by +bears, and bitten by rattlesnakes!" + +"Thunder and Mars! nobody's dead yet, and this is a fine, healthy, +growing country," said the squire, in a loud, good-humored voice. + +"Alas! what am I to eat?" continued the nervous lady, "I can have no +claws and crackers in these wilds." + +"Let Thisbe catch you a young alligator from the river; that will be +something new for a relish." + +"O, Adolphus! how can you mock at the horrors that surround us? My +nerves, my nerves! you will never learn to regard them." + +"No, probably not," returned the husband; "but let me tell you, Nabby, I +don't believe nerves are of any available use out here in Texas. They'll +do for effect in the fashionable saloons of a city; but what think a +wild Camanche would say if he chanced some broiling-hot morning to catch +you in dishabille, and you begged him to retreat and spare your nerves? +Why, it would be all gibberish to him." + +"O, Adolphus! how can you horrify me thus? And these lovely jewels to be +devoured by hyenas and swallowed by crocodiles! O, my nerves! Thisbe, my +nerve-reviver this moment!" + +"There ain't a bit on't left, Missus; 'twas all in the trunk dat tumbled +out o' the cart when we swum through dat ar river," said the poor +servant, in a tone of anxious dismay. + +"Heaven save me now!" exclaimed the panic-stricken lady. "Adolphus, you +must go to New Orleans to-morrow and bring me some." + +"Thunder and Mars! You forget we are eight hundred miles from there, and +what do you suppose would become of you all before I got back? You would +be mounted on pack-mules, carried off to the Indian frontier, and made +squaws of." + +"O, father, don't leave us, I entreat of you!" sobbed Susette, on +hearing these words. + +"Why did I not die ere I came to this?" groaned Mrs. Camford. "Why did I +not die when my eldest jewel and brilliant son were torn from my +embrace? Alas! for what awful fate am I reserved?" + +"Come, Nabby, this would do on the boards of the St. Charles, but toads +and lizards can't appreciate theatricals. Pheny, can't you manage to get +up some sort of a dinner out of the corn-meal and sweet potatoes I +bought of the old Mynheer this morning; and there's a few eggs and a ham +in the larder too. I declare I relish this new life already;--it is a +change, Pheny, isn't it?" asked the father, looking in his fair +daughter's face. + +"Yes," answered she, "and if it wasn't for the snakes and lizards, I +wouldn't complain." + +"Never mind them," returned the squire, bravely; "they shan't hurt you. +We'll have a nice, cosey home here a year from to-day." + + + + + CHAPTER X. + + "It was the calm, moonshiny hour, + And earth was hushed and sleeping; + The hour when faithful love is e'er + Its fondest vigils keeping." + + +Clear as amber fell the moonlight on the forms of Wayland and Winnie +Morris, as arm in arm they roamed the calm, delightful shores of Lake +Pontchartrain. + +"Well, sister," said Wayland, "four weeks have passed since I last saw +you, and how have you sped in your capacity of teacher?" + +"O, bravely, Wayland! 'Tis so delightful to feel I am of some importance +in the world, and that I'm laying up money to repay my brother, as far +as I am able, for all he has done for me! You should see me in my little +school-room, with my pupils round me. I fancy no queen e'er felt more +pride and satisfaction in beholding her subjects kneeling before her, +than I do with my infant class leaning their tiny arms on my lap and +looking in my face as they repeat from my lips the evening prayer." + +"I am pleased to find you so content and happy," said Wayland. + +"O, I am indeed so, and indebted to you for all I enjoy!" returned +Winnie. + +"And what of Jack Camford, sis?" asked the brother, with a mischievous +smile. + +"O, I have not forgotten him yet, naughty Wayland!" answered she; "I +dream of him most every night." + +"Well, I would not seek to control your dreams, sis; but I fancy they'll +occur less and less often, and by and by cease altogether." + +"You think I never loved Jack," said Winnie. + +"I think you had a girlish fancy for him. As to woman's holy, unchanging +love, you have never yet experienced it, my little sister." + +"When shall I, then? I'm sixteen, and a preceptress." + +"Yes." + +"But don't you think Jack loved me, Wayland?" + +"I think he had a boy's fancy for you, which may deepen into love with +time, or may be wholly dissipated from his bosom." + +"But why did you object to him so strongly? You well-nigh broke my heart +at one time. It was not like you to hate the son for the parent's +crimes." + +"No, it was not for the father's errors that I bade you shun the son; +but because I discovered in him a frivolous, faulty character, that had +no strength of purpose, or fixed principles of action; and I dreaded the +influence such a person might exert over your youthful, pliant mind." + +"Now, what if he should return some of these years, and lay his life, +love and fortune at my feet?" suggested Winnie, archly. + +"Should he return with the elements that make the man stamped on his +face and conduct, I would never object to his addresses to my sister, if +she favored them," said Wayland. + +"How the poor Camfords have suffered!" remarked Winnie, after a pause. + +"They have, indeed," returned Wayland; "all our wrongs have been +expiated, and I raised not a finger to avenge them. My mother on her +death-bed bade me remember 'Vengeance was the Lord's,' and, thanks to +her name, I have done so." + +"Where are the family?" inquired Winnie. + +"Emigrated to Texas; and my brother editor, Mr. Lester, has purchased +their former residence, and I am boarding there at present. He has +extended to you a cordial invitation to pass your next vacation at his +mansion." + +"O, he is very kind! I shall be delighted to do so. Do you still like +editing as well as formerly, brother?" + +"Yes, it is an occupation suited to my tastes; and some of these years, +when I have sufficient capital, I want to go home to old Tennessee, and +erect a pretty rural cottage on the site of our former abode, and there +pass away life in peace and quietude with you, dear sister, if such a +prospect is pleasing to your mind. Or are you more ambitious?" + +"No, brother; ambition is for men, not women," said Winnie. + +"Yes, for men who love it," responded Wayland; "but my highest ambition +is to be happy; and I look for happiness alone in rural quiet and +seclusion. Do you accede to my project, sis?" + +"With all my heart." + +"Then see that you keep that heart free, and not, before I carry my plan +into execution, have given it to the charge of some gallant knight, and +left me desolate in my pretty cottage on the verdant shores of +Tennessee." + +"Ay, and see that you don't find some fairer flower to bloom in that +cottage home, and rudely toss me from the window," exclaimed Winnie, +with a merry laugh. + +"No fear of that," said Wayland; "now I must leave you. Expect me in a +week again." + +And with an affectionate salute the brother and sister parted. + + + + + CHAPTER XI. + + "Ay, there are memories that will not vanish, + Thoughts of the past we have no power to banish; + To show the heart how powerless mere will; + For we may suffer, and yet struggle still; + It is not at our choice that we forget-- + That is a power no science teaches yet, + The heart may be a dark and closed-up tomb, + But memory stands a ghost amid the gloom." + + +Miss Jerusha Sharpwell and Mrs. Fleetfoot had dropped in to take tea +with Mrs. Sykes on a pleasant September evening. The latter lady, as in +duty bound, was highly pleased to see her dear friends, and forthwith +ordered Hannah, her servant-girl, to make a batch of soda rolls, with a +bit of shortening rubbed in, and just step over to Mrs. Frye's, and ask +that good lady "if she would not be so very kind and obliging as to lend +Mrs. Sykes a plateful of her nice, sweet doughnuts, as she had visitors +come in unexpectedly, and was not quite prepared to entertain them as +she could wish." Thus were the guests provided for. + +"How happened it you were absent from the last sewing circle, sister +Sykes?" inquired Miss Sharpwell. "We had an unusually interesting +season. Several new names were added to our list, and sister Fleetfoot, +here, entertained us with a most amusing account of Pamela Gaddie's +marriage with Mr. Smith, the missionary to Bengal." + +"Indeed! I regret I was denied the pleasure of listening to the recital; +but company detained me from the circle." + +"Ah! who was visiting you?" asked Mrs. Fleetfoot. + +"The Churchills, from Cincinnati," answered Mrs. Sykes. "You know they +are particular friends of my husband." + +"Yes; is their son married yet?" + +"No; and he called on Alice Orville every day while he was here." + +"La, do tell me!" said Jerusha. "How long was he with you, Mrs. Sykes?" + +"A day and a half," returned that lady. "He came up in the morning-train +and returned next evening." + +"Well," said Mrs. Fleetfoot, "they do say Alice Orville is engaged to +Fred. Milder." + +"Sakes alive!" exclaimed Miss Jerusha. "I never heard a word about it +before! Well, Mrs. Milder was always standing up for Mrs. Orville. I +thought it meant something. Now I remember, Fred. was at the last sewing +circle and walked home with Alice. I thought strange of it then, for it +was hardly a dozen yards to her house, and some of us young ladies had +to walk five times as far all alone. Who told you of the engagement?" + +"La, I can't remember now!" said Mrs. Fleetfoot; "but I've heard of it +ever so many times." + +"Well, they'll make a pretty couple enough," observed Mrs. Sykes; +"though I rather fancied Alice was engaged to somebody off south, 'cause +she seems sort of downcast sometimes, and keeps so close since she got +home." + +"O, la, that's cause she's got wind of the story that was going about +here before she came back! I wonder if there was any truth in it?" said +Mrs. Fleetfoot. + +"I don't know; I never put much confidence in flying stories," remarked +Jerusha. + +"Neither do I!" said Mrs. Sykes; "or take the trouble to repeat, if I +chance to hear them." + +"Nor I!" chimed in Mrs. Fleetfoot. "If there is anything I mortally +abhor, it is a tattler and busybody." + +"Our sentiments, exactly!" exclaimed the other two ladies in concert. + +Hannah now entered and announced tea, and the trio of scrupulous, +conscientious ladies repaired to the dining-room to luxuriate on short +rolls and Mrs. Frye's neighborly doughnuts. + +Mrs. Orville had a pleasant residence on the lake shore, and everything +wore a brighter aspect in the eyes of the mother, since her beloved +daughter had returned to enliven the old home by her sunshiny presence. +But Alice had passed from the gay-hearted child to the thoughtful woman +in the two years she had been away, and there was a mild, pensive light +in her dark eye that spoke of a chastened spirit within. Still, she was +usually cheerful, and always, even in her most melancholy hours, an +agreeable companion. Beautiful in person, highly educated and +accomplished, her conversation, whether tinged with sadness or enlivened +by wit and humor, exercised a strange, fascinating power over her +listeners. + +Alice had left New Orleans with the expectation of having her cousin +Josephine spend the ensuing winter with her at the north; but shortly +after her arrival home a letter from her cousin informed her of their +fallen fortunes, and proposed emigration to Texas. As Alice knew not to +what part of that State to direct a reply, all further correspondence +was broken off between the parties. From Wayland Morris she never heard, +and knew naught concerning him, save by occasional articles from his pen +in southern journals, which were noticed with commendation and applause. +She tried hard to forget him; "for it is not right," she said, "to waste +my life and health on one who never thinks of me. But why did he awaken +a hope in my breast that he loved me, if that hope was to be withdrawn +as soon as it became necessary to my happiness?" + +"Alice, Alice!" exclaimed Mrs. Orville, as the fair girl stood in the +recess of a vine-covered window, absorbed in thoughts like these, "Mr. +Milder is coming through the gate; will you go out to receive him?" + +Alice roused from her reverie, and saying "Yes, mother," very quietly, +hastened through the hall to meet her visitor. + +"Good-evening, Mr. Milder!" said she, with a graceful courtesy. "Come +into the parlor. I have been laying the sin of ungallantry upon you for +the last three days." + +"It is the last charge I would have expected preferred against me by +you, Miss Orville!" said he, smiling. + +"What other would you sooner have expected?" she inquired, looping up +the snowy muslin curtains to admit the parting sunbeams. + +"One I would have dreaded far more to hear,--that of being too assiduous +in my attendance," returned he, in a low tone. + +Alice answered by changing the conversation, and, after an hour passed +in pleasant chit-chat, Fred. proposed a stroll on the lake shore. Alice +was soon ready, and they sallied forth. The weather was delightful, and +that walk along Erie's sounding shores was fraught with a life-interest +to one, and regretful sorrow to both. + +"I am going to Texas, Alice!" said Milder, as they reäpproached the +mansion of Mrs. Orville. + +"O, that you might find my cousin Josephine there, who is so good and +beautiful!" remarked Alice. + +"Would I might, if it would afford you a moment's pleasure," he +answered, in a dejected tone. + +"If you do, pray give her my love, and entreat her to write and inform +me of her welfare," said Alice, earnestly. + +"I shall be highly gratified to execute your commission," he answered; +"and now, good-by, Alice! May you be as happy as you deserve!" + +"And may you, also, Fred.!" said Alice, with tears in her eyes. One +lingering pressure of the hand, and he was gone. + +"Noble heart!" exclaimed Alice; "why could I not love him? Alas! a +tyrant grasp is on my soul, which, while it delights to hold me in its +toils, and tantalize and torment, will not love me, or let me love +another!" + +"Alice!" said a voice within. + +"Yes, mother, I'm coming," replied the daughter, entering the hall with +a languid step, and proceeding to divest herself of shawl and bonnet. + +"You have had a long stroll and look fatigued," remarked the fond +parent, noticing her daughter's flushed cheeks and hurried respiration, +as she flung herself into a large rocking-chair by the open window. +Where is Fred.?" + +"Gone home," said Alice. + +"Why did he not come in and rest a while?" + +"I forgot to invite him, I believe," returned Alice, briefly. + +"And did you not ask him to call at any future time?" + +"No, mother; he is going to Texas." + +"Indeed! How long has he entertained that idea?" asked Mrs. Orville in a +tone of astonishment. + +"Not long, I fancy. I told him to find cousin Josephine and entreat her +to write to me," said Alice, fanning her face with a great, flapping +feather fan. + +"I hope he may do so; and much do I wish your cousin might be here to +pass the winter, for I fear you will be lonely without some companion of +your own age," said Mrs. Orville, attentively regarding her daughter. + +"O, never fear for me, mother!" returned Alice. "I assure you I have +ample resources for enjoyment in my own breast. They only need occasion +to be called forth and put in exercise." + +"I hope it may prove thus," responded the tender mother. "Let us now +retire to our pleasant chamber, and I will do myself the pleasure of +listening to your rich voice, while you read a portion of Scripture, and +sing a sacred hymn." + +Thus mother and daughter retired; and while the old heart that had +passed beyond the youth-life of love and passion, rested calmly in its +tranquil sleep, the young heart by its side throbbed wildly, trembled, +wept and sighed; tossing restlessly on its pillow, haunted by ill-omened +dreams and ghastly phantom-shapes too hideous for reality. For there is +no rest, or calm, or quiet, for the passion-haunted breast. + + + + + CHAPTER XII. + + "'Twas one of love's wild freaks, I do suppose, + And who is there can reason upon those? + I'd like to see the one so bold." + + +The lively winter season was at its height in New Orleans, and all the +vast city astir with life and gayety. In the former wealthy home of the +Camfords, her wrought slippers resting on the polished grate in the +elegant parlor, sat a prim maiden lady, arrayed in steel-colored satin. +An embroidered muslin morning-cap was placed with an air of much +precision over her glossy brown _imported_ locks, and the pointed collar +around her neck was secured by a plain bow of fawn-colored ribbon. + +Suddenly the door opened, and a gentleman, of fine personal appearance, +and elegantly attired, entered the apartment, with hat and gloves in +hand. + +"Where is Winnie?" was the hasty inquiry. + +"I left her in her room half an hour ago," was the reply. + +"It is quite time we should go;--the theatre will be filled to +overflowing at Miss Julia's benefit," remarked the gentleman. "I wish +you would go with us, sister." + +"Theatres will do for girls and _fops_," said the lady; "_my_ mind +requires something solid and weighty to satisfy it." + +"Then I suppose Col. Edmunds suits you exactly," observed the gentleman, +laughing; "he is a real Sir John Falstaff in proportions." + +"I'm in no mood for your frivolous jests. If you were in a rational +temper I would like to ask you a question." + +"Well, out with it. I'm as rational at thirty as I ever will be, +probably." + +"You were becoming quite a decent man before this fly-a-way girl came +among us. Now I wish to know when she is going away?" + +"Heavens! I don't know; not at present, I hope," said the gentleman, +quickly. + +"Well, either she or I will leave pretty soon," returned the lady, +pursing up her lips with a stiff, determined expression; "she is such +a self-willed, obstinate little thing, and turns the house all +topsy-turvy, and makes such a racket and confusion, that I cannot and +_will_ not endure it longer. My mind requires quiet for contemplation." + +"Why, she seems to me like a sunbeam; like a canary-bird in the house, +sister; warming, and filling it with music." + +"She seems to me more like a hurricane, or wild-cat," remarked the lady, +spitefully. + +The gentleman laughed, and, at this juncture, in bounded the subject of +the discourse, arrayed in azure silk, a wreath of white flowers on her +head, and a wrought fan swinging by a ribbon at her delicate wrist. + +"Well, I've been waiting for you these ten minutes," said the gentleman, +gazing with admiration on the lovely being before him; "let us go now, +or I fear some impertinent person may intrude upon our reserved seats. +The carriage is at the door." + +"I'm sorry to have kept you waiting, Mr. Lester," said Winnie. + +"O, no apology, Miss Morris!" returned he, gayly; "gentlemen always +expect to wait for ladies; it is their privilege." + +"Miss Mary," said Winnie, advancing toward the prim lady by the grate, +"I fear I have misplaced some of your toilet articles, for I could not +find one half of mine. The chamber-maid had given them new places, and I +took the liberty to apply to yours, but I'll put them all right in the +morning." + +"O, it is very well, of course," returned the lady, sharply; "plain +enough who is mistress here." + +Winnie stood irresolute, gazing with astonishment on Miss Mary's angry, +flushed countenance, and at length turned her blue eyes toward the +gentleman, who was attentively regarding her features. + +"Come, Winnie," said he, opening the hall-door, "we shall be very late." + +The young girl quickly followed his direction. "Is brother Wayland to be +there?" she inquired, as the carriage rolled away. + +"I urged his attendance, and he half promised to go," answered the +gentleman; "but, if he fails, cannot you be contented with me alone for +one brief evening?" + +"O, yes, many!" returned Winnie. "I only wished he would go and not +confine himself to business so closely." + +"I wish he would relax his editorial labors, for his health demands it, +I think," said Mr. Lester. "We must induce him to quit the chair of +office, and take a trip up the river this spring." + +"I wish he would leave that dull, tedious printing-office a few weeks," +exclaimed Winnie. "He has long entertained a project of erecting a +little cottage on the shore of Tennessee, where we used to live, for +himself and me, and I think he has sufficient money now to carry his +plan into effect; don't you, Mr. Lester?" + +"Undoubtedly he has; but such a proceeding would not please me at all," +answered the gentleman. + +"Why not?" asked Winnie, turning her eyes quickly toward her companion. + +He smiled to meet her startled glance, and said, "I will explain my +reasons at some future time, Winnie. We are now at the theatre." + +Mr. Lester handed the fair girl from the carriage, and they made their +way through the crowd. Wayland met them on the steps, and accompanied +them home after the play. + +As Winnie passed the door of Miss Mary Lester's room to reach her own, +she observed it standing wide open, and wondered to behold it thus, as +Miss Mary was accustomed to bar and bolt it close, for fear of thieves +and housebreakers. But, fatigued and sleepy, she passed on, and soon +forgot her surprise after gaining the privacy of her own apartment. +Early in the morning she was roused from slumber by a furious knocking +on her door. She sprang up and demanded, "Who is there?" + +"Me, Miss Winnie, only me--Aunt Eunice; and do you know what is become +o' Missus Mary?" exclaimed an excited voice without; "her door is wide +open this morning, and nobody slept in her bed last night." + +Winnie was by this time fairly roused, and, opening her door, the poor +servant-girl flounced into the room, the very picture of terror and +affright. + +"Has your master risen, and does he know of his sister's absence?" +inquired Winnie. + +"No, nobody is up but me, and Missus Mary always tells me to come right +to her room first thing with a pitcher o' cool water; so I went this +mornin', you see, and behold missus' door wide open and no missus thar! +O, Miss Winnie, I 'spect satin has sperritted off soul and body, 'deed I +does." + +"O, no, Aunt Eunice, I think not!" said Winnie smiling; "but you had +better go to your master and inform him what has occurred." + +"'Deed I will, Miss," said the black woman, disappearing. + +Winnie proceeded to dress, in a strange perplexity of fear and +astonishment, while Aunt Eunice thumped long and loud on her master's +door. + +"Who's there?" at last exclaimed a voice within. + +"Me, Aunt Eunice," said the woman frantically, "O, massa, massa, missus +gone, and who's to pour the coffee for breakfast?" + +"What are you raving about?" said the master, opening his door; "why are +you disturbing me at this early hour?" + +"Missus gone; sperritted off soul and body, I 'spect." + +"What are you talking about?" demanded Lester, not in the least +comprehending her words. + +"O, just come up to her room and see for yourself." + +"Why, what's to be seen there?" he asked. + +"Nothin' at all, I tells ye. Missus clean gone. Her door wide open, and +she never slept in her bed last night, massa," said the woman, gasping +for breath, as she ceased speaking. + +The unusual sounds aroused Wayland, who slept near, and flinging open +his door he demanded what was the matter. + +"O, Master Morris!" said aunt Eunice, turning her discourse upon him, +"missus gone--clean gone." + +"Come on, Morris," said Lester. "Eunice says her mistress is spirited +away. Let's dive into the mystery and see what we can bring to light." + +Wayland followed Lester up the hall stairs, wondering what this strange +disturbance might import. They traversed the passage to Miss Mary's +apartment, when, sure enough, as Eunice had affirmed, they found the +door wide open, and, to appearance, no person had occupied the room the +previous night. Lester's quick eye instantly marked, what the servant in +her fright had failed to notice, the absence of two large trunks that +used to stand beside the bed, and the _presence_ of a small folded +billet on the dressing-table. He advanced with a hasty step, broke the +seal, and read. + +"Ha, ha!" laughed he, as he run over the contents. "Eunice, go below and +light the fires." + +The woman hastened away. + +"Romance at thirty-seven! elopement extraordinary, Wayland!" he +continued. "Miss Mary Lester has become in due form Mrs. Col. Edmunds, +and 'fled,' as she expresses it--(now where was the use in _flying_, for +who would have objected to the marriage? But then 'twas romantic, of +course)--to the wilds of Texas; there to enjoy the sweets of domestic +felicity with her adored husband; to which fair land she hopes I'll some +day come to visit her, when I have regained possession of my senses, and +learnt the difference 'twixt canary-birds and wild-cats." + +Wayland listened with amazement depicted on his features. + +"Strange; all wonder, isn't it, Morris?" pursued Lester. "Let's go below +and discuss the matter." + +The gentlemen descended to the parlor, where Aunt Eunice soon presented +herself, and, with rueful countenance, said: + +"Please, massa, who is to pour the coffee this morning? Missus gone, you +know." + +"Well, Eunice, suppose you run up stairs, and ask Miss Winnie if she +will not condescend to perform that office this morning, as we find +ourselves so suddenly bereft of a housekeeper?" said Lester, in a +mock-serious tone. + +Winnie of course assented, and passed into the breakfast-room, where she +found her brother and Lester already seated at the table. + +"Good-morning, Miss Morris," said the latter. "A romance, such as we +read of in old knights' tales, was enacted in our house last night, in +consequence of which a forlorn bachelor has to ask of you the favor to +preside at his desolate board this morning." + +"I shall be pleased to serve you," returned Winnie, assuming the head of +the table, and so prettily did she perform the duties of her new office, +that Lester forgot his muffins and sandwiches, in admiration of his +newly-installed housekeeper _pro tem_. + +Miss Mary's elopement was a three days' wonder, and then the affair was +as if it had never been; save that the servants could not sufficiently +admire Miss Winnie, or sufficiently rejoice over Miss Mary's departure. +"O," said Aunt Eunice, "don't I wish massa would marry you, Miss Winnie, +and then the house would be like heaven--'deed it would!" + + + + + CHAPTER XIII. + + "We've many things to say within the bounds + Of this good chapter, which is 'mong the last; + So be of better cheer; for we are well + Nigh done." + + +We will just step over to Texas this morning, dear reader, for well we +know the mocking-birds are singing sweetly, and the wild geese rise from +the placid bayous, and flap their broad, white wings over the bright +green prairies, on their inland flight, and the gentle breezes stir the +dark, luxuriant foliage of the wide, primeval forests, while all the air +is redolent with the odors of the ocean of flowers that cover the whole +sunny land with bloom and beauty. + +It is something more than a year since we parted with Esq. Camford in +his new emigrant home, and now we have another party of friends arriving +in our young "Italy of America," even the romantic Miss Mary Lester, and +her John Falstaff husband; and Fred. Milder, too, has had time to wear +off the edge of his love disappointment on the ridgy hog-wallows of this +fair south-western land. For we don't believe there's another so +effectual antidote in the world for a fit of the blues or love dumps, as +a long day's ride in a Texan stage-coach, with three pair of wild +mustangs for horses, over these same hog-wallows; to say nothing of the +way they despatch jaundice, dyspepsia, and all the host of bilious +diseases. But don't you quite understand what hog-wallows are, reader? +Well, Heaven help you then, when you go out south or west, and pitch +into them for the first time! Invoke your patron saint to keep your soul +and body together, and prevent your limbs from flying off at tangents. + +We will tell you how we once heard a Kentuckian (and God bless the +Kentucky boys in general, for they are a whole-souled race!) account for +these anomalous things. We were pitching through a group of them, some +dozen of us in a miserable wagon, when one "new comer" asked his +neighbor, "What is the cause of these confounded _humps_ in the roads?" + +"They are hog-wallows," responded the one interrogated, in a pompous +tone, as if proud to display his superior knowledge of the land into +which both the speakers had but recently made their advent. + +"Hog-wallows!" exclaimed the man, more in doubt than ever by his +newly-acquired knowledge, "what makes so many of them then?" + +"Why, you see when the great rains come on," commenced the "wise 'un," +"the country gets all afloat, and when it begins to dry off a little, +the wild hogs come by thousands, and roll and flop about in the mud, and +that makes all these pitch-holes, which they call hog-wallows." + +"Why don't they kill the hogs and eat 'em, and not have 'em rooting up +the roads in this awful way?" asked greeny number one. + +"Lord! they do kill and kill, I'm told," said greeny number two; "but +Texas is such an almighty rich country that all sorts o' critters and +things grow up spontaneously everywheres." + +"Creation! but why don't they build fences alongside their roads then!" + +"O, they never make fences in Texas; first you'd know a hurricane would +come tearing along, and land them all in the Gulf of Mexico, quicker +than you could say 'Old Kentuck.'" + +"Stars and gaiters! what a dreadful dangerous country is this we have +got into!" said number two, with a frightened aspect, as they dropped +the subject and relapsed into silence, while it was evident, from their +anxious visages, that their minds were harassed and disturbed, by +visions of hog-wallows, hurricanes and spontaneous animals. + +We have heard other and more philosophical hypotheses as to the origin +of these uneven roads. Some suppose the country was once an inland sea, +and these ridges were occasioned by the continuous action of the waves; +others suppose the intense heat of the sun on the soft, clayey soil, +caused it to crack and spread asunder, leaving the surface broken and +ridgy. This latter is the more generally received opinion, we believe. + +Here's half a chapter on hog-wallows, the unpoetical things! but as +utilitarians maintain nothing is made but what subserves some purpose, +we premise these humpy roads were made for the benefit of gouty men, +dyspeptic women, and love-sick lads and lasses. Thus disposed of, "we +resume the thread of our narrative," as novel-writers say. Our pen waxes +wild and intractable, whenever we get safely over the stormy gulf, and +stand on the shores of bonny, bright Texas; for we feel at home there, +hog-wallows, musquitoes, Camanches and all. Let none dare gainsay Texas +in our ears, for it is the banner state of all the immaculate +thirty-one. Come on, reader, now we have had our say, straight up to the +thriving plantation of Esq. Camford, and behold the wonders this +wonderful land can produce upon the characters of nervous, +delicately-constituted ladies. That buxom, blooming-matron in the loose +gingham wrapper, and muslin morning-cap, who stands on the gallery of +that new and tastefully-built cottage, all overshaded by the boughs of +the majestic pecan trees, giving off orders to a brace of shiny-eyed +mulatto wenches, who listen with reverential awe and attention, is none +other than the hysterical, shaky-nerved Mrs. Camford, whom we beheld +some two years ago bewailing the fate which had brought her to this +awful place, to be poisoned by snakes, mangled by bears, and murdered by +Indians. Listen to her words: + +"Thisbe, take the lunch I have placed in the market-basket down to the +cotton-field boys, and ask your master to come to the house soon as +convenient; some people from the States are come to visit us:--and you, +Hagar, go to the garden and gather a quantity of vegetables for dinner. +I will be in the kitchen to assist in their preparation." + +The women bowed, and hastened away on their separate errands. Mrs. +Camford now turned to enter the house, when Josephine, her cheeks +blooming with health and happiness, came bounding to her mother's side. +"O, mamma, the young gentleman, Mr. Milder, knows all about cousin +Alice! he has come right from the place in which she resides. He says +she sent a great deal of love to us all, and desired me to write to her. +Perhaps, now we know she remembers us so kindly, you will let me go +north some time, and pay my long-promised visit. Susette and her husband +talk of travelling next season, you know." + +All this was uttered in the most lively and animated tone conceivable, +and Mrs. Camford smiled, and answered cheerfully, as mother and daughter +reëntered the neat, airy parlor, where our heroine of romance, Miss Mary +Lester, was sitting beside her portly, red-visaged husband, Col. +Edmunds, who had, in early life, been a Texan ranger, and acquired so +keen a relish for the wild, exciting scenes of a new country, that he +would not give his hand (his heart we suppose he could not control) to +the fair Mary, unless she would consent to forego the luxuries of +fashionable life, and follow his fortunes through the perils and +vicissitudes of an Indian frontier. She stood out to the last, hoping +the stalwart colonel would yield to her eloquent pleadings, and consent +to make his abode in New Orleans; for she conceived that brother +Augustus, having arrived at the sober age of thirty, would never marry, +and it would be the finest idea in the world for him to relinquish the +splendid estate he had acquired by his own untiring exertions, to the +hands of Col. Edmunds, while she, as the worthy colonel's most estimable +consort, would condescend to assume the direction of the servants and +household affairs, and Augustus could thus live wholly at his ease, +without a worldly care to distract his breast. What an affectionate, +self-sacrificing sister would she be, thus kindly to relieve her brother +at her own expense! But, just as this plan began to ripen for execution, +she was counter-plotted, or fancied herself to be, which led to the same +denouement. Winnie Morris came to pass a vacation with her brother, +Wayland, and the fore-doomed bachelor, Augustus Lester, most audaciously +dared to fall in love with the cackling girl. So Miss Mary declared; and +to remain in her brother's mansion, where she had hitherto exercised +unlimited sway, under such a little minx of a mistress, was too much for +human nature to endure; so, all on a sudden, she yielded in full to the +majestic colonel's wishes, and "cut sticks" for Texas, flying, as many +of us often do, from an imaginary evil, and leaving behind poor little +Winnie, innocent and unsuspecting as a lamb, with the great coffee-urn +in her trembling hand. How long the fair girl remained thus innocent and +unsuspecting, we are yet to know. + +"So you are from New Orleans, Col. Edmunds," remarked Mrs. Camford. "I +do not recollect of ever having met you there; but to see any person +from our former home, though personally strangers, affords us pleasure +and gratification." + +"I have only resided in New Orleans about six months, madam," returned +Col. Edmunds; "the most of my life has been spent in camp and field." + +"My husband is a soldier," said Mrs. Edmunds, "and we are now on our way +to the Indian frontier." + +"Indeed! and how do you think you will relish frontier life?" asked Mrs. +Camford. + +"O, I shall be contented anywhere with my husband!" + +"Just married, madam, and desperately in love yet," said the colonel. +"Always lived in the city, and thought it the greatest piece of audacity +in the world when I informed her I was going to stop at the residence of +a private gentleman with whom I was not in the least acquainted, to bait +my mules and get dinner. Not a bit acquainted with the Texan elephant, +you see, madam." + +"Heaven save me, Samuel! do people in this country associate with +elephants?" exclaimed the bride, with the prettiest display of horrified +surprise. + +"To be sure; I had one for a bed-fellow six or eight months when I first +came out here," returned the husband, with perfect serenity. + +"O, my soul, I hope I shall never see one!" said the young wife, +nestling closer to her husband's side. + +The colonel laughed heartily, and all joined in his merriment. + +"You should not alarm new-comers by such bug-bear tales," remarked Mrs. +Camford, at length. "This young gentleman, Mr. Milder, is just from the +north." + +"Indeed! well, he looks as if he might soon learn how to grapple with +elephants and tigers both," said the colonel, glancing on the young +man's countenance. + +"Tigers!" exclaimed Mrs. Edmunds, taking fresh alarm; "do those +ferocious creatures grow here too?" + +"Yes, everything grows here, Mary, about five times as large as anywhere +else," answered the bluff colonel. "But what say, young man, to going up +on the frontier with me, and seeing a bit of soldier life? You'd get to +see the whole elephant there, teeth, trunk and all." + +"Why will you keep talking about that dreadful monster?" said the young +wife, who had brought a few nerves along with her. "You'll terrify me to +death, Samuel." + +"You must get used to the critters, Mary, and the quicker the better, is +all I have to say," returned the husband, patting her cheek. + +Esquire Camford now entered, dinner was served, and the conversation +took a higher tone. Esquire C. spoke of the country, its fertility, +rapid improvement, and exhaustless resources. Fred. Milder began to feel +an interest in a land with prospects so brilliant, and accepted with +pleasure Col. Edmunds' invitation to travel on westward in company with +him. The travellers were persuaded to pass the night; and during the +visit Mrs. Camford came to know that Mrs. Edmunds was a sister of the +Mr. Lester who had purchased her former sumptuous residence from the +hands of the creditors, at the time of their failure in New Orleans. +Still the knowledge did not waken regretful feelings, or excite a pang +of envy in her breast; for she had learned to regard a cottage with +content as better than wealth and pomp with pride and misery to distract +the spirit. + +The morrow dawned beautifully. Round and red the sun arose beyond the +far, green prairie, when the mules and carriages were brought to the +door, and the little party of travellers recommenced their journey. +Fred. Milder cast a lingering glance after the pretty Josephine, as she +wished him a delightful tour up the country, and bade him not forget to +call and give her an account of all his adventures on his return. He +promised faithfully not to forget, and, with kind adieus, the party +moved on their way. + +Josephine sat down after her usual morning tasks were completed, and +indited a long epistle to her cousin Alice; giving a general description +of her Texan home; not failing to mention her mother's happy recovery +from nerves, and Susette's marriage with a promising young planter; also +the pleasant visit they had enjoyed from Mr. Milder; and ended by saying +she hoped another season, when papa was a little richer, to make her +long-contemplated visit to the north. + + + + + CHAPTER XIV. + + "Youth, love and beauty, all were hers, + Why should she not be happy?" + + +Where would you like to go now, reader? We are desirous to take you by +the path that will lead through this story by the shortest cut, and, as +we dare not doubt but that will be the course of all others most +grateful to your tastes and feelings, we'll clear Texas at a bound, for +there'll blow a whistling "Norther" there soon, we apprehend, and that +would tangle our hair worse than it is tangled now, and we have not had +time to comb it since this story commenced. So, imagine "Effie," dear +reader, with her brown locks wisped up in the most unbecoming manner +possible, a calico morning-gown wrapped loosely about her, and not over +clean, her fingers grimmed with pencil-dust, and her nose too, +perhaps--for she has a fashion of rubbing that useful organ, for ideas, +or something else, we know not what. + +Just imagine this, reader, and if you don't throw down the story in +actual disgust, you'll be more anxious to get through it than we are +even. + +Now away with episode, and here are we in the fair "Crescent City" +again, at the palace-like residence of Augustus Lester, Esq. The lord of +the mansion is at home, reclining on a silken sofa, which is drawn +before one of the deep, bloom-shaded windows of the elegant +drawing-room. He is in genial, after-dinner mood, and that fairy-looking +being, sitting by his side on a low ottoman, is our former friend, +Winnie Morris. But she bears another name now, for she has been three +months a wife--Augustus Lester's girl-bride! + +Were that affectionate sister's misgivings of her bachelor brother's +intentions toward that wild-cat girl altogether chimerical, then? +Present appearances would indicate them not to have been altogether +groundless; but really, when the fair Mary fled so precipitately, the +idea of making Winnie Morris his bride had never entered her brother's +cranium. He had regarded her as a pretty child, and delighted in her +sunshiny, buoyant spirit, and felt he would like to keep her near to +cheer and enliven his mansion; but from the moment he saw her presiding +with so much quiet dignity and grace at his table, on that eventful +morning, he resolved to win her heart if possible. The task was by no +means difficult, for an object to which we look up with gratitude and +reverence, 'tis next to impossible not to love. She forgot, in her +devotion to the lofty, high-souled man, her childish fancy for the +frivolous-minded boy, and when Wayland, on her bridal morning, asked +mischievously, "Where was Jack Camford vanished?" she replied, "In a +gold mine beyond the seas, I suppose, brother; but why mention his name +to make discord on this happy hour?" + +"It is strange Wayland does not return," remarked Augustus, at length, +rousing from a light doze, and drawing his young wife close to his side. + +"I thought you were fast asleep, Auguste," said she; "and here I have +been fanning you so attentively, to keep the mosquitoes away. Well, it +is time for Wayland to come, isn't it? He has been absent more than two +months. You know how he chided me for breaking the promise I made to be +mistress of that pretty cottage he proposed to build up in Tennessee. +Perhaps he is erecting it, and intends to dwell there in proud, +regretful solitude." + +"Or, perhaps he is in search of some fair lady to be its mistress, who +may prove less recreant to her promise," suggested Lester. + +"May be so," returned Winnie, laughing. + +"I look for a letter from him every day," remarked the husband; "there +was a mail-boat in when I came up to dinner. I'll call at the +post-office this evening; very possibly one has arrived." + +"I hope so," answered Winnie. + +The bell now rang, and company was announced. Leaving the young couple +to entertain their guests, we have stolen away in search of the absent +Wayland, and bring him once more on the tapis, to give some account of +his protracted wanderings, and learn what are his hopes and prospects +for the future. By what devious track we shall be pleased to pursue the +rover, our next chapter will reveal. + + + + + CHAPTER XV. + + "O, Charity, what art thou? Mystic thing!" + + +Being rather benevolently inclined ourselves, we feel a desire to look +in once more upon the "Ladies Literary Benevolent Combination for +Foreign Aid," which is to-day congregated at the residence of Mrs. +Rachel Stebbins, president of this humane and Christian body. She is +sitting in majestic presence on her throne of office, with her +gold-bowed spectacles astride her stately nose, and her devoted subjects +clustering around her, their tongues and fingers nimble as ever in the +good cause of universal philanthropy. Prominent in the ranks is Mrs. +Sykes, while ever following her, like a shadow, is her bosom friend, +Miss Jerusha Sharpwell. Mrs. Fleetfoot also appears in the rear; a sort +of shadow of a shade, or refrain to the song. Little Miss Gaddie +composes and sings alone now; her sister, Miss Pamela, having +accompanied her missionary husband to the shores of benighted Bengal, to +aid in his labors for the conversion of the heathen world. + +"Well," said Miss Jerusha, as she sank down in a soft-cushioned chair +beside Mrs. Sykes, with a pair of checked muslin night-caps in her hand; +"what's the good word with you, sister, these suffocating days?" + +"La! nothing, sister Jerusha, as I know of. My girl, Hannah, has gone +off and left me, so I have to keep close at home and slave myself with +hard work all the time, and have no opportunity to learn what's going on +about town," answered Mrs. Sykes, in a doleful voice. + +"Why, where has your girl, Hannah, gone?" asked Miss Jerusha, +sympathetically; "I never heard a word about her leaving your service." + +"She didn't leave me of her own free will;--catch Hannah to go away from +this roof, unless she was bejuggled by other folks. But she'll repent +her rashness when 'tis too late, I'm afeard," said Mrs. Sykes. + +"Why, didn't you know Hannah Smith had gone to work for the widow +Orville?" inquired Mrs. Fleetfoot, looking up from the blue yarn sock +she was knitting, which was destined, no doubt, to convert some +half-naked Burman boy from the errors of paganism. "La, I heard of it a +fortnight ago!" + +"You did,--did you, Mrs. Fleetfoot?" exclaimed Mrs. Sykes, in rather a +hasty tone; for a mild-hearted Christian; "well, she hasn't been gone +from me a week yet." + +"Do tell! Well, I heard she thought of going, then, or something like +it, I can't exactly remember what," drawled Mrs. Feetfoot, not a whit +disconcerted by the contradiction her words had received. + +"So Mrs. Orville coaxed Hannah away from you?" said Miss Jerusha. + +"Yes, just as the summer's work was coming on, too; but she'll have to +suffer for it," said Mrs. Sykes, with a fearfully resigned expression of +countenance. + +"Of course she will," returned Miss Sharpwell; "but what could Mrs. +Orville want with a hired girl,--nobody but herself and Alice in the +family? It seems a selfish, malicious desire to inconvenience you, her +coaxing Hannah off." + +"La!" put in Mrs. Fleetwood, "didn't you know Mrs. Orville had got a +whole houseful of company from the south? I knew it a month ago." + +"She hasn't got anybody in the world but two cousins of Alice's, and a +husband of one of them, and they haven't been there a week, till +to-morrow evening," said Mrs. Sykes. + +"O, is that all? Well, I heard something about it, I couldn't exactly +recollect what it was," again drawled Mrs. Fleetfoot, closing the toe of +her yarn sock, and holding it up to admire the proportions; no doubt +breathing a silent prayer that it might be useful in saving some "soul +from death." + +"Well, Mrs. Fleetfoot," observed Mrs. Sykes, "did you know that Fred. +Milder had come home from Texas to marry Alice Orville?" + +"La, yes!" responded that Christian lady; "that's an old story, +everybody knows." + +"Why, I never heard of it before," said Miss Jerusha, pinning a little +blue bow on the top of the muslin cap, to make it look _tasty_, as she +observed. + +"Neither did I," answered Mrs. Sykes, casting, as we thought, but it +could not be, however, a glance of malicious triumph on Mrs. Fleetfoot; +"but he travelled home in company with Mrs. Orville's visitors, and I +often see him walking on the lake-shore with the young, unmarried lady, +Miss Josephine, I believe, is her name; and I just thought in my own +mind that would be a match." + +"Very likely," said Miss Jerusha. + +"Well, I remember now, 'twas that strange lady I heard he was engaged +to, and not Miss Alice," remarked Fleetfoot, with perfect equanimity; +"and Alice, they say, has got a beau off south, and that's what makes +her so mopish at times." + +"Perhaps it is as sister Fleetfoot says," observed Jerusha; "for Alice +is certainly changed from what she used to be. She never attends our +circle now, and seldom goes to church. I wonder how she does pass her +time?" + +"'Tis more than I can tell," answered Mrs. Sykes; "there was always +something mysterious about those Orvilles, to me. But I shall be obliged +to go home, sister Jerusha, to attend to my work, as I've no servant," +continued the wronged lady, rising, and depositing her work in the +treasurer's box. + +"I'm sorry you must go, sister Sykes," said Jerusha; "but be of good +cheer, and I'll drop in and see you in the course of the week." + +"Pray, do, sister Sharpwell; I need all the aid and sympathy of +Christian hearts to sustain my soul," said Mrs. Sykes, with a ruefully +pious countenance, as she took her departure. + +The meeting progressed. Fast flew the nimble fingers of the devoted +laborers in the good cause; and could the poor heathen have known what +mighty exertions this band of benevolent, self-denying females, who +basked in the noontide glory of the sun of righteousness, were making +for their liberation from the thrall of pagan darkness and superstition, +we doubt not that they would have prostrated themselves by millions +before the shrine of their great idol, Juggernaut, and devoutly invoked +him to pardon and forgive the poor, deluded victims of a false religion, +and bring them all under his sublime sway and holy dominion. + +At length, Miss Gaddie was called on to sing the parting hymn. The lady +president delivered herself of a most eloquent and oratorical harangue, +during which the benevolent rose to a tremendous pitch, which nothing +could calm off but the call to supper. + +This well-furnished meal dispensed, the "Ladies' Literary Benevolent +Combination for Foreign Aid" adjourned to the next Wednesday, at the +house of Mrs. Dorothy Sykes, Highflyer Street; which Christian lady +was aghast with terror and dismay, when she learned this batch of +benevolence was assigned over to her for its next meeting. + +"O, mercy!" she feelingly exclaimed; "and I've no girl to assist me, and +my house will be turned topsy-turvy, new parlor carpet ruined,--and, +besides, they'll eat us out of house and home, and Mr. Sykes is _so_ +close-fisted!" + +"But I hope 'twill be a rainy day," she added, by way of consolation. + +Truly, benevolence does cost a great deal! + + + + + CHAPTER XVI. + + "My task is done; my song hath ceased; my theme + Has died into an echo. It is fit + The spell should break of this protracted dream. + The torch shall be extinguished which hath lit + My midnight lamp,--and what is writ, is writ; + Would it were worthier, but I am not now + That which I have been, and my visions flit + Less palpably before me--and the glow + Which in my spirit dwelt, is fluttering, faint and low." + + +The cousins, Alice Orville and Josephine Camford, sat together in a +vine-clad arbor on the shore of Lake Erie. + +"I cannot express the joy I feel at beholding you again, dear Pheny; +learning of your welfare, and finding you so happy in the contemplation +of the future," said Alice. + +"None can tell what the future may bring," answered Josephine. "All is +vague and uncertain. I never believe anything is to be mine till I +really possess it." + +"And so you won't believe Fred. Milder is yours till the nuptial knot is +tied?" said Alice, smiling. + +"No, not fully,--not without a shadow of doubt," returned Josephine, +laughing in turn. + +"But, Alice, when are you going to get married?" + +"Never!" was the quick response. + +"Nonsense! Where's that pale, intellectual young man, who used to call +so frequently on you when you first arrived in New Orleans?" + +"I have never seen or heard from him since I returned home," answered +Alice, averting her face. + +"That's nothing to the purpose, cous. I see you have not forgotten him." + +"O, no!" + +"And never will?" + +"I can't say that." + +"I can, though. Come, let's return to the house. I suspect Fred. is +waiting for me to take my promised stroll on the lake shore. How do you +like sister Susette's husband, Alice?" + +"I think him a very accomplished gentleman," replied Alice, as they +walked toward the house. + +"So I think," said Josephine. "His superior could hardly be found in any +of our large cities. Did you know poor Celestina had heard from her +faithless husband? He pleads for forgiveness and promises to return if +she will receive him. It appears he and brother Jack have amassed a +large fortune in Australia." + +"Indeed! I am rejoiced to hear so good tidings of the adventurers. Is +Celestina still in the convent to which she retired?" + +"She is; but proposes to leave it and accompany us to Texas on our +return to that country. Whether she will receive her husband I cannot +say, but will hazard an opinion that, should she one day behold him at +her feet imploring pardon, love would overpower all remembrance of +former wrongs. But there's Fred.," added the joyous-hearted girl. "I +must away to meet him." + +"Where?" asked Alice, gazing on all sides. + +"There, walking down that avenue of poplars!" returned Josephine. "I saw +him some moments since,"--love is so quick-sighted when its object is at +hand, and so abstracted when it is at a distance,--and Josephine hurried +away to meet her lover, leaving Alice to stroll onward by herself. +Presently, Hannah, the servant-girl that Mrs. Sykes, the benevolent +lady, averred had been "bejuggled" from her by Mrs. Orville, came +through the garden at full speed, exclaiming, "Miss Alice, there be a +gentleman in the parlor waitin' to see ye!" + +On hearing this message, Alice accelerated her steps to reach the house, +and retired to her room a few moments to adjust her dress before +entering the presence of her visitor. + +Reader! that truant-knight, for whom we went in search so long ago, is +found at last. + + * * * + +Far down "_la belle riviere_" floated the fairy white steamboat on its +winding-way to Louisville, while the joy-groups danced and sung by the +clear moonlight over the airy decks. + +And now once more adown the proud-rolling Mississippi, we see that +"floating-palace," the Eclipse, cutting her way through the foamy +waters. How, all day long, the verdure-clad shores smile up to the +clear, cerulean heaven that arches above! And how the moonbeams pour +their silvery light down on the sleeping earth! and all the while, by +night and day, the boat sweeps proudly onward. + +Among the hundreds of passengers that roam the decks and guards, we +recognize two familiar faces; and our eyes love to linger on them, for +they are redolent with happiness. One of them is that of the dreamy, +abstracted girl we noticed years ago, leaning over the balustrades of +this same queenly boat as she approached New Orleans. But she was alone +then. Now; a manly form is bending over her, and whispering words we +cannot hear; nor do we need to hear them to know they carry joy to the +listening ear, for her dark eye glows with happiness, as she looks +confidingly in the face of the speaker, and utters something which +brings the same joy-light over his fine, intellectual features. + +Now you do not wish us to tell you, reader, that Wayland Morris and +Alice Orville are man and wife; and that they, in company with Fred. +Milder and wife, and Susette and husband, are bound for New Orleans, to +surprise Winnie Lester in her regal home. Your intuition has revealed +all this to you e'er now, and you have pictured in your minds how blank +with amazement young Mrs. Lester's pretty face will be when she beholds +this "family-group" in her elegant drawing-room, all eager to welcome +and be welcomed, and overflowing with exuberant life and gladness, as +people ordinarily are when they get safely off one of those beautiful, +but treacherous western steam-palaces. + +All this your vivid imaginations will easily portray in far more glowing +and picturesque colors than our poor pencil can paint. So we leave you +to conjure up all the bright visions you choose with which to deck the +futures of our young debutants in the great drama of wedded life. And +some of you young writers, who thirst for fame's thorny laurels, may +touch your inspired pens to paper, and give us a sequel to this hasty, +ill-finished tale, a true production of our "fast" age. + +In conclusion, let us say, that years after these events transpired, as +the "Eclipse" passed up and down the Mississippi, on her trips to and +from New Orleans, the jocular clerk was wont to call the attention of +his passengers to a beautiful English cottage, surrounded by vines and +shrubbery, which stood on the Tennessee shore, and exclaim, "The +dwellers in that cottage learned their first lesson of love on the +guards of the Eclipse." + + + + + COME TO ME WHEN I'M DYING. + + A SONG. + + + Come to me when I'm dying; + Gaze on my wasted form, + Tired with so long defying + Life's ever-rushing storm. + Come, come when I am dying, + And stand beside my bed, + Ere yet my soul is flying, + And I am cold and dead. + + Bend low and lower o'er me, + For I've a word to say + Though death is just before me, + Ere I can go away. + Now that my soul is hovering + Upon the verge of day, + For thee I'll lift the covering + That veils its quivering ray. + + O, ne'er had I thus spoken + In health's bright, rosy glow! + But death my pride hath broken, + And brought my spirit low. + Though now this last revealing + Quickens life's curdling springs, + And a half-timid feeling + Faint flushes o'er me flings. + + Bend lower yet above me, + For I would have thee know + How passing well I love thee, + And joy to tell thee so. + This love, so purely welling + Up in this heart of mine, + O, hath it e'er found dwelling + Within thy spirit's shrine? + + I've prayed my God, in meekness, + To give me some control + Over this earthly weakness + That so enthralled my soul; + And now my soul rejoices + While sweetly-thrilling strains, + From low, harmonious voices, + Soothe all my dying pains. + + They sing of the Eternal, + Whose throne is far above, + Where zephyrs softly vernal + Float over bowers of love; + Of hopes and joys, earth-blighted, + Blooming 'neath cloudless skies, + Of hearts and souls united + In love that never dies. + + 'Tis there, 'tis there I'll meet thee + When life's brief day is o'er; + O, with what joy to greet thee + On that eternal shore! + Farewell! for death is chilling + My pulses swift and fast; + And yet in God I'm willing + This hour should be my last. + + Sometimes, when day declineth, + And all the gorgeous west + In gold and purple shineth, + Go to my place of rest; + And if thy voice in weeping, + Is borne upon the air, + Think not of me as sleeping; + All cold and silent there:-- + + But turn, with glances tender, + Toward a shining star, + Whose rays with chastened splendor + Fall on thee from afar. + And know the blissful dwelling + Where I am waiting thee, + When Jordan fiercely swelling + Shall set thy spirit free. + + + + + + ELLEN. + + + Sweet star, of seraph brightness, + That for a transient day + Shed o'er our souls such lightness, + And then withdrew the ray! + O, with immortal lustre + Thou 'rt sparkling brightly now + Amid the gems that cluster + Around Jehovah's brow! + + Yet many hearts are keeping + Lone vigils o'er thy grave, + Where all the hopes are sleeping + Which thy young promise gave. + The sleep which knows no waking + Hath closed thy sweet blue eyes, + And while our hearts are breaking + We glance toward the skies. + + Ah! there a hope is given + That bids us dry the tear; + That bright star in the heaven, + With beams so wondrous clear;-- + 'Tis Ellen's "distant Aidenn," + Far in the realms above, + And those clear rays are laden + With her pure spirit's love. + + + + + I'M TIRED OF LIFE. + + + I'm tired, I'm tired of life, brother! + Of all that meets my eye; + And my weary spirit fain would pass + To worlds beyond the sky. + For there is naught on earth, brother, + For which I'd wish to live; + Not all the glittering gauds of wealth + One hour of peace can give. + + I'm weary,--sick at heart, brother, + Of heartless pomp and show! + And ever comes some cloud to dim + The little joy I know. + This world is not the world, brother, + It seemed in days agone, + When I viewed it through the rainbow mists + Of childhood's rosy dawn. + + I would not pain your heart, brother-- + I know you love me well; + And that love is laid upon my soul, + E'en as a holy spell. + But I'm weary of this world, brother, + This world of sin and care; + And my spirit fluttereth to be free, + To mount the upper air! + + I know not of the world, brother, + To which I wish to go; + And perhaps my soul may there awake + To know a deeper woe! + They say the pure of earth, brother, + Find there undying bliss; + While all the wicked ones are cast + Into a dark abyss! + + I look upon the stars, brother, + That gem the vault of blue; + And when they tell me "God is love," + I feel it must be true; + For I see on all around, brother, + The impress of a hand + That blendeth and uniteth all + In one harmonious band. + + I am that which I am, brother, + As the Creator made; + To _Him_, all-holy and all-pure, + No fault can e'er be laid. + He knows my weakness well, brother, + And I can trust his love + To bear me safe through Jordan's stream + To brighter worlds above. + + + + + LINES TO A FRIEND, + + ON REMOVING FROM HER NATIVE VILLAGE. + + + The golden rays of sunset fall on a snow-clad hill, + As standing by my window I gaze there long and still. + I see a roof and a chimney, and some tall elms standing near, + While the winds that sway their branches bring voices to my ear. + + They tell of a darkened hearth-stone, that once shone bright and gay, + And of old familiar faces that have sadly passed away; + How a stranger on the threshold with careless aspect stands, + And gazes on the acres that have passed into his hands. + + I shudder, as these voices, so fraught with mournful woe, + Steal on my spirit's hearing, in cadence sad and low, + And think I will not hear them--but, ah! who can control + The gloomy thoughts that enter and brood upon the soul? + + So, turning from my window, while darkness deepens round, + And the wailing winds sweep onward with yet more piteous sound, + I feel within my bosom far wilder whirlwinds start, + And sweep the cloudy heaven that bends above my heart. + + I have no power to quell them; so let them rage and roar, + The sooner will their raging and fury all be o'er; + I've seen Atlantic's billows 'neath tempests fiercely swell, + But O, the calm succeeding, I have no words to tell! + + I think of you, and wonder if you are happy now; + Floats there no shade of sorrow at times across your brow? + When daily tasks are ended, and thought is free to roam, + Doth it not bear you swiftly back to that dear old home? + + And then, with wizard fingers, doth Memory open fast + A thrilling panorama of all the changeful past! + Where blending light and shadow skip airy o'er the scene, + Painting in vivid contrast what is and what has been. + + And say, does not your mother remember yet with tears + The spot where calm and peaceful have lapsed so many years? + O, would some kindly spirit might give us all to know + How much a tender parent will for a child forego! + + We prized your worth while with us; but now you're gone from sight, + We feel "how blessings brighten while they are taking flight." + O, don't forget the homestead upon the pleasant hill; + Nor yet the love-lit home you have in all our memories still! + + Come, often come to visit the haunts your childhood knew! + We pledge you earnest welcome, unbought, unfeigned and true. + And when before your vision new hopes and pleasure rise, + Turn sometimes with a sunny thought toward your native skies! + + + + + HO FOR CALIFORNIA! + + + Rouse ye, Yankees, from your dreaming! + See that vessel, strong and bold, + On her banner proudly streaming, + California for gold! + See a crowd around her gather, + Eager all to push from land! + They will have all sorts o' weather + Ere they reach the golden strand. + Rouse to action, + Fag and faction; + Ho, for mines of wealth untold! + Rally! Rally! + All for Cali- + Fornia in search of gold! + Away, amid the rush and racket, + Ho for the California packet! + + Wake ye! O'er the surging ocean, + Loud above each coral cave, + Comes a sound of wild commotion + From the lands beyond the wave. + Riches, riches, greater--rarer, + Than Golconda's far-famed mines; + Ho for California's shores! + Where the gold so brightly shines. + O'er the ocean + All's commotion; + Ho for mines of wealth untold! + Countless treasure + Waits on pleasure; + Ho for California's gold! + Let us go the rush and racket, + On the Californian packet. + + Hear the echo wildly ringing + Through our country far and wide! + Thousands leaving home and springing + Into the resistless tide. + Now our nation's roused from sleeping, + All alert and wide awake. + O, there's no such thing as keeping + Folks asleep when gold's the stake! + Old Oregon + We'll look not on; + Ho, for mines of wealth untold! + We'll take our way, + Without delay, + In search of gold--of glittering gold! + Here we go, amid the racket, + On the Californian packet! + + Yankees! all who have the fever, + Go the rush without delay! + Take a spade and don your beaver; + Tell your friends you must away! + You will get a sight o' money; + Reap perhaps a hundred-fold! + O, it would be precious funny + To sit in a hall of gold! + Let's be going, + Gales are blowing, + Ho, all hands for digging gold! + Romance throwing + Colors glowing + Round these mines of wealth untold! + Ho, we go amid the racket, + On the Californian packet! + + + + + N. P. ROGERS. + + + Rogers, will not future story + Tell thy glorious fame? + And in hues of living glory + Robe thy spotless name? + + There was more than mortal seeming + In thy wondrous eye,-- + Like a silv'ry star-ray gleaming + Through a liquid _sky_. + + Of that angel spirit telling, + Noble, clear and bright, + In thy "inner temple" dwelling, + Veiled from mortal sight! + + Of that spirit meek and lowly, + Yet so bold and free, + In its all-absorbing, holy, + Love of Liberty. + + Thou didst leave us, gentle brother, + In thy manhood's pride; + And we vainly seek another + Heart so true and tried! + + Thou art dwelling with the angels + In the spirit land! + Chanting low and sweet evangels, + 'Mid a seraph band. + + But when Freedom's champions rally + 'Gainst the despot's sway, + Then they mourn the friend and ally + That has passed away. + + And when Liberty's bright banner + Waves o'er land and sea, + And is heard the loud hosanna + Of the ransomed free,-- + + On its silken folds, in letters + Traced with diamond bright, + Shall thy name, the foe of fetters, + Blaze in hues of light! + + + + + LINES. + + + I hied me to the ocean-side; + Its waves rolled bright and high; + Upon its waters, spreading wide, + I gazed with beaming eye. + At last, at last, I said, is found + A charm to banish pain,-- + Here, where the sprightly billows bound + Athwart the heaving main. + + The pebbly beach I wandered o'er + At morn and evening's hour, + Or listening to the breakers' roar, + Or wondering at their power. + Beneath their din I madly sought, + With ev'ry nerve bestirred, + To drown for aye the demon, thought,-- + But, ah! he _would be heard_. + + He found a voice my ear to reach, + To pierce my aching breast, + In every wave that swept the beach + With proud, defiant crest. + And when the moon, with silver light, + Smiled o'er the waters blue, + It seemed to say "There's nothing bright + O'er all this earth for you." + + Scarce half a moon have I been here, + Beside the sounding sea, + In hope its echoings in my ear + Might drown out memory; + Or might instil some vital life + Into this feeble frame, + Long spent and wasted by the strife + Wide-wrought against my name. + + In vain, in vain!--nor sea, nor shore, + Nor any mortal thing, + Can to my cheek health's bloom restore, + Or clear my life's well-spring. + And yet there is a sea whose waves + Will roll above us all,-- + Within its vasty depths are graves + Beyond all mortal call. + + With what an awful note of dirge + This shoreless ocean rolls-- + Bearing on its tremendous surge + The wealth of human souls! + ----The Ocean of Eternity,-- + O, let its billows sweep + O'er one that longeth to be free, + And sleep the dreamless sleep! + + + + + HENRY CLAY. + + + Wail, winds of summer, as ye sweep + The arching skies; + O, let your echoes swell with deep, + Woe-piercing cries! + + Old ocean, with a heavy surge, + Cold, black and drear, + Roll thou the solemn note of dirge + On Europe's ear! + + Sweet stars, that calmly, purely bright, + Look down below, + O, pity with your eyes of light + A Nation's woe! + + Thou source of day, that rollest on + Though tempests frown, + Thou mind'st us of another sun + That has gone down! + + Gone down,--no more may mortal eye + Its face behold! + Gone down,--yet leaving on the sky + A tinge of gold! + + Ah, yes! Columbia, pause to hear + The note of dread; + 'Twill smite like iron on the ear;-- + Our Clay is dead! + + Our Clay; the patriot, statesman, sage, + The Nation's pride, + With giant minds of every age + Identified! + + That form of manliness and strength + In Senate hall, + Is lying at a fearful length + Beneath the pall! + + That voice of eloquence no more + Suspends the breath; + Its matchless power to charm is o'er-- + 'Tis hushed in death! + + Thrice noble spirit! can we bow, + And kiss the rod? + With resignation yield thee now + Back to thy God? + + And where, where shall we turn to find + Now thou 'rt at rest, + A soul so lofty, just and kind, + As warmed thy breast? + + We bear thee, with a flood of tears, + Unto thy tomb; + There thou must sleep till rolling years + Have met their doom! + + But thy bright fame and memory + Shall send a chime + From circling ages down to the + Remotest time! + + O, may thy mantle fall on some + Of this our day, + And shed upon the years to come + A happy ray! + + + + + THE SOUL'S DESTINY. + + + In the liquid vault of ether hung the starry gems of light, + Blazing with unwonted splendor on the ebon brow of night; + Far across the arching concave like a train of silver lay, + Nebulous, and white, and dreamy, heaven's star-wrought Milky Way. + + I was gazing, gazing upward, all my senses captive fraught, + From the earnest contemplation of celestial glories caught, + When the thought arose within me, as the ages onward roll + What may be th' eternal portion of the vast, th' immortal soul? + + When the crimson tide of Nature ceases from its ruddy flow, + And these decaying bodies mouldering are so cold and low, + And the loathsome grave-worm feeding on the still and pulseless + heart, + Where may be the immortal spirit, what may be its deathless part? + + Deep and far within the ether stretched my eyes their anxious gaze, + While the swelling thoughts within me grew a wild and wildered maze, + Then came floating on the distance, softly to my listening ears, + Low, thrilling harmonies of worlds whirling in their bright spheres. + + From the sparkling orb of Venus, sweetest star that gems the blue, + Soon a form of seraph beauty burst upon my raptured view; + Wavy robes were floating round her, and her richly-clustering hair + Lay like golden-wreathed moonbeams round her forehead young and fair. + + Then a company of seraphs gathered round this form so bright, + And unfurled their snowy pinions in those realms of crystal light, + Sweeping swiftly onward, onward with their music-breathing wings, + Till they passed the distant orbit where the mighty Neptune swings. + + Then from stormy, wild Orion, to the dragon's fiery roll, + And the sturdy Ursa Major tramping round the Boreal pole, + On to stately Argo Navis rearing diamond spars on high, + Starry bands of seraph wanderers clove the azure of the sky. + + Lofty awe and adoration all my throbbing bosom filled, + Every pulse and nerve in nature with ecstatic wonder thrilled. + O, were these bright, shining millions disembodied human souls, + That casting off earth's fettering bonds had gained immortal goals! + + On each face there beamed a brightness mortal words can ne'er + rehearse, + Seemed it the concentred glory of the boundless universe. + O, 'twas light, 'twas love, 'twas wisdom, science, knowledge, all + combined, + 'Twas the ultimate perfection of the God-like human mind! + + One by one the constellations sank below the horizon's rim, + And with grief I found my starry vision growing earthly dim; + While all the thrilling harmonies, that filled the air around, + Died off in far, sweet echoings, within the dark profound. + + Bowing then with lowly seeming on the damp and dewy sod, + All my soul in adoration floated up to Nature's God, + While the struggling thoughts within me found voice in earnest + prayer; + "Almighty Father, let my soul one day those glories share!" + + + + + LINES TO A MARRIED FRIEND. + + + There are flowers that never wither, + There are skies that never fade, + There are trees that cast forever + Cooling bowers of leafy shade. + There are silver wavelets flowing, + With a lulling sound of rest, + Where the west wind softly blowing + Fans the far lands of the blest. + + Thitherward our steps are tending, + Oft through dim, oppressive fears, + More of grief than pleasure blending + In the darkening woof of years. + Often would our footsteps weary + Sink upon the winding way, + But that, when all looks most dreary, + O'er us beams a cheering ray. + + Thus the Father who hath made us + Tenants of this world of care, + Knoweth how to kindly aid us, + With the burdens we must bear. + Knoweth how to cause the spirit + Hopefully to raise its eyes + Toward the home it doth inherit + Far beyond the azure skies. + + There's a voice that whispers lowly, + Down within this heart of mine, + Where emotions the most holy + Ever make their sacred shrine; + And it tells a thrilling story + Of the Great Redeemer's love, + And the all-bewildering glory + Of the better land above. + + O, this life, with all its sorrows, + Hasteth onward to a close! + In a few more brief to-morrows + Will have ended all our woes. + Then o'er death the part immortal + Shall sublimely rise and soar + O'er the star-resplendent portal, + There to dwell for evermore. + + May we meet, no more to sever, + Where the weary are at rest, + Far beyond dark Jordan's river, + In the Canaan of the blest. + Guard the treasures God hath given + To thy tenderest nurturing care, + And upon the fields of heaven + Thou shalt see them blooming fair. + + + + + NEW ENGLAND SABBATH BELLS. + + + Methinks I hear those tuneful chimes, + Borne on the breath of morn, + Proclaiming to the silent world + Another Sabbath born. + With solemn sound they echo through + The stilly summer air, + Winning the heart of wayward man + Unto the house of prayer! + + New England's sweet church-going bells, + Their memory's very dear; + And oft in dreams we seem to hear + Them ringing loud and clear. + Again we see the village-spire + Pointing toward the skies; + And hear our reverend pastor tell + Of life that never dies! + + We see him moving down the aisle, + In light subdued and dim; + The while the organ's swelling notes + Chant forth the grateful hymn. + The forms of those our childhood knew, + By meadow, grove and hill, + Are gathering round with kindly looks, + As if they loved us still! + + In careless hours of gladsome youth, + 'Twas our thrice-blessed lot, + To dwell upon New England's shores, + Where God is not forgot. + Where temples to his name are raised, + And where, on bended knee, + The Christian sends to heavenly courts + The worship of the free! + + New England's Sabbath chimes!--we love + Upon those words to dwell; + They fall upon our spirits with + A sweetly-soothing spell, + Bringing to mind those brighter days + When hope beamed on our way, + And life seemed to our souls but one + Pure and unclouded day! + + New England's Sabbath bells!--when last + We heard their merry chime, + The air was rife with pleasant sounds; + For 'twas the glad spring-time! + The robin to those tuneful peals + Poured forth a thrilling strain; + O, 'tis our dearest hope to hear + Those Sabbath bells again! + + For now we're many a weary mile + From that New England home; + In lands where laughing summer lies, + Our wandering footsteps roam. + But yet those sweetly-chiming bells + Those heavenward-pointing spires, + Awaken e'er the brightest glow + From memory's vestal-fires. + + + + + MY HEART. + + + List I to the hurried beatings + Of my heart; + How its quickened, loud repeatings + Make me start! + + Often do I hear it throbbing + Fast and wild; + As I've heard it, after sobbing, + When a child. + + Why so wild, so swift and heated, + Little heart? + Is there something in thee seated, + Baffling art? + + Pain with all thy throbs is blended-- + Pain so dread! + Oftentimes life seems suspended + By a thread! + + Then thou'lt grow so still--like ocean + In its rest;-- + Till I scarce can feel a motion + In my breast. + + Think'st thy house is dark and dreary, + Veiled in night? + Art thou pining, sad and weary, + For the light? + + Wouldst be free from the dominions + That control; + Spreading all thy golden pinions + Toward the goal? + + Gladly, gladly, would I free thee + From Earth's thrall! + With what bliss and joy to see thee + Rise o'er all! + + But 'tis not for me to aid thee + In thy flight; + For the Holy One who made thee, + Doeth right. + + When his own good time arriveth, + Then will He, + From the load with which thou strivest, + Set thee free. + + + + + OUR HELEN. + + + Our Helen is a "perfect love" + Of a blue-eyed baby; + When she's grown she'll be a belle, + And a "Venus," may be. + + Such a cunning little mouth, + Lips as red as cherry, + And she smiles on all around + In a way so merry. + + Laughs, and crows, and claps her hands, + Springs, and hops, and dances, + As if her little brain overflowed + With lively, tripping fancies. + + Then she'll arch her pretty neck, + And toss her head so queenly, + And, when she's weary, fall asleep + And slumber so serenely. + + She has a cunning kind of way + Of looking sly and witty, + As if to say, in baby words, + "I know I'm very pretty." + + She bites her "mammy," scratches "nurse," + And makes droll mouths at "pappy;" + We can but love the roguish thing, + She looks so bright and happy. + + The dinner-table seems to be + The crown of all her wishes, + For there the gypsy's sure to have + A hand in all the dishes. + + But why should we essay to sing + Her thousand sprightly graces? + She has the merriest of ways, + The prettiest of faces. + + We know she'll grow a peerless one, + With skin all white and pearly; + And laughing eyes, and auburn locks, + All silky, soft and curly. + + Her baby laugh and sportive glee, + Her spirit's airy lightness, + Surround the pleasant prairie home + With hues of magic brightness. + + + + + MY BONNET OF BLUE. + + + My bonnet of blue, my bonnet of blue, + Its gossamer fineness I'll sing to you; + For a delicate fabric in sooth it was, + All trimmed and finified off with gauze. + My bonnet of blue, my bonnet of blue, + How well I remember thy azure hue! + + To church I wore it, one pleasant day, + Bedecked in ribbons of fanciful ray; + And all the while I sat on my seat + I thought of naught save my bonnet so neat. + My bonnet of blue, my bonnet of blue, + Broke not my heart when I bade thee adieu? + + When service was over, my steps I bent + Towards home, a-nodding my head as I went + But, alas for my bonnet! there came a wind + And blew it away, for the strings were not pinned. + My bonnet of blue, my bonnet of blue, + What shifting scenes have been thine to pass through! + + I raised my eyes to the calm, blue sky, + There sailed my bonnet serene and high! + O, what a feeling of hopeless woe + Stole over me then, no heart may know! + My bonnet of blue, my bonnet of blue, + As clear as the sky was thy azure hue! + + 'Twas vain to mourn for my bonnet, and yet + It taught me a lesson I shall not forget; + 'Twas, never to make you an idol of clay, + For when you best love them they'll fly away. + My bonnet of blue, my bonnet of blue, + I loved thee well, but thou wert untrue! + + + + + DARK-BROWED MARTHA. + + + When the frost-king clothed the forests + In a flood of gorgeous dyes, + Death called little dark-browed Martha + To her mansion in the skies. + 'Twas a calm October Sabbath + When the bell with solemn sound + Knelled her to her quiet slumbers + Low down in the darksome ground. + + Far away, where sun and summer + Reign in glory all the year, + Was the land she left behind her, + To her simple heart so dear. + There a mother and a brother, + Meeting oft at close of day, + Spoke in tender, tearful whispers + Of the loved one far away. + + "I am thinking," said the mother, + "How much Martha'll get to know, + And how smart and bright 'twill make her, + Travellin' round the country so. + 'Spect she'll be a mighty lady, + Shinin' jewels in her ears; + But I hope she won't forget us,-- + Dat is what dis poor heart fears." + + "'Deed she won't," then spoke the brother, + "Martha'll love us just as well + As before she parted from us,-- + Trust me, mammy, I can tell." + Then he passed a hand in silence + O'er his damp and swarthy brow, + Brushed a tear from off the eyelid,-- + "O that she were with us now!" + + "Pshaw! don't cry, Lem," said the mother, + "There's no need of that at all; + Massa said he'd bring her to us + When the nuts began to fall. + The pecans will soon be rattling + From the tall plantation trees, + She'll be here to help us pick them, + Brisk and merry as you please." + + Thus they talked, while she they waited + From the earth had passed away; + Walked no more in pleasant places, + Saw no more the light of day; + Knew no more of toilsome labor, + Spiteful threats or angry blows; + For the Heavenly One had called her + Early from a life of woes. + + Folded we the tiny fingers + On the cold, unmoving breast; + Robed her in a decent garment, + For her long and dreamless rest; + And when o'er the tranquil Sabbath + Evening's rays began to fall, + Followed her with heavy footsteps + To the home that waits us all. + + As we paused beside the churchyard, + Where the tall green maples rise, + Strangers came and viewed the sleeper, + With sad wonder in their eyes; + While my thoughts flew to that mother, + And that brother far away: + How they'd weep and wail, if conscious + This was Martha's burial day! + + When the coffin had been lowered + Carefully into the ground, + And the heavy sods fell on it + With a cold and hollow sound, + Thought I, as we hastened homewards, + By the day's expiring light, + Martha never slept so sweetly + As she'll sleep this Sabbath night. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Eventide, by Effie Afton + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK EVENTIDE *** + +***** This file should be named 20185-8.txt or 20185-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/0/1/8/20185/ + +Produced by Curtis Weyant and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was +produced from images produced by the Wright American Fiction +Project.) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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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: Eventide + A Series of Tales and Poems + +Author: Effie Afton + +Release Date: December 26, 2006 [EBook #20185] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK EVENTIDE *** + + + + +Produced by Curtis Weyant and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was +produced from images produced by the Wright American Fiction +Project.) + + + + + + +</pre> + +<h1>EVENTIDE +</h1> + +<h3>A SERIES OF +</h3> + +<h2>TALES AND POEMS. +</h2> + +<br><h3> +By +</h3> + +<h2>EFFIE AFTON. +</h2> +<br><br> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i14">"I never gaze</p> +<p>Upon the evening, but a tide of awe,</p> +<p>And love, and wonder, from the Infinite,</p> +<p>Swells up within me, as the running brine</p> +<p>From the smooth-glistening, wide-heaving sea,</p> +<p>Grows in the creeks and channels of a stream,</p> +<p>Until it threats its, banks. It is not joy,—</p> +<p>'Tis sadness more divine."</p></div></div> + +<p class="mid"> +<span class="sc">Alexander Smith</span>. +</p> +<br><br> + + +<h3>BOSTON: +</h3> + +<h4> +FETRIDGE AND COMPANY. +</h4> + +<h4> +1854. +</h4> +<br> + + +<h4> +Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1854, by +<br>J. M. HARPER, +<br>In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the +District of Massachusetts. +</h4> + +<br> + + +<h4>Stereotyped by +<br>HOBART & ROBBINS, +<br>New England Type and Stereotype Foundery, +<br>BOSTON. +</h4> + + + +<br><hr class="short"> +<p class="ctr"> +<i>To the</i> +</p> + +<p class="ctr"> +FIRESIDES OF THE WESTERN WORLD, +</p> + +<p class="ctr"> +<i>With the fond Hope</i> +</p> + +<p class="ctr"> +THAT ITS PAGES MAY SERVE TO ENLIVEN OR ENTERTAIN SOME FEW<br>OF THOSE EVENING +HOURS WHEN PLEASANT FACES GATHER<br>ROUND WARM, GLOWING HEARTH-STONES, +</p> + +<p class="ctr"> +<i>This simple Volume</i> +</p> + +<p class="ctr">IS UNOBTRUSIVELY PRESENTED, +</p> + +<p class="ctr">BY THE +</p> + +<p class="ctr">UNKNOWN AND NAMELESS AUTHOR, +</p> + +<p class="ctr">WHO WOULD +RATHER FIND WARM HEARTS AMONG HER READERS<br>THAN WIN THE LAURELS OF +A TRANSITORY FAME. +</p><hr class="short"> + + + +<p class="ctr"> +<b>Transcriber's Note:</b> +</p> + +<p class="note"> +There are two instances of illegible words in this text, both as +a result of ink blots.<br>They have been indicated as [illegible]. +</p><hr class="short"> +<br> + + +<h3> +PREFACE. +</h3> +<br> + +<p> +When the sun has disappeared behind the western mountains, and the stars +sparkled o'er the blue concave, we have been accustomed to sit down to +the compilation of this unpretending volume, and therefore it is called +"Eventide." O, that its pages might be read at that calm, silent +hour,—their follies mercifully overlooked, their faults as kindly +forgiven. +</p> + +<p> +Fain would we dedicate this "waif of weary moments" to some warm-hearted, +watchful spirit, who might shelter it from the pitiless assaults of the +wide, wide world. But will not our simple booklet prove too insignificant +a mark for the critic's arrows? +</p> + +<p> +In the language of another, we confidently say, melancholy is indifferent +to criticism. +</p> + +<p> +Thus, +</p> + +<p class="ctr"> +"In our own weakness shielded," +</p> + +<p> +O, Reading Public, we steal upon you 'mid the falling shadows, and lay +"Eventide" at your feet. +</p> + + +<hr class="med"> +<br> +<h3> +CONTENTS. +</h3> + + +<p class="page"> +<small>PAGE</small> +</p> +<br> +<ul class="toc"> +<li> +WIMBLEDON; OR, THE HERMIT OF THE CEDARS,<span class="ralign"><a href="#7">7</a></span> +</li> + +<li> +SCRAGGIEWOOD, A TALE OF AMERICAN LIFE,<span class="ralign"><a href="#245">245</a></span> +</li> + +<li> +ALICE ORVILLE; OR, LIFE IN THE SOUTH AND WEST,<span class="ralign"><a href="#329">329</a></span> +</li> + +<li> +COME TO ME WHEN I'M DYING,<span class="ralign"><a href="#401">401</a></span> +</li> + +<li> +ELLEN,<span class="ralign"><a href="#404">404</a></span> +</li> + + +<li> +I'M TIRED OF LIFE,<span class="ralign"><a href="#405">405</a></span> +</li> + + +<li> +LINES TO A FRIEND, ON REMOVING FROM HER NATIVE VILLAGE,<span class="ralign"><a href="#407">407</a></span> +</li> + + +<li> +HO FOR CALIFORNIA!<span class="ralign"><a href="#409">409</a></span> +</li> + + +<li> +N. P. ROGERS,<span class="ralign"><a href="#411">411</a></span> +</li> + + +<li> +LINES,<span class="ralign"><a href="#413">413</a></span> +</li> + + +<li> +HENRY CLAY,<span class="ralign"><a href="#415">415</a></span> +</li> + + +<li> +THE SOUL'S DESTINY,<span class="ralign"><a href="#417">417</a></span> +</li> + +<li> +LINES TO A MARRIED FRIEND,<span class="ralign"><a href="#419">419</a></span> +</li> + + +<li> +NEW ENGLAND SABBATH BELLS,<span class="ralign"><a href="#421">421</a></span> +</li> + + +<li> +MY HEART,<span class="ralign"><a href="#423">423</a></span> +</li> + + +<li> +OUR HELEN,<span class="ralign"><a href="#425">425</a></span> +</li> + + +<li> +MY BONNET OF BLUE,<span class="ralign"><a href="#427">427</a></span> +</li> + + +<li> +DARK-BROWED MARTHA,<span class="ralign"><a href="#429">429</a></span> +</li> +</ul> + + + +<hr class="med"> +<br> + +<h3> +<a name="7">WIMBLEDON; +<br>OR +<br>THE HERMIT OF THE CEDARS.</a> +</h3> + + + + +<p class="chapter"> +CHAPTER I. +</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>"The stars are out, and by their glistening light,</p> +<p>I fain would whisper in thine ear a tale;</p> +<p>Wilt hear it kindly? and if long and dull</p> +<p>Believe me far more deeply grieved than thou."</p></div></div><br> + + +<p> +Clear and loud on the hushed silence of the midnight hour rang the chimes +of the village clock, from the tall steeple-tower of the quaint old +church of Wimbledon, while several ambitious chickens rose from their +neighboring perches, piped a shrill answering salute, and sank to their +nocturnal slumbers again. But nor clock nor chanticleer disturbed +Wimbledon. Still she slept on beneath the blossoming stars; and by their +soft, inspiring light, with your permission, gentle reader, we'll enter +the sleeping village. +</p> + +<p> +Dim gleams of snowy cottages, peeping through a wealth of embowering +vines, steal on our star-lighted vision as we roam along the grassy +streets, and we scent the breath of gardens odorous with the sweets of +dew-watered flowers. Above and around we hear the musical stir of the +night wind among boughs and branches of luxuriant foliage, while ever and +anon it comes from afar with a deep-toned, solemn murmur, as though it +swept o'er forests of cedar and mournfully-echoing pine. Still roaming +on, the low rippling of flowing waters comes soothingly to our ears, and +we pause on the bank of a flower-bordered river that goes sweetly singing +on its way to the distant ocean. A tiny sailboat lies in a sheltering +cove, rocked gently to and fro by the swaying current. On a hill beyond +the stream we mark a large white-belfried building, relieved against a +dark background of wide-stretching timber-land. And turning our delighted +footsteps down an avenue of lofty cedar and linden trees, there rises at +length before our vision a splendid mansion, built after a most beautiful +style of architecture, with deep, bay windows, long corridors and +vine-covered terraces. Magnificent gardens, displaying the perfection of +taste, lay sloping to the southward. On the east the silvery river was +seen glancing through the shrubbery that adorned its banks. To the west +lay a beautiful park and pleasure ground, while far away to the northward +stretched the deep, dense forest, tall, dark and sombre. +</p> + +<p> +And over all this lovely scene the stars shed their mild, ethereal light. +O, Wimbledon! art thou not beautiful 'neath their soft, silver gleams? +And doth not shadowy-vested romance roam thy grassy paths and +flower-strewn ways to-night, and with her wild, mysterious eyes gloating +on thy entrancing scenery, doth she not resolve to dwell awhile, 'mid thy +embowering vines, thy dewy-petalled flowers, mournfully-musical +cedar-groves, and web a fiction from the thousand tangled threads which +complicate and ramify thy social life? +</p> + +<p> +We shall see what we shall see in Wimbledon; for gray dawn is already +breaking in the dappled east, and a man, closely buttoned to the chin in +a gray overcoat, emerges from a large brick mansion on the outskirts of +the village, and directs his steps toward an old, black, rickety-looking +house, which stands just on the bank of the river, surrounded by a +tangled growth of brush-wood. +</p> + +<p> +Here the gairish day at length disclosed what the modest night had +obscured with her diamond veil of stars. Squalid poverty glared through +the broken window-panes, and want seemed clattering her doleful song on +the flying clapboards and crazy casements. A feeble, struggling light +from within showed the inmates were stirring as the man in the overcoat +gave a loud, careless thump on the trembling door, which was opened by a +pale, gaunt-looking urchin, clad in garments bearing patches of divers +hues. +</p> + +<p> +"Is your mother at home, Bill?" inquired the man, gruffly. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, sir," answered the boy in a meek tone; "will you please to walk in, +Mr. Pimble?" +</p> + +<p> +"No; tell her I want her to come and wash for me to-day," said the man, +in a harsh, rough voice, as he turned away. +</p> + +<p> +The boy bowed and reëntered the miserable apartment, where a few soggy +chips smoked on a bed of embers that were gathered in the corner of a +huge fire-place. A woman, with a begrimed cotton handkerchief tied over +her head, sat on the hearth endeavoring to blow them into a blaze, while +the smoke, that poured down the foul and blackened chimney, caused the +tears to roll from her eyes, and baffled her efforts. +</p> + +<p> +"Never mind the fire, mother," said the lad, approaching; "I'll try and +pick up some dry sticks in course of the day to have the room warm when +you come home to-night. Mr. Pimble has just called, and wants you to go +and wash for him to-day." +</p> + +<p> +"He won't pay me a cent if I go," answered the woman moodily; "all my +drudgery for that family goes to pay the rent of this miserable old +shell." +</p> + +<p> +"I think he will give you something to-day, mother, if you tell him how +needy we are," suggested the boy. +</p> + +<p> +"Never a cent," said the woman, with a gloomy shake of her head; +"however, I may as well go. I shall get a cup of tea and bit of dinner, +and I'll look out to bring you a cake, Willie." +</p> + +<p> +"O, will you, mother?" exclaimed the boy, his wan features brightening +momentarily at the prospect of a single cake to appease the gnawings of +hunger. +</p> + +<p> +The woman threw a coarse, threadbare blanket over her shoulders and went +forth, while the boy bent his way along the riverbank in search of dry +twigs and branches with which to replenish their wasted stock of fuel. +And he thought, as he picked up here and there the scanty sticks and laid +them in small bundles, of some lines of poetry he read on a bit of +newspaper that blew across his path one day: +</p> + +<div class="poemtext"> +<div class="stanzatext"> +<p>"If joy and pain in this nether world,</p> +<p class="i2">Must fairly balanced be,</p> +<p>O, why not some of the <i>pain</i> to them.</p> +<p class="i2">And some of the <i>joy</i> to me?"</p></div></div> + +<p> +And he could not settle the point in his youthful mind. He could not +tell why David Pimble should go to school the year round at the great, +white seminary on the hill, while he could only go about two months in +the cold, biting winter to a town-school a mile distant. He could not +tell why said David should have warm woollen jackets, while his were +threadbare and patched with rags; nor why David should fare sumptuously +on buttered toast and smoking muffins, while he starved on the crusts +that were cast from his well-spread table. +</p> + +<p> +All these were knotty points which poor little Willie Danforth was too +young and untaught to solve. When he should be older and wiser, would he +be able to solve them? He didn't know;—he hoped so; though he feared he +never would be much wiser than now, if he was always to remain so poor, +and be debarred from the privilege of attending school. +</p> + +<p> +There's one school whose doors are and have ever been open wide for +Willie—the school of poverty and experience. Lessons swift and bitter +are indelibly impressed on the minds of the pupils there. +</p> + +<p> +Thoughtful and abstracted, Willie wandered along, gathering his little +bundles of firewood, till he found himself at the foot of the hill on +which stood the great, white seminary where David Pimble, his brother and +sister, went to school month after month and year after year. He heard +voices, and, looking up, beheld the little group that were occupying his +thoughts, on the hill-top, laughing and mocking at him as he toiled along +with his bundles of sticks. His cheeks glowed with anger for a moment, +and then grew ashy pale, as he plodded on toward his miserable home. +</p> + +<p> +Dilly Danforth, the poor washerwoman, had seen better days; but the +drunken dissipation of a husband, who was now in his grave, had reduced +her to abject, despairing poverty. Her unfortunate marriage and +persistence in clinging to the man of her choice, and enduring all his +abuses, excited the displeasure of her family, and they cast her from +them to suffer and struggle on as best she might. She knew not as she had +a relative in the world. She surely had no friend, save Willie, her +little boy, with whom she dwelt in the comfortless abode we have briefly +visited. +</p> + +<p> +Alas for the suffering poor! How prone are the wealthy, by warm, glowing +grates, to forget their cheerless habitations, and turn inhumanly from +their pitiful tales of want and destitution! +</p> + + + + +<p class="chapter"> +CHAPTER II. +</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>"This work-day world, this work-day world,</p> +<p class="i4">How it doth plod along!"</p></div></div><br> + + +<p> +Tap, tap, tap, on the back kitchen door of Esq. Pimble's great brick +mansion, and a clattering of plates and tea things within which quite +drowned the timid knock. A second and louder one brought a fat, red-faced +woman with rolled-up sleeves and a dish-towel in hand, to answer the +summons. +</p> + +<p> +"Sakes, Dilly Danforth!" exclaimed she, on beholding the well-known, +faded blanket of the washerwoman; "what brings you here so airly in the +mornin'? If you are after cold victuals, I can tell you you can't have +any, for mistress—" +</p> + +<p> +"I am not come seeking charity," said Dilly, cutting short the woman's +brawling speech; "Mr. Pimble wished me to come and wash for him to day." +</p> + +<p> +"<i>He</i> did?" said the bold-visaged housekeeper, opening her large, +buttermilk-colored eyes with astonishment; "well, for sure!"—and here +she seemed debating some matter in her mind for several moments, her hand +still holding the door in forbidding proximity to poor Mrs. Danforth's +pale, grief-worn face. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, you can come in then, I s'pose," she said, at length, flinging it +open spitefully, and returning to the wiping of her breakfast dishes, +which she sent together with such a crash, that poor Dilly, as she stood +over the stove trying to warm her chilly fingers by a decaying fire, +momentarily expected to see them scattered over the floor in a thousand +fragments. +</p> + +<p> +"Sakes! are you cold this warm spring morning?" snarled the plump, +well-fed housekeeper, as she thumped back and forth, carrying her piles +of plates to the cupboard. "Why don't you shut the outside door after +you, then? For my part, I'm most roasted to death." +</p> + +<p> +"You have been in a warm room, while I have not seen a fire this +morning," said Dilly, meekly, as she closed the door and returned to her +place by the stove. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, I wish I hadn't," answered the ireful Mrs. Peggy Nonce;—"a hard +fate is mine; sweltering over a great fire all my life, to cook for a +family that don't know nothing only to make the work as hard as they can. +Now, here's Mr. Pimble goes and gets you here to wash; never tells me a +word about it till you come right in upon me just as I have got my +breakfast things cleared away, settin'-room swept out, and fire all down +in the kitchen. I s'pose you have had nothing to eat to-day, for you +always come half starved, though why you do so I don't know, save to make +me work and get all you can out of us. When Mr. Pimble rents you that +great house so cheap, too! I declare, I should think, with all that man's +trials, he would get to be a hypocrite and believe in total +annihilation." +</p> + +<p> +Dilly made no reply to this speech. Probably the latter part was beyond +her simple comprehension. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Pimble himself, the man of trials, as his housekeeper affirmed, now +opened the sitting-room door and looked forth. He was habited in a long, +faded, palm-figured bed-gown, all muffled up round his chin, and +sheep-skin slippers without heels. He had a lank, pale, discouraged +visage, and thin, light hair, streaked with gray, in a very untidy state +straggling about his face. He pulled his wrapper up yet closer about his +head, when he discovered the washerwoman, and shambled across the +clean-swept floor, his heelless slippers going clip-clap after him, as he +stalked along. What a gaunt, unhealthy-looking personage was the rich +Peter Paul Pimble, Esq., of Mudget Square! +</p> + +<p> +"Well, you are come, then, are you?" said he, glancing toward the kitchen +clock, which was on the stroke of eight; "pretty time to commence a day's +work." +</p> + +<p> +"And she has had no breakfast; and the water is not in the kettles," put +in dame Peggy. "I could have had that all hot for her, if you had just +told me she was comin' to wash. But some folks always like to be so sly +and underhanded." +</p> + +<p> +"Stop your clack!" said the master, turning toward her with an angry +glance, "and get a bite of something to eat while she is putting her +water on and building a fire. I shall be at home through the day to +superintend matters and see that all is done to my wishes." +</p> + +<p> +Thus saying, he scuffled back to his warm fire in the parlor; for, though +it was a bright morning in the early part of May, and odorous flowers +opening their petals to the genial sunbeams, and groups of singing birds +merry on all the foliage-covered trees, still Esq. Pimble was +cold—always cold, summer and winter. No genial influence could warm his +sluggish blood, or impart a glow to his dry, parchment-colored face. +</p> + +<p> +There he sat; his feet poised on the fender, and a newspaper in his +skinny clutch, from which he seemed to read. Now and then he yawned, +stretched himself, approached the window, gazed forth for a moment with +some anxiety depicted on his expressionless face, and then sunk down in +his cushioned chair again. All the while the washing was going on briskly +in the kitchen. Peggy Nonce had outlived her morning's asperity, and +concluded to bake a batch of dried apple pies, as there must be a fire +kept in the stove for Billy, and it would save burning the wood another +day for the express purpose of cooking operations. So it appeared dame +Peggy, with all her tempers, had one good point at least, and one but +seldom found in servants,—a lookout for her employer's interests. The +bluffy housekeeper was given to gossip, too, as all of her class are; and +who could give her a better synopsis of the private affairs of half the +families in Wimbledon, than Dilly Danforth, the washerwoman, who +performed the drudgery and slop-work in many of the fine homes of the +upper class? But, after all, Peggy had more to give than receive; for by +some means the poor washerwoman did not seem possessed of the "gift of +gab." She was lamentably ignorant on many points where Peggy thought, +with her advantages, <i>she</i> would have been well-informed and able to +answer any question proposed. And so the news-loving housekeeper, though +she remembered her master's interests in the article of firewood, was +fain to forget them in a matter of far more importance, and broached +forth into a long tale of his trials and domestic discomforts. Warming +with her discourse as she proceeded, her voice grew so shrill and +vehement, that Mr. Pimble, had he not been deeply engaged in poring over +the trials his loquacious housekeeper was so eloquently setting forth to +her silent and rather inattentive listener, he would have discovered +himself the hero of a tale which might have lost Mrs. Peggy Nonee a place +she had occupied half a lifetime. But Mr. Pimble sat in bed-gown and +slippers till dinner was announced at one <span class="sc">P.M.</span>, and the three +young Pimbles tumbled into the hall in boisterous glee, just escaped from +the restraint of school discipline. They all rushed to the table at once, +and called for half a dozen kinds of food in a voice, which the glum, +abstracted father heaped indiscriminately on their plates. There was no +sound save the clatter of knives and forks for several minutes, while the +interesting family discussed their amply-provided and well-prepared meal. +At length Master Garrison Pimble, a lad of a dozen years, declared sister +Sukey had got the biggest piece of venison pie. Susan, a little girl of +seven summers, said she "didn't care if she had; she ought to have." +</p> + +<p> +"No, you oughtn't either," returned Master Garrison, "for you are not +half as big as I." +</p> + +<p> +"I don't care for that," lisped Susan; "mammy says women ought to have +the best and most of everything, and do just what they like to, and go +just where they want to." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, they shouldn't do any such thing, should they, father?" demanded +the argument-loving Garrison. +</p> + +<p> +"Eat your dinners quietly, my children," returned the silent father, "and +not meddle with matters you do not understand." +</p> + +<p> +"But I do understand them," continued the youth. "I know sister Sukey +ought not to have the largest piece of pie, and she shan't." +</p> + +<p> +Thus saying, he made a dive at Miss Susan's plate, and bore off her +generous slice of venison pastry on his fork. Susey screamed at the top +of her voice, and, clutching her hands in her brother's hair, she pulled +it so vigorously he was fain to drop his prize, which fell to the carpet +and was devoured by a half-starved grimalkin, while he boxed his sister's +ears soundly for her vixen attack upon his bushy black hair. +</p> + +<p> +"I'll learn you to pull my hair!" said he, with a very red face. +</p> + +<p> +"I'll learn you to steal my pie!" shrieked she, as, maddened by her +smarting ears, she flew at him and dug long, bloody scratches in his +cheeks with her sharp little nails. The father now parted the combatants, +and shut the warlike Susey in the closet, where she was loud in +pronouncing maledictions against her brother, and heaping vituperations +upon her father; declaring, when mammy came home, she would tell her how +she was abused in her absence, and mammy would take sides with her, +because she knew men were all cross and ugly, and tried to hurt and wrong +poor feeble woman. Garrison and David finished their meal in silence; and +when the seminary bell rang to announce the hour for reöpening of school, +Mr. Pimble liberated Susey, and all went shouting off together. +</p> + +<p> +Then he called in Dilly and the housekeeper, and, while they dined on the +fragments, went out in the kitchen to inspect the progress there. All +seemed to be moving on well, and, as he was returning to his seat by the +sitting-room fire, a covered buggy drove to the front piazza, and a +gentleman descended and assisted two ladies to alight. Directly the +parlor was dashed open, and the trio made their entry. Foremost was the +mistress of the mansion, Mrs. Judith Justitia Pimble. What a puny, +trembling thing appeared the husband, as he stood there like a galvanized +mummy in presence of that tall, portly woman, with her broad shoulders +and commanding aspect! Her first act was to smother the fire; her second, +to throw open the windows; her third, to ensconce herself in her liege +lord's easy-chair, and bid her guests lay aside their travelling garbs, +and make themselves at home. Finding his comfortable seat appropriated, +and no notice vouchsafed him, Mr. Pimble shuffled off into the kitchen. +</p> + +<p> +"Was that your husband, sister Justitia?" inquired the lady visitor, as +she threw off her shawl and bonnet, with an energetic toss. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," answered the majestic lady in her most majestic tone, "that was +Pimble. You will not mind him at all; he is as near nothing as can be,—a +mere crank to keep the machine in motion,—you understand. He has his +sphere, however. The lowest brute animals have theirs. Pimble's is to +stay at home and superintend the minor matters of life, such as milking +the kine, feeding the chickens, and slaughtering a lamb occasionally to +subserve the grosser wants of poor human nature. In brief, all those +trivial and perplexing things in which a superior mind cannot be supposed +to feel an interest, and by which it is not right it should be fettered, +and prevented from soaring to its own lofty sphere of thought and +action." +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Pimble paused for breath as she delivered herself of the above +voluble speech, and the lady visitor replied: +</p> + +<p> +"You speak heroicly, sister Justitia. I see you have obtained your +rightful position in your own household. O, would that all our crushed +and down-trodden sisters were possessed of but a tithe of your energy and +independence of character! Then would our young Reform, which encounters +on every side the swords and pickaxes of infuriate battalions of the +tyrant man, ride in triumphal chariot over our whole broad country's +proud domain!" +</p> + +<p> +"Ah, sister Simcoe, how doth your inspired language fill my soul with +fire! I rejoice that you are come among us. How will your presence +encourage our ranks, and, in the triumph of your medical skill, vile male +usurpers of the healing art shall sink to rise no more! I long to read +again the proceedings of our late convention, the thrilling speeches, the +sweeping resolutions!" +</p> + +<p> +"Let us thus occupy ourselves," said young Dr. Simcoe, turning toward a +remote corner of the apartment where sat the small man who had +accompanied the ladies, perched on a hard, uncushioned chair, his hands +folded in his lap, and his eyes bent studiously on the carpet. This was +the personage on whom the accomplished young medical practitioner had, a +few months previous, condescended to bestow the princely honor of her +hand. +</p> + +<p> +"Sim," said the eloquent wife, as she glanced carelessly upon him, "where +are the portmanteaus?" +</p> + +<p> +"In the entry," answered the small man, raising his eyes for a moment to +his fair consort's face. +</p> + +<p> +"Bring them in and open them," said the lady, again sinking down in her +soft seat. +</p> + +<p> +The small man disappeared in a twinkling, and the portmanteaus were soon +placed on the table, and their contents spread forth. +</p> + +<p> +"I will now order some refreshment," said Mrs. Pimble;—"and while it is +preparing, we can amuse ourselves with the documents. What would you +prefer for your dinner, sister Simcoe?" +</p> + +<p> +"Pea soup," returned the lady doctor; "that is my uniform dish,—simple +and plain." +</p> + +<p> +"And Mr. Simcoe, what would he choose?" +</p> + +<p> +"O, he has no choice!—anything that comes handiest will do for him." +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Pimble glanced toward Mr. Simcoe. Mr. Simcoe simpered and bowed. So +Mrs. Pimble swept into the kitchen to issue her commands. She started on +beholding Dilly Danforth bending over a wash-tub filled to the brim with +smoking linen, just out of a boiling suds. Darting one fiery glance +toward her forceless husband, sitting humped up over the stove, his head +supported on his hands, she exclaimed, "What does this mean?" Mr. Pimble +looked up vacantly; Peggy turned round from her occupation of washing the +dinner dishes, and Dilly kept to her wash-tub. No one seemed to +understand to whom the stately mistress addressed her brief +interrogatory. "Have you all lost your tongues?" at length exclaimed Mrs. +Pimble, in a louder tone; and, seizing her husband's chair, she gave it a +rough jerk, and demanded, "Are you dumb, Peter Pimble? What is that +beggar-woman,"—pointing toward Dilly,—"doing here?" +</p> + +<p> +"Don't you see she is washing?" returned the husband, rather ironically. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, by whose leave?" +</p> + +<p> +"Mine." +</p> + +<p> +"Yours?—and why have you brought a washerwoman into the house in my +absence, and without my permission?" +</p> + +<p> +"Because all my linen was dirty." +</p> + +<p> +"What if it was?" +</p> + +<p> +"I wanted it washed." +</p> + +<p> +"What for?" +</p> + +<p> +"Because the spring courts are held in Olneyville next week." +</p> + +<p> +"What if they are?" +</p> + +<p> +"I would like to attend." +</p> + +<p> +"You would, would you? No doubt, and confine me at home to superintend +the domestic affairs. No, Mr. Pimble, you don't enslave me in that +manner. I'm a free woman, and acknowledge no man master. I'll see if I'm +not mistress in my own house. Here, Dilly Danforth, take your hands out +of that wash-tub, and pack off home, instanter. There will be no more +washing done in my house to-day, or ever again, unless I order it done. +And you, Peggy Nonce, make a pea soup and broil a nice steak, with all +the appropriate dishes, and have a dinner prepared in half an hour, to +serve myself and guests." +</p> + +<p> +There was an instant commotion in the kitchen, and the mistress swept +back to her guests in the parlor. +</p> + + + + +<p class="chapter"> +CHAPTER III. +</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>"She is a saucy wench,</p> +<p class="i12">Somewhat o'er full</p> +<p>Of pranks, I think—but then with growing years</p> +<p>She will outgrow her mischief and become</p> +<p>As staid and sober as our hearts could choose."</p></div></div> + +<p class="mid"> +<span class="sc">Old Play</span>. +</p><br> + + +<p> +Mr. Salsify Mumbles was a grocer in a small way, and his good wife took +boarders,—young ladies and gentlemen from different parts of the +country, who came to attend Cedar Hill Seminary, a school of high repute +and extended celebrity. Her number was limited to three this summer, +because she conceived her health to be delicate, and because Mr. Salsify +had communicated to her in private that he was certainly "rising in his +profession;" and the quick-sighted lady foresaw the day speedily +approaching when she would no longer be obliged to perplex herself with +so ungrateful a class of beings as boarders, but should roll through the +streets of Wimbledon in her coach and four, the "observed of all +observers." +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Mumbles had one fair daughter, Mary Madeline, upon whom she doted +with true maternal fondness. This young lady was most perversely inclined +to smile upon one Mr. Dick Giblet, a clerk in her father's grocery. Mrs. +Mumbles was inconsolable, and Mr. Giblet was banished from the premises, +and taken into employ by the firm of Edson & Co., the largest merchants +in Wimbledon. +</p> + +<p> +Rumor said these gentlemen were so well pleased with the young man, that +they had offered him a yearly salary of several hundred dollars, and +proposed, should he continue to perform his duties as well as hitherto, +to take him into the firm, on his coming of age. Mrs. Salsify now began +to regard Dick with different eyes, as what prudent mother would not? She +sent Mary Madeline to the store of Edson & Co., whenever she was in want +of a spool of cotton or yard of tape; but the young clerk had grown so +vain with his elevation, that he looked very loftily down upon her, bowed +in the most distant manner, and never exchanged more words with her than +were necessary in the buying and selling of an article. So Mary Madeline +told her mother, and upbraided her as the cause of the young man's cold +treatment. Mrs. Salsify bade her daughter be of good cheer. "'Twas all a +feint on Dick's part, to conceal his love till he was sure of hers,—all +would come round right in time." But Mary Madeline would not believe it, +and said she should die if she had to stay in the back store alone so +much, sorting spices and writing labels, for she was constantly thinking +of Dick, who used to be with her. She must have something to divert her +attention; and, at length, Mrs. Salsify hit upon the project of sending +her to school at the seminary one term. It was fitting that the daughter +of the rich Mr. Mumbles that was to be, should be possessed of suitable +polish and refinement to adorn the high circles in which her position +would call her to move. So Miss Mumbles answered to her name among the +two hundred scholars, male and female, that had assembled in the halls of +Cedar Hill Seminary, for the summer term. Quite a sensation she produced +in her gay muslin dress and fiery-colored silk apron; for Mrs. Salsify +declared her resolve to dress her tip-top. She was not the woman to half +do a thing, when she undertook; she always came up to the mark, or went a +little beyond. Better overshoot than fall short, was her motto. And when +Mary Madeline came home, on the evening of her debut at the seminary, +walking between the two young lady boarders, Amy Seaton and Jenny +Andrews, Mrs. Mumbles could not avoid drawing a comparison between the +three; and her daughter appeared to her like a blazing star between two +sombre clouds, for Miss Seaton and Miss Andrews, who were both orphans, +wore plain, dark gingham frocks and linen aprons. The third boarder was a +little brother of Miss Seaton's, about a dozen years of age. Charlie was +his name; a bright, intelligent boy, brimful of mischief and fun. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Salsify kept no girl;—she could not find a good one, she said,—a +bad one she would not have, as long as she could manage to perform her +work herself, which she thought she could do with Mary Madeline's +assistance nights and mornings. It would not be for long, she trusted, +this slavery to boarders, for Mr. Salsify continued to inform her, at +stated intervals, that he was certainly "rising in his profession." +</p> + +<p> +The husband and wife sat alone one evening, indulging in confidential +discourse, as 'tis said conjugal mates are wont to do on certain +occasions. +</p> + +<p> +"Really," exclaimed Mrs. Mumbles, "it is astonishing, the quantity of +victuals these boarders consume. It is so unfeminine and indelicate for +young ladies to have appetites. I declare it quite shocks me to see the +large slices of bread and butter disappearing down Jenny Andrews' little +throat, and, as for that Charles Seaton, I believe he would eat a whole +plum pudding if he could get it. I left off making them long ago." +</p> + +<p> +"I have not noticed one on the table for several days," returned Mr. +Salsify, "and, as I saw the last one was sent away untouched, I feared +they had detected the musty raisins." +</p> + +<p> +"O, la, no! the greedy mugs don't know the difference, I assure you," +answered the wife, "'twas only because they had stuffed themselves so +full of veal pie, that the pudding was not devoured." Just then Amy +Seaton came in and asked if she might get a lunch for Charlie, as he was +not in season for supper. +</p> + +<p> +"O, yes!" answered Mrs. Salsify, in her blandest tone; "here are the +keys. I lock the pantry because Mr. Mumbles is so absent-minded he often +leaves the door open, and the cat gets in and devours the victuals. Get +just what you want for Charlie and a lunch for yourself and Jenny if you +choose." +</p> + +<p> +"Thank you," said Amy taking the bunch of keys from Mrs. Salsify's hand. +Wide swung the pantry door on its creaking hinges, and Amy's eyes +brightened as she stepped in, thinking of the little feast they were to +have up stairs on the good lady's sudden fit of generosity. She glanced +her light eagerly along the shelves in search of pies and sweet cakes, +for she had seen Mrs. Salsify baking a large amount of good things that +morning; but nothing met her wistful gaze save a plateful of burnt +gingerbread crusts which had been picked over and left after the +evening's meal, a plate of refuse meat, and a few bits of salt cod-fish +in a broken saucer. She was about to go and tell Mrs. Mumbles her pantry +was destitute of victuals, when she recollected that lady superintended +her own work, and she should only inform her of what she already knew. +Several similar instances of the lady's singular generosity now occurred +to her mind. She recollected one day, on coming in unexpectedly from +school, of finding Mrs. Salsify buying a large quantity of cherries, and +of her saying she was going to pick them over, and would set them on the +dairy shelf where she might go and eat of them whenever she chose. But +Amy could not find them anywhere, and when she innocently asked Mrs. +Salsify where she had put them, that good lady, after blushing and +stammering a good deal, said they proved so dirty she was obliged to +throw them away. This and other similar occurrences decided Amy to say +nothing of the destitution of the pantry. So she returned the keys to her +boarding mistress, and, without a word, ascended to her room, where she +gave Charlie the bit of fish and crust of gingerbread she had obtained. +</p> + +<p> +"Is this all I'm to have for my supper?" said he, looking ruefully on the +scanty, unpalatable food. +</p> + +<p> +"'Tis all I can find in the pantry, bub," answered Amy; "can't you make +it answer for to-night? and to-morrow I will buy you something nice at +the bakery." +</p> + +<p> +"Why," said Jenny, raising her dark, fun-loving eyes from a problem in +Euclid, "I saw Mrs. Mumbles baking mince pies, and custards and plum +cake, this morning." +</p> + +<p> +"Bah," said Charlie, "I don't want any of her plum cake if she puts the +same kind of raisins in it she does in her puddings. But, Jenny, I think +I know where she keeps her nice victuals." +</p> + +<p> +"Where?" asked Jenny, with an earnest look on Charlie's cunning face. +</p> + +<p> +"Have you never noticed that great tin boiler under her bed?" Jenny burst +into an uncontrollable fit of laughter, which Amy vainly endeavored to +silence, and directly Mary Madeline appeared and said, "Mother would like +to have a little less noise if they could favor her, as she had company +below." Then the three sat down on the floor, and Jenny and Charlie +planned a midnight attack upon the tin boiler. Amy, who was more sedate +and cautious, advised them to desist; but 'twas just the exploit for +Jenny's frolicsome, mischievous temperament. Charlie was to take a +pillow-case, and creep softly under the bed, and fill it from the +supposed contents of the mysterious boiler, while Jenny stood at the +kitchen door to assist him in bearing the precious burden to their room. +How slow the hours passed after the plot was formed ere it could be +carried into execution! Mrs. Salsify in the parlor below kept wishing her +visitors would go, for she had never seen the wicks in the camphene lamps +of so surprising a length. They flooded the whole room with light, and +she recollected Jenny Andrews had asked the privilege of trimming them +after they were last used. She dared not rise and pick them down, for +such narrow-souled persons as she are always fearful that the truth will +be known and their littleness exposed; so she sat in a perfect fever, +watching the fluid getting every moment lower, and scarcely heeding the +remarks of her guests. At length they took their departure, and Mrs. +Salsify rushed in a sort of frenzy to the lamps, and dropped the caps +over the blazing wicks. +</p> + +<p> +"Mary Madeline," said Mr. Mumbles, reprovingly, "don't you know how to +trim a lamp properly? Enough fluid has been wasted to-night by means of +those long wicks to last two evenings with wicks of a proper length." +</p> + +<p> +"'Tis none of Maddie's doings," returned Mrs. S., "she is more prudent +than that. 'Twas that hussy of a Jenny Andrews who trimmed them after +Miss Pinkerton was here the other night." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, the girl ought to pay for the waste she has occasioned," said Mr. +Salsify, gruffly. "Let us retire now; I declare 'tis near eleven +o'clock." The conspirators in the room above heard with eager ears the +departure of the guests, and sat in perfect silence till midnight chimed +from the old clock tower. Then Charlie Seaton, pillow-case in hand, crept +silently down the stairs with Jenny close behind him. Mrs. Mumbles' +bed-room opened out of the kitchen, and the door was always standing +ajar. Thus Charlie's quick eye had detected the boiler while sitting at +the dining table directly opposite her room. As he now paused a moment in +the kitchen before crossing the forbidden precincts, the deep-drawn +sonorous breathings convinced him that Mr. and Mrs. Salsify Mumbles were +lulled in their deepest nocturnal slumbers. Gently dropping on his knees, +he crawled softly to the object of plunder. Lucky chance! the cover was +off, and the first thing his hand touched was a knife plunged to the hilt +in a large loaf. This he captured and deposited in his bag. Then followed +pies, tarts, etc., and last a small jar, which he took under his arm, +and, thus encumbered, crept on all-fours to the kitchen door, where Jenny +relieved him of the jar. They softly ascended the stairs, where Amy was +ready to receive them. +</p> + +<p> +"How dared you take that jar?" said she; "what does it contain?" +</p> + +<p> +"I don't know," said Charlie; "but I know what my pillow-case contains. +It was never so well lined before, Amy." +</p> + +<p> +Thus saying, he commenced removing its contents, while Jenny pulled the +knife out of the loaf, which proved to be pound cake, uncovered the jar, +and pronounced it filled with cherry jam. "Ay," said Amy, "there's where +those cherries I saw her buying of Dilly Danforth went, then. She told me +they were so dirty she had to throw them away. But I think you had better +go and carry these things back." +</p> + +<p> +"Never," said Charlie; "I am going to eat my fill once in Mrs. Mumbles' +house." +</p> + +<p> +"But what will she say when she discovers her loss?" +</p> + +<p> +"That is just what I'm anxious to know," said Jenny. +</p> + +<p> +"So am I," returned Charlie, chopping off a large slice of pound cake and +dividing two pies in halves. "The old lady goes in for treating her +visitors well, don't she? I dare say these condiments were intended to +supply her guests for years. I wish we had some spoons to eat this cherry +jam." +</p> + +<p> +"You had better carry that back," said Amy. +</p> + +<p> +"No, I will not go down on my knees and crawl under Mrs. Salsify's bed +again to-night on any consideration." +</p> + +<p> +"Neither would I," said Jenny, "the old adage is 'as well be killed for a +sheep as a lamb;' so let us enjoy ourselves to the utmost in our power. +Here is food enough, of the best kind too, to serve us well for the +remainder of our stay here, only a week longer you know. I'll keep it +locked in my trunk." +</p> + +<p> +So saying, they cleared away, and Charlie bade good-night, and all +retired to bright visions of pound cake and cherry jelly. +</p> + + + + +<p class="chapter"> +CHAPTER IV. +</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">"She was a lovely little ladye,</p> +<p class="i4">With blue eyes beaming sunnily;</p> +<p class="i4">And loved to carry charity</p> +<p class="i4">To the abodes of misery."</p></div></div><br> + + +<p> +There was a tiny bark floating down the flower-bordered river that wound +so gracefully through the beautiful village of Wimbledon, and a smiling +little lady, in a neat gingham sun-bonnet, sat coseyly in the stern, +beneath the shady wing of the snow-white sail. A noble-looking lad plied +the oar with graceful ease, chatting merrily the while with the little +girl, and laughing at her constant and matronly care of a large basket +which was placed beside her, neatly covered with a snowy napkin. "One +would think that there were diamonds in that basket, Nell, you guard it +so carefully," said he. +</p> + +<p> +"No, only nice pies mother gave me leave to take to Aunt Dilly Danforth, +the poor washerwoman," returned the little miss, again smoothing the +napkin and adjusting the basket in a new position. "I wish you would row +as carefully as you can, Neddie, so as not to jostle them much." +</p> + +<p> +"So I will, sis," returned he; "let's sing the Boatman's Song as we glide +along." And their voices rose on the calm summer air clear and sweet as +the morning song of birds. Now and then their light barge touched the +shore, and Ned plucked flowers to twine in Ellen's hair. O, that ever, +down life's uncertain tide, these innocent young spirits might float as +calmly, happily on to the broad ocean of eternity! +</p> + +<p> +"Is that the old shanty where Dilly lives?" said the lad at length, +pointing to a low black house, just beyond a clump of brushwood, which +they were swiftly approaching. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," said Ellen, gathering up her basket. +</p> + +<p> +"Here I must lose you, then," said Ned; "how I wish you would go fishing +with me down to the cove!" +</p> + +<p> +Ellen smiled. "Are you going to be all alone, Neddie?" asked she. +</p> + +<p> +"Nobody but Charlie Seaton will be with me. You like him." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, I like him well enough," said Ellen, innocently; "but I would not +care to go a-fishing with him." +</p> + +<p> +"Why not, sis?" inquired Ned. +</p> + +<p> +"Because it would not be pretty for a little girl to go fishing with +boys." +</p> + +<p> +"Ha, ha!" laughed the lad; "what a prudent little sis I have got! for all +the world like Amy Seaton. But I like Jenny Andrews better, she is so +full of fun and frolic. Did you know how she and Charlie Seaton robbed +old Mrs. Salsify Mumbles, one night not long since?" +</p> + +<p> +"O, no! robbed her? That was wrong, surely." +</p> + +<p> +"O, no! You see she nearly starved them, so they helped themselves to her +sweetmeats without invitation. That's all; not very wicked, I'm thinking, +Nell." +</p> + +<p> +"I think it was wicked for her not to give them enough food, and wicked +for them to take it without her knowledge," said Ellen, after a pause. +"But what did she say when she discovered her loss?" +</p> + +<p> +"Not a word. What could she say?" asked Ned. +</p> + +<p> +"I could not guess, and therefore inquired," said Ellen. "Will Jenny come +to school next term?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, Jenny, Amy and Charlie, and board at Dea. Allen's. That will be a +good place; only I fancy the deacon's long prayers and sober phiz will +prove a sad trial to Jenny. Well, you must go, sis," said he, pushing his +boat high up on the green, grassy bank, by a few skilful strokes of his +oar. Then assisting her out and placing the precious basket safely in her +arms, he was soon gliding down the smooth current again. Ellen directed +her steps toward the dilapidated dwelling a few yards before her, turning +frequently to catch a glimpse of her brother's little bark as it came in +view through some opening in the shrubbery that grew on the river's side. +</p> + +<p> +One timid rap brought Willie Danforth to the door. The poor boy looked +quite embarrassed to behold pretty, neat Ellen Williams standing there on +the miserable, dirty threshold. "Good day, Willie," said she, pleasantly; +"is your mother at home?" +</p> + +<p> +"No, miss, she is scrubbing floors at Mr. Pimble's," said Willie, +awkwardly enough. +</p> + +<p> +"O, I am sorry she is gone, for I wanted to see her very much. Will you +let me come in and leave this basket for her?" +</p> + +<p> +"O, yes!" answered the poor lad, "or I will carry it in for you." +</p> + +<p> +"I can carry it very well," said Ellen, "if you will only let me go in." +</p> + +<p> +"I would let you come in, Miss Ellen," returned Willie, "only I am afraid +it would frighten you to see such a sad, dirty place;" and the ragged +little fellow blushed crimson, as he thus revealed his poverty and +destitution. +</p> + +<p> +Ellen pitied his embarrassment, and said, "I should like to go in, +Willie, because, if I saw what you needed, I could tell mother, and she +would make you more comfortable, I know." +</p> + +<p> +The boy lifted the wooden latch of the inner room. The door opened with a +dismal creak, and Ellen entered. There was one old, broken-backed chair, +which he offered her, and sat down himself on a rough bench, with a +sorrowful, embarrassed expression on his pale, interesting features. +Ellen, still noticing Willie's painful confusion, knew not what to do +after placing her basket on the rude, wooden table, and began to regret +that she so strongly pressed an entrance. +</p> + +<p> +"I told you you would be frightened," said the boy at length, in a +choking tone. +</p> + +<p> +"O, I am not frightened!" returned Ellen, glad to speak now that he had +opened the way for her; "I am only sorry to find people living so +forlornly in our pretty, happy village. I thought you had a good nice +house to live in, for Mrs. Pimble said so, and that her husband rented it +to you for almost nothing, and that your mother—but I won't say any +more," said Ellen, stopping short in her discourse. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," said Willie, "tell me all she said, and then I will tell you +something." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, then, she said your mother only went out washing to make folks +think she was needy, so they would give her food and clothing. 'Twas +wicked for her to say it, surely." +</p> + +<p> +Willie's face grew pale as death, and then flushed crimson to the +temples. +</p> + +<p> +"Don't look so," said Ellen, approaching the bench and putting her little +hand on his hot cheeks. "O, Willie! you are sick and tired," she +continued, soothingly; "will you not lay your head down on my lap, and +tell me all about your troubles?" +</p> + +<p> +Willie's full heart overflowed. Those accents of kindness, so strange to +his ears, what a magic power they had! He leaned his dear bright head on +her soft little palm, and his low voice told in broken accents a tale of +want and suffering. Ellen wept, for her young heart was full of +tenderness and sympathy. The hours sped on, while they thus held +converse, till a hand on the latch aroused them. 'Twas Dilly returned +from her day's work at Mr. Pimble's. Willie sprang up to meet her. "O, +mother!" said he, "a sweet angel has come since you left me, this +morning, crying because I was so hungry." +</p> + +<p> +"Alas, my boy!" said the woman, "I fear you must still go hungry, for I +have brought you nothing. Mr. Pimble says my week's work must go for +rent." +</p> + +<p> +Now was Ellen's moment of joy, as she bounded across the broken floor and +lifted the napkin from her basket. "No, no, Willie,—no, no, Aunt Dilly, +you shall not go hungry to bed to-night. Look what mother has sent you! +How thoughtless of me not to have remembered my basket before, when +Willie has been suffering from hunger all these long, long hours!" +</p> + +<p> +"O, no! I have not thought of being hungry since you came," said the boy. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Danforth approached the basket and gazed on its contents with +tearful eyes. She had not seen the like on her table for many a day, and, +dropping on her knees, she breathed a silent prayer to God for his +goodness in putting it into the hearts of his children to remember her in +her need! Willie brought forth a small bundle of sticks and lighted a +fire, while Ellen ran and filled a black, broken-nosed tea-kettle, and +hung it on a hook over the blaze. It soon began to sing merrily, and the +children laughed and said it had caught some of their happiness. Then +Ellen took some tea from the paper her mother had wrapped so nicely, put +it in a cracked blue bowl, and Willie fixed a bed of coals for her to set +it on. Dilly sat all the while gazing with tearful eyes on the two +beaming faces which were constantly turned up to hers, to see if she gave +her approval to their movements. At length the repast was prepared, and, +after partaking with them, as Mrs. Danforth insisted upon her doing, +Ellen set out for home, with Willie by her side. He hesitated some at +first, when his mother told him he must accompany her, for his jacket was +ragged and his shoes out at the toes. But when Ellen said so +reproachfully he was "too bad, too bad, to make her go all the way home +alone," he brightened, and said "he would be very glad to go with her if +she would not be ashamed of him." So they set out together, each holding +a handle of the basket; Ellen bidding Aunt Dilly a cordial good-by, and +promising to come soon again and bring her mother. They met Mr. Pimble on +their way, who scowled and passed by in silence. +</p> + +<p> +Ellen found her mother anxiously waiting her return. She heard with +pleasure and interest her little daughter's animated description of her +visit; but when she said she had promised to visit Aunt Dilly soon again, +and take her mother with her, Mrs. Williams looked sad. +</p> + +<p> +"What makes you look so, dear mamma?" said Ellen; "will you not go and +see poor Dilly?" +</p> + +<p> +"I shall be very glad to do so, my dear child," answered the fond mother, +"if it is possible. You know your father has often wished to remove to a +place where his skill in architecture might be employed to better +advantage, and an excellent opportunity now offers for him to dispose of +his situation here, and remove to a large city, where his services will +be in constant demand." +</p> + +<p> +"And I shall never see Willie Danforth again," said Ellen, bursting into +tears. +</p> + +<p> +Childhood is so simple and unaffected, ever expressing with innocent +confidence its dearest thought, and claiming sympathy! Mrs. Williams +tried long to comfort her little daughter, and at length succeeded by +holding out a prospect that she might some time return and visit her +early associates. Ned was consoled by the same prospect. But then, we +never know, when we leave a place, what changes may occur ere we revisit +its now familiar scenes. Mrs. Williams felt this truth more vividly than +her children. But few changes had marked their sunny years, and it never +occurred to their youthful minds but what Wimbledon as she was to-night +would be exactly the same should they return five or ten years hence. The +mother did not disturb this pleasant illusion, "for experience comes +quite soon enough to young hearts," she said, "and I'll not force her +unwelcome lessons upon my happy children." So Ned and Ellen, when it was +decided they should leave on the morrow, almost forgot the pangs of +departure from their rich, beautiful home, so intently were they dwelling +on the joy of returning and meeting their schoolmates and companions +after a period of separation. O, gay, light-hearted youth! What is there +in all life's after years, its gaudy pomp, its feverish flame, or +short-lived honors, that can atone for the loss of thy buoyant hopes, and +simple, trusting faith? +</p> + +<p> +Sad was poor Dilly Danforth when she heard of the sudden departure of the +benevolent Williams family, and bitterly she exclaimed, "No good thing is +long vouchsafed the poor. Our poverty will only seem the darker now for +having been brightened for a transient hour." +</p> + +<p> +Willie, who had returned from his walk with Ellen with severe pains in +his limbs and head, fell sick of a rheumatic fever, and suffered much for +the want of warm clothing, care and medical treatment. O, how often he +thought of Ellen! "If she were there he would not suffer thus. She would +be warmth, care, clothing and physician for him." +</p> + +<p> +His mother was obliged to labor every day to procure fuel for the fire; +and to warm the great, cold room, where the piercing autumn blasts blew +through wide gaping cracks and chasms, and get a bottle of wormwood +occasionally, with which to bathe his aching limbs, was the utmost her +efforts could accomplish. With this insufficient care, 'twas no wonder +Willie grew rapidly worse. One bitter cold night Dilly sat down utterly +discouraged as she placed the last stick of wood on the fire. Her boy had +been so ill for several days she could not leave him to go to her +accustomed labor, and consequently the small pile of fuel was consumed. +What was she to do? Willie was already crying of cold, and she sat over +the expiring blaze crying because she had naught to render him +comfortable. After a while he grew silent, and, softly approaching, she +found he had sunk into a quiet slumber. Carefully covering him with the +thin, tattered blankets, she pinned a shawl over her head, and, softly +closing the door behind her, stole forth into the biting night air, and +directed a hasty tread toward Mr. Pimble's great brick mansion. A bright +light gleamed through the kitchen windows as she ascended the steps and +gave a hurried knock. Directly she heard a shuffling sound, and knew Mr. +Pimble, in his heelless slippers, was approaching. Fast beat her heart as +the door opened, and she beheld his gaunt form and unyielding features. +</p> + +<p> +"What brings you here this bitter cold night, Dilly Danforth?" exclaimed +he, in a surly tone, as the furious blast rushed in his face, and nearly +extinguished the lamp he held in his skinny grasp. +</p> + +<p> +She stepped inside, and he closed the door. +</p> + +<p> +"'Tis the bitter cold night which brings me, Mr. Pimble," she said, +feeling she must speak quickly, for Willie was at home alone; "my boy is +sick and suffering from cold. For myself, I would not ask a favor, but +for him I entreat you to give me an armful of wood to keep him from +perishing." +</p> + +<p> +"Why don't you work and buy your wood?" asked he, angered by this sudden +demand upon his charity. +</p> + +<p> +"I worked as long as I could leave my child," answered Mrs. Danforth, +"and I thought maybe you would be willing to allow me something for my +work here." +</p> + +<p> +"Allow you something, woman? Don't I give you the rent of that great +house for the few light chores you do for us, which really amount to +nothing? Your impudence is astonishing;" and Esq. Pimble's voice quivered +with rage, as he thus addressed the trembling woman. +</p> + +<p> +Dilly stood irresolute, and Mr. Pimble was silent a few moments, when a +voice from the parlor called out, imperiously, "Pimble, I want you!" +</p> + +<p> +The man roused himself and rushed to the door in such haste as to lose +both his slippers. +</p> + +<p> +"What are you blabbing about out there?" Dilly heard Mrs. Pimble ask, in +an angry tone. +</p> + +<p> +"Dilly Danforth has come for some wood," was the moody reply. +</p> + +<p> +"And so you are giving wood to that lazy, foolish, stupid creature, are +you?" +</p> + +<p> +"No, I am not. She says her boy is sick and she has no fire." +</p> + +<p> +"A pretty tale, and I hope 'tis true. She'll learn by and by her sin and +folly. If she had asserted her own rights, as she should have done, and +left her drunken husband and moping boy years ago, she might have been +well off in the world by this time. But she chose like an idiot to live +with him and endure his abuses till he died, and since she has tied +herself to that foolish boy. O, I have no patience with such stupid +women! They are a disgrace to the true female race. Go and tell her to go +home and never enter my doors a-begging again." +</p> + +<p> +Dilly did not wait to receive this unfeeling message, but pulled her thin +blanket around her, and stole out in the chill night air, and ran toward +home as swiftly as possible. She stumbled over something on the +threshold. It was a bundle of firewood. How came it there? She could not +tell, but seized it in her arms, ran hastily in, and approached Willie's +bed-side. He was still sleeping tranquilly, and that night a comfortable +fire, lighted by unknown generosity, blazed on the lowly hearth. +</p> + + + + +<p class="chapter"> +CHAPTER V. +</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2">"There is a jarring discord in my ear,</p> +<p class="i2">It setteth all my soul ashake with fear,</p> +<p class="i2">Good sir, canst drive it off?"——</p></div></div> + +<p class="mid"> +<span class="sc">Old Play.</span> +</p><br> + + +<p> +All Wimbledon was aroused one cold November morning by a direful +conglomeration of sounds;—strange, discordant shrieks, ominous groans, +a clanking, as of iron chains and fetters, a slow, heavy, elephantine +tread gradually growing on the ear, and a deep, continuous rumbling as of +earthquakes in the bowels of the earth. Mrs. Salsify Mumbles, nervous and +delicate as she was, clung fast to the neck of her liege lord when he +attempted to throw open the sash of his window, to discover the import of +this unusual disturbance of the nocturnal stillness of Wimbledon. Good +Deacon Allen, who was lying on his deaf ear, became restless, and visions +of the final retribution and doom of the wicked harassed his slumbers. +Suddenly he awoke, and dismal groans and unearthly rumblings struck his +terrified ear. "Sally! Sally!" said he, leaping from bed and giving his +sleeping spouse a vigorous shake, "why sleepest thou? arise and don thy +drab camlet and high-crowned cap, and prepare to meet thy Lord; for +behold he cometh!" +</p> + +<p> +"Samuel," said the good wife but half awake, "you are prating in your +sleep. Return to your pillow and be quiet till day-break." +</p> + +<p> +"You speak like a foolish virgin, Sally," returned the excited deacon. +"Do you not hear the roaring of the resurrection thunder and the wailings +of the wicked?" +</p> + +<p> +"I do hear something," said Mrs. Allen, now poking her night-capped head +from beneath the blankets, and listening a moment attentively. "'Tis a +sound of heavy carts drawn by oxen over frozen ground. Ay, I guess it is +the new family, that bought out neighbor Williams, moving their goods. +Just look out the window,—our yards join,—and see if there is not a +stir there." The deacon obeyed. +</p> + +<p> +"O, yes," said he, "I can distinguish several loaded teams and dusky +figures moving to and fro." +</p> + +<p> +"I thought 'twas the new-comers," returned the wife, who possessed more +ready wit and shrewdness than her amiable consort, and, withal, could +hear vastly better. "You had better come to bed again, Samuel;—'tis an +hour to daylight." +</p> + +<p> +"I cannot get to sleep again, I have been so disturbed," said the +husband, fidgetting round in the dark room to find his clothes. +</p> + +<p> +"O, pshaw!—put your deaf ear up and you'll soon fall off," answered the +wife, drawing the covering over her head. Deacon Allen, who had a very +high opinion of his wife's good sense, concluded to follow her advice, +and the happy couple were soon enjoying as pleasant a morning snooze, as +though neither the resurrection nor the "new family" had disturbed their +slumbers. +</p> + +<p> +Jenny Andrews and Amy Seaton, who slept in the room above, never heard a +sound, nor did Charlie in his cosey chamber beyond, and great was the +astonishment of the young people, on opening their casements, to behold +the long line of heavy-loaded teams drawn up in the yard of the splendid +mansion which stood next above Dea. Allen's, the former residence of Esq. +Williams. Teamsters in blue frocks were unfastening the smoking oxen from +the ponderous carts, and as the girls hurried below to impart the +intelligence of the arrival of the new family to Mrs. Allen, they heard +the voice of Mrs. Salsify Mumbles, and entering the sitting-room found +that lady laying aside her bonnet and shawl. Mary Madeline was standing +by the window gazing into the adjoining yard. Jenny and Amy had not seen +their former boarding mistress since they left her house at the close of +the summer term, several months before. But she was so elate about the +arrival of the new family that all memory of their former ill-usage +seemed to have escaped her, and she grasped the hands of both and shook +them cordially. "I am glad to see you," she exclaimed; "why have you not +called on us this fall? Mary Madeline has often said I wish Jenny and Amy +would come in, it would seem so much like old times. Here, my dear," said +she, seizing hold of the young lady's shawl and pulling her from the +window, "don't be so taken up with the new family that you can't speak to +your old friends." Mary Madeline now turned and spoke to her former +schoolmates. Then, drawing a chair close to the window, she resumed her +gaze, with her gloves and handkerchief lying unheeded on the floor and +her gay shawl dragging behind her. "O, mother! mother!" she exclaimed at +length, "there comes the family." +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Salsify, who was engaged in telling Mrs. Allen of Mr. Salsify's +prosperity, and how he was "rising in his profession," and how he +meditated adding another story to his house and putting a piazza round it +next spring, dropped all, even her snuff-box, and rushed to the window as +a large covered wagon, drawn by a span of elegant black horses, drove +rapidly into the adjoining yard. First alighted a tall man in a black +overcoat,—the master no doubt, the gazers decided,—then a tall man in a +gray overcoat, then a tall man in a brown overcoat. And the man in the +black overcoat and the man in the gray overcoat moved away, the former up +the steps of the mansion and around the terraces, trying the fastenings +of the Venetian blinds, and examining the cornices and pillars of the +porticos; the latter turned in the direction of the stables and +outhouses, while the man in the brown overcoat assisted three ladies to +alight, all grown-up women, one short and fat, the other two tall and +thin. The gazers were a little puzzled by the appearance of the new +family. As far as they could discover there was no great difference in +the respective ages of the six individuals who had alighted from the +wagon, and Mrs. Salsify Mumbles declared it as her opinion that the +family consisted of three brothers who had married three sisters for +their wives. The short, fat woman, who had a rubicund visage and +turned-up nose, and wore a broad-plaided cashmere dress, drew forth a +bunch of keys from a wicker basket that hung on her arm, and with a +pompous tread ascended the marble steps, unlocked the broad, +mahogany-panelled door, turned the massive silver knob, and, swinging it +wide, strode in, the tall ladies in blue cloaks following close behind. +Soon sashes began to be raised, blinds flew open, and the tall ladies +were seen standing on high chairs hanging curtains of rich damask and +exquisitely wrought muslin, before the deep bay windows. The three tall +men threw off their overcoats, and, with the assistance of the +blue-frocked teamsters, commenced the business of unlading the carts. +</p> + +<p> +"All the furniture is bagged," said Mrs. Salsify, impatiently; "one +cannot get a glimpse to know whether 'tis walnut, or rosewood, or +mahogany. They mean to make us think 'tis pretty nice, whether 'tis or +not; but we shall find out some time, for they can't always be so shy. +Well, Mary Madeline," she added, turning to her daughter, "we may as well +go home, I guess;—there's nothing to be seen here but chairs and sofas +sewed up in canvas. I thought I would run over a few minutes, Mrs. Allen, +as I knew your windows looked right into the yard of the new comers, and +we could get a good view. Of course, we wanted to know what sort of folks +we were going to have for neighbors. I hope they'll be different from the +Williams'." +</p> + +<p> +"Why?" asked Mrs. Allen, looking up from the brown patch she was engaged +in sewing on the elbow of the deacon's black satinet coat. "I only hope +they will prove as good neighbors and I will be perfectly satisfied." +</p> + +<p> +"O, I don't know but what the Williams' were good enough, but they were +too exclusive, too aristocratic for me. Mrs. W. never thought Mary +Madeline fit for her Ellen to associate with." +</p> + +<p> +"How do you know she thought so?" asked Mrs. Allen; "for my part, I lived +Mrs. Williams' nearest neighbor for ten years or more, and always +considered her a very kind-hearted, unassuming woman, wholly untainted +with the pride and haughtiness which too often disfigure the characters +of those who possess large store of this world's goods and move in the +upper circles." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, you were more acquainted with Mrs. Williams than I was, of course; +but she was not the kind of woman to suit my taste. There's Mrs. Pimble +and Mrs. Lawson now, both rich and splendid, keep their carriages and +servants, but they are not above speaking to common people." +</p> + +<p> +"I am not personally acquainted with those ladies," answered Mrs. Allen. +</p> + +<p> +"They are reformers," said Mrs. Mumbles, in a reverential tone; "you +should hear their awful speeches. Daniel Webster could never equal them, +folks tell me." +</p> + +<p> +"I have understood that they belonged to the fanatical class of female +lecturers that have arisen in our country within the last few years." +</p> + +<p> +"O, they hold conventions everywhere, and such terrible gesticulations as +they pronounce against the tyranny and oppression of the female sex by +the monster man!" said Mrs. Salsify. "I declare I wish they would have +one of their indignation meetings here, for I think the men are getting +the upper hand among us." +</p> + +<p> +"Doubtless you would join their ranks should they do so," observed Mrs. +Allen, with a quiet smile, as she arose, gave the deacon's coat a shake, +and hung it on a peg behind the door. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, I don't know but I should," returned Mrs. S.; "but come, Maddie, +how we are wasting time! I declare, two carts are already unloaded, and +there goes the seminary bell. 'Tis nine o'clock." Jenny, Amy and Charlie, +ran down stairs all equipped for school, as Mrs. Mumbles and her daughter +stepped into the hall, and all went forth together. Mrs. M. repeated her +invitation for the young ladies and Charlie to visit her, and the girls +laughingly promised to do so at their first leisure. Mary Madeline went +to Edson's store on an errand, and her mother proceeded directly home. +Great was her anger to behold the back kitchen door swinging wide. She +shut it behind her with a slam, muttering some impatient exclamation +about Mr. Salsify's stupid carelessness. As she stood by the stove +warming her chilled fingers, a noise from the pantry startled her ears, +and, opening the door, she beheld the great, shaggy watch-dog, that +belonged to the store of Edson & Co., lying on his haunches with a nice +fat pullet between his paws, which he was devouring with evident relish +and gusto. He turned his head towards her, uttered a low growl, and went +on with his breakfast again. Mrs. Salsify looked up to a peg on which she +had hung six nicely-dressed chickens the night before. Alas! the last one +was between the bloody devourer's paws. She glanced toward a pot she had +left full of cream, under the shelves. It was empty; and toward her +rolling-board, where she had left a pan of rich pie-crust, with which she +was intending to cover her thanksgiving pies. All had disappeared. She +trembled with rage. +</p> + +<p> +"Get out, you thievish rascal!" she exclaimed, bringing her foot +violently to the floor. +</p> + +<p> +The dog sprang toward her, and, seizing the skirt of her gay-striped, +bombazine dress with his glistening ivories, rent it from the waist, flew +through the parlor window, and rushed through streets, by-lanes and +alleys, rending the flaring fabric, and dragging it through mud-holes +till it looked like some fiery-colored flag borne away by the enemy in +disgrace. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Salsify rushed down into her husband's shop in awful plight, her +hair standing on end, and her great, green eyes almost starting from +their sockets. Mr. Salsify looked with amazement on his lady, as did also +the half-score of customers that stood around his counters. Her +saffron-colored skirt was rent in divers places, revealing the black one +she wore beneath, and the gay-striped waist she still wore was hung round +with ragged fragments of the vanished skirt. +</p> + +<p> +"Lord, love us, what is the matter?" exclaimed Mr. Salsify, rushing +toward his wife. +</p> + +<p> +"Edson's dog has eat up six chickens, a cream-pot, a rolling-board, +pie-crust, and all!" exclaimed Mrs. Mumbles, with a frantic air, as she +fell into her husband's outstretched arms, wholly unmindful of the +laughter her appearance and words had excited among her good man's +customers. +</p> + +<p> +"Edson's dog,—how could he get into the house?" demanded Mr. Mumbles. +</p> + +<p> +"I saw him out with Dick Giblet, this morning, when he was leaving +packages," said little Joe Bowles, with a mischievous leer in his black +eyes. +</p> + +<p> +The husband and wife exchanged a glance. The whole truth flashed upon +them,—'twas a trick of Dick's. Mr. Salsify ordered his customers to +leave the shop, and locking the door, he led his terrified, trembling +wife up stairs, where they found Mary Madeline lying on the floor in a +fainting fit, with the fragments of her mother's skirt clenched tightly +in her cold hands. +</p> + + + + +<p class="chapter"> +CHAPTER VI. +</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>"Her face was fairer than face of earth;</p> +<p>What was the thing to liken it to?</p> +<p>A lily just dipped in the summer dew?</p> +<p>Parian marble—snow's first fall?</p> +<p>Her brow was fairer than each,—than all.</p> +<p>And so delicate was each vein's soft blue,</p> +<p>'Twas not like blood that wandered through.</p> +<p>Rarely upon that cheek was shed,</p> +<p>By health or by youth, one tinge of red,</p> +<p>And never closest look could descry,</p> +<p>In shine or shade, the hue of her eye,</p> +<p>But, as it were made of light, it changed</p> +<p>With every sunbeam that over it ranged."</p></div></div><br> + + +<p> +The midnight stars were over all the heaven, O, wildly, wildly bright! +Orion, like a flaming monarch, led up "the host of palpitating stars" to +their proud zenith, while, far in the boreal regions, danced strange, +atmospheric lights, with flitting, fantastic motions and ever-changing +forms and colors. A young girl stood in the deep recess of a large +window, with the rich, blue-wrought damask curtains wrapped closely about +her slight, fragile form, gazing intently on the splendors of the +midnight heaven. Long she stood there, and no sound broke the stillness, +save now and then a half-audible sigh. At length she said, "I cannot +endure this solitude and the depression which is stealing over me. Would +that I had a mother to love and bless me! Father is often so strange and +silent, and Rufus cannot sympathize with my feelings. I must call Sylva +to bear me company, for one of my nervous attacks is upon me, and I +cannot sleep." Softly opening a side-door, she said, in a voice scarcely +above a whisper, "Sylva, are you awake?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," was the answer; "what is your wish, Miss Edith?" +</p> + +<p> +"That you would come and sit with me a while." +</p> + +<p> +"What time is it!" +</p> + +<p> +"I know not; but, by the stars, it should be little after midnight." +</p> + +<p> +"Return to your room, and I will soon be there with a light," answered +the one called Sylva. +</p> + +<p> +The young girl did as requested, and sank down in a large arm-chair which +nearly concealed her in its soft cushions. Presently the small side-door +opened, and Sylva entered, bearing an astral lamp and a few light pieces +of kindling wood. +</p> + +<p> +"O, I don't mind a fire!" said Miss Edith. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, I do," answered the woman; "you would catch your death, up here +half the night with no fire." +</p> + +<p> +"'Tis a cold place we are come to, isn't it Sylva?" said the young lady, +springing from her chair and wrapping an elegant cashmere dressing-gown, +lined with azure satin, round her tall, delicate figure, and then again +sinking down among the soft velvet cushions of her spacious fauteuil. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, Miss Edith, it is, indeed," answered Sylva, as she lighted a bright +fire in the polished grate. "How your father expects to rear so fragile a +bud in this bleak region I do not know." +</p> + +<p> +"I have never seen him in such spirits as since we came here," returned +Edith, toying with the silken tassels of her rich robe. "You know he was +always so silent and reserved in our former home, Sylva. But sometimes I +fancy there is something unnatural in his manner. One moment he will +laugh wildly, and the next a dark frown will have gathered on his brow. +Twice he has caught me in his arms and said, 'Edith! Edith, you have a +part to play, and I rely on you to do it!' Then he would look on me so +sternly, I would burst into tears, and strive to free myself from his +embrace. What did he mean by such words, Sylva?" +</p> + +<p> +"Why, that you are coming on to the stage of action, and he desires you +to be educated and accomplished in a manner to adorn the high circles in +which you will move." +</p> + +<p> +"O, more than that, Sylva!" said Edith doubtfully; "he need not have +looked so stern, were that all; but still he is a kind, indulgent father +for the most part. I should not complain;" and the young girl relapsed +into thoughtful silence. The pale fire-light glowed on her delicate +features. One tiny white hand rested on the cushioned arm of the chair, +and the large, melancholy blue eyes were fixed on the glowing blaze +within the shining ebon grate. The profile was strictly Grecian in +outline, and the soft, silken hair fell in a shower of golden ripples +over her small, sloping shoulders. Her lips were vermilion red, and +disclosed two rows of tiny pearls whenever they parted with dimpling +smiles. +</p> + +<p> +"Have you become acquainted with any of the village people, Sylva?" asked +the fair girl, rousing at length from her reverie. +</p> + +<p> +"No, save this young Mrs. Edson, who called yesterday, I have seen no +one," returned the woman, "unless I mention that sunken-eyed washerwoman, +Dilly Danforth, as she is called." +</p> + +<p> +"O, I saw her on the steps one day! What a forlorn-looking creature she +is! I think she must be very poor. Still, it seems to me there should be +no poverty in this rich, happy-appearing village. I fancy it will be a +love of a place in summer, Sylva, when all the maples and lindens are in +leaf, and the numerous gardens in flower. O, when father took me out in +the new sleighing phaeton last week, I saw a most magnificent mansion, +grander than ours, even. The grounds seemed beautifully laid out, and +over the arching gateway I read the words 'Summer Home' sculptured in the +marble. It is closed at present, but when the occupants return in the +spring, I hope I shall get to know them, for I would dearly love to visit +at so delightful a place. Father said I should become acquainted with the +family. He knows their names, and I think said he had met the gentleman +once." Edith grew quite smiling and happy as she prattled on, forming +plans and diversions for the coming summer. Sylva listened to her +innocent conversation in respectful silence, and, after a while, as the +fire burned low, and the cocks began to crow from their neighboring +perches, the sweet girl ceased to speak. She had wearied herself and +fallen asleep. +</p> + +<p> +The sun was shining brightly through the blue damask curtains when she +awoke, and Sylva was bending over her, parting away the rich masses of +auburn curls which had fallen over her face as she leaned her head over +the arm of the chair. "Your father and Rufus are calling for you," said +the attendant pleasantly. +</p> + +<p> +"Why, how long I have slept!" said Edith, opening her blue eyes with a +wondering expression. "What o'clock is it, Sylva?" +</p> + +<p> +"It is half-past nine," answered the woman. +</p> + +<p> +"I have been dreaming the strangest dream about that beautiful mansion I +was telling you I saw in my ride the other day—that 'Summer Home,' as it +is so sweetly styled. I thought I saw a lovely young girl there, younger +than myself, but far more womanly in aspect, and she said she was my +cousin, and kissed me, and gave me rare flowers and delicious fruit. Did +you say father had called for me? Well, I'll dress and go down in the +parlor. What are you doing there, Sylva?" +</p> + +<p> +"Getting your muff and tippet," answered she. +</p> + +<p> +"Is father going to take me out?" asked Edith with animation. +</p> + +<p> +"Rufus is going to take you to church," said Sylva. "He said you +expressed a wish to go last Sabbath, but it was too cold. To-day is more +pleasant, and he is ready to attend you." +</p> + +<p> +"He is kind," said Edith. "Am I not a naughty girl to murmur when I have +a brother so good, and a father who loves me so dearly?" +</p> + +<p> +"You do not murmur, do you, Miss Edith?" +</p> + +<p> +"Sometimes I wish I had a mother, or that she had lived long enough to +leave her form and features impressed on my memory." +</p> + +<p> +A tear fell as the fair girl spoke thus, but she brushed it quickly away, +and commenced arraying herself for church. +</p> + +<p> +"I shall be delighted to behold the interior of that antiquated looking +building," remarked she, as Sylva placed the dainty hat over the +clustering curls; "and, besides, I can see all the village people, and +form some opinion of those who are henceforth to constitute our +associates and friends." +</p> + +<p> +"And all the people will see you, too," said Sylva, smiling. +</p> + +<p> +"O, I don't mind that!" answered Edith; "they would all see me, sooner or +later, as I'm to go to school, in the spring, at the white seminary on +the hill." +</p> + +<p> +Thus speaking, the beautiful girl descended to the drawing-room. A tall, +elegantly-proportioned man, with a magnificent head of raven black hair, +which hung in one dense mass of luxuriant curls all round his broad, +marble-like brow, and quite over his manly shoulders, was leaning in a +careless, graceful attitude against a splendid mahogany-cased piano, that +stood in the centre of the apartment, and moving his white, taper fingers +over the pearl-tipped keys, waking now rich bursts of song, and, anon, +dwelling long on deep, solemn notes, that pierced the soul with +melancholy. He did not move when the door opened, and Edith crossed the +room and stood beside him ere he noticed her presence. +</p> + +<p> +"Where is brother Rufus?" she asked, drawing on her tiny, lemon-colored +gloves. +</p> + +<p> +The gentleman turned and gazed down upon the fair speaker. The clear +complexion and soft blue eyes of the daughter were exact counterparts of +the father's; so were the rich red lips and pearly teeth. Their only +point of difference was in the color of the hair. "What do you want of +Rufus?" asked he, in a tone almost stern, after he had gazed on her +several moments in silence. She turned her speaking eyes upon his face, +and answered, "Sylva said he would take me to church." +</p> + +<p> +"To church!" said her father, now relaxing his features into a smile, +"what an odd fancy! And are you arrayed in this fine garb to attend +service in an old, dilapidated country church?" +</p> + +<p> +"Do you think me very finely-dressed?" said Edith, archly, as she for a +moment surveyed herself in the large mirror which hung from ceiling to +floor between the eastern windows. She wore a crimson velvet dress and +mantle, a muff and tippet of white ermine, and a chapeau of light blue +satin, with a long, drooping white plume. Her hair was gathered into +luxuriant masses of curls each side of her sweet face, and confined by +sprays of pearls and turquoises. +</p> + +<p> +Rufus now entered. He was very unlike his sister in personal appearance. +His hair was the color of his father's, but far less abundant, and +straight as an Indian's. Eyes and complexion were both dark, and his +countenance indicative of rather low intelligence, and weak intellectual +powers. The father looked on him as though he was not quite satisfied +with the son who was, probably, to perpetuate his name. +</p> + +<p> +"Are you ready, Edith?" asked the youth. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," she returned. He approached to give her his arm, and, as they were +passing out, Edith caught her father looking grimly on them, and said +quickly, "Do you mind our going to church, papa? We will stay at home if +you wish." +</p> + +<p> +"No, go along!" said he. "I'll not thwart you in so small a matter, and +hope I may never have occasion to in a greater!" Edith looked up in his +face as he uttered these last words. There was a dark shade flitting over +it. It haunted her all the while she was walking to church; but so many +things occupied her attention, after entering, it passed from her mind. +</p> + + + + +<p class="chapter"> +CHAPTER VII. +</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>"I fain would know why woman is outraged,</p> +<p>And trampled in the very dust by man,</p> +<p>Who vaunts himself the lord of all the earth,</p> +<p>And e'en the mighty realms of sea and air."</p></div></div><br> + + +<p> +Winter was passing away, and Wimbledon was making but slow progress +toward the better knowledge of the new family that had come among them. +The silver plate on the hall door announced the master's name as Col. J. +Corydon Malcome, a sounding appellation enough; and he was often seen +walking up and down the streets in his rich, fur-lined overcoat and laced +velvet cap, placed with a courtly air over his cloud of ebon curls. He +was known to be a widower, and the woful extravagancies into which Mary +Madeline Mumbles cajoled her doting mother, were enough to make one +shudder in relating. Wimbledon was ransacked for the gayest taffetas, the +jauntiest bonnets, and broadest Dutch lace, till, at length, poor Mr. +Salsify went to his wife with a doleful countenance, and told her he +could never "rise in his profession" as long as she upheld Madeline in +such whimsical extravagance. Mrs. Salsify looked lofty, and tossed her +carroty head; but her husband had waxed bold in his distress, and could +not be intimidated by ireful brows, or pursed-up lips. So he proceeded to +free his mind on this wise: "As for Mary Madeline's ever catching that +haughty, black-headed Col. Malcome, I know better; she can't do it, and I +would much rather have her marry Theophilus Shaw, who is a steady, modest +shoemaker. He makes good wages, and can maintain a wife comfortably, and +would treat her well; which is more than I would trust that +murderous-looking colonel to do." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, you will have your own way, I suppose," said Mrs. S., putting on +an injured expression. "I see it is about as Mrs. Pimble and the +sisterhood tell me. Men are all a set of tyrants, and the women are their +slaves." +</p> + +<p> +"Come, come, wife!" said Mr. Salsify, impatiently; "pray, don't get any +of those foolish notions in your head. Depend upon it, nothing could so +effectually put a stop to my 'rising in my profession.' The piazza and +second story could never be built, if you neglected your home affairs, +and went cantering about the country, like those evil-spirited women, +turning everything topsy-turvy, and mocking at all law and order; but I +know my wife has a mind too delicate and feminine to commit such bold, +masculine actions." +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Mumbles had chosen the right weapon with which to combat his wife's +inclinations toward the Woman's Rights mania. A love of flattery was her +weak point. It is with half her sex. We too often say, by way of +expressing our disapproval of a certain man, "O, he is a gross +flatterer!" thus very frequently condemning the quality we most admire in +him;—or, if not the one we most admire, at least the one which affords +us most pleasure and gratification when in his society. But to our tale: +</p> + +<p> +On a certain blustering January day, a sleigh, containing two ladies and +a gentleman, drove to the door of Col. Malcome's elegant mansion, and +were ushered into the spacious drawing-room by the blooming-visaged +housekeeper. Col. Malcome arose from the luxurious sofa on which he had +been reclining among a profusion of costly furs, and received his +visitors with an air of courtly magnificence, which might have had the +effect to intimidate a modest, retiring female; but not king Solomon in +all his glory could intimidate or abash Mrs. Judith Justitia Pimble, or +Mrs. Rebecca Potentia Lawson. As for poor, insignificant Peter Pimble, he +looked quite aghast with terror and astonishment at his own temerity in +penetrating to a presence so imposing and sublime, and cuddled away in +the most obscure corner he could find, while his majestic wife assumed a +velvet-cushioned arm-chair, which stood beside a marble table. +</p> + +<p> +"Perhaps you do not know our names?" said Mrs. Pimble, bending a sharp +glance on Col. Malcome from beneath her shaggy brows. +</p> + +<p> +"I certainly have not that pleasure, madam," answered the colonel, with a +graceful bow. +</p> + +<p> +"I do not like that style of address," said Mrs. Lawson, arising from the +ottoman on which she had been sitting, with her broad, white palms +extended to the warmth of the glowing grate, and throwing her stately +form upon a crimson sofa; "it is a fawning, affected, puppyish manner, +which men assume when speaking to women, as if they were not capable of +understanding and appreciating a plain, common-sense mode of address." +</p> + +<p> +"Ah, yes!" said Mrs. Pimble, "man has so long reigned a tyrant of +absolute sway, that centuries will pass, I fear, before he is dethroned, +and woman elevated to her proper stand among the nations of the earth." +</p> + +<p> +Here she tossed her bonnet on the table, smoothed her bushy hair, and, +drawing a red bandanna from her pocket, gave her long nose a vigorous +rub, and settled herself in her soft chair again. Col. Malcome sat bolt +upright among the furs which were piled up around him, and stared at his +visitors. Yes, refined and polite though he was, he forgot his +good-breeding in surprise at the coarse, singular manners of his +involuntary guests. The figure in the extreme corner of the apartment at +length attracted his notice, and placing a chair in proximity to the +fire, he said, "Will you not be seated, sir?" +</p> + +<p> +The muffled shape moved, but the brawny lady in the rocking-chair spoke, +and it was still again. +</p> + +<p> +"O, Pimble can stand, Mr. Malcome," she said, "that's his name, and mine +is Mrs. Judith Justitia Pimble, author of tracts for the amelioration of +enslaved and down-trodden woman; and this is Mrs. Rebecca Potentia +Lawson, my sister and co-operater in the work of reform." +</p> + +<p> +Col. Malcome bowed; but, recollecting the rebuff one brief remark of his +had received, remained silent. +</p> + +<p> +"The object of our visit," said Mrs. Lawson, "is to see and confer with +the ladies of your household." +</p> + +<p> +"Begging your pardon," said the colonel, "my family contains but one +lady." +</p> + +<p> +"Ah, the one we met at the door, then?" remarked Mrs. Pimble. +</p> + +<p> +"No, madam; that was my housekeeper," returned the colonel. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, what do you call <i>her</i>?" asked Mrs. Lawson. +</p> + +<p> +"My housekeeper, madam, as I have just informed you." +</p> + +<p> +"She has no other name, I suppose?" said Mrs. Pimble, in a loud, ironical +tone; "she is to you a housekeeper, as a horse is a horse, or a cow a +cow;—not a woman"—— +</p> + +<p> +"O, yes! a woman, certainly," interrupted the colonel. +</p> + +<p> +"A woman, but not a lady?" continued Mrs. Pimble. +</p> + +<p> +The gentleman bowed as if he felt himself understood. "Well, sir," said +Mrs. Lawson, peering on him through her green glasses, "will you please +to inform us of the difference between a woman and a lady?" +</p> + +<p> +Col. Malcome, who loved the satirical, had a mind to apply it here, but +his politeness restrained him, and he merely remarked, "In a general +sense, none: in a particular, very great." +</p> + +<p> +"That is, in <i>your</i> opinion," said Mrs. Pimble. "Now let me tell you +there is no difference, whatever. The wide world over, every woman is a +lady—(the colonel hemmed,)—every woman is a lady," repeated Mrs. P., +"and every lady is a woman." +</p> + +<p> +"That is, in <i>your</i> opinion?" remarked Col. Malcome. +</p> + +<p> +"In every sensible person's opinion." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, sister Justitia," said Mrs. Lawson, drawing forth a massive silver +watch, by a steel fob-chain; "we are wasting time. There's but an hour to +the lecture, and we have several miles to ride. Let us state the object +of our visit in a form suited to this man's comprehension." +</p> + +<p> +The colonel felt rather small, on hearing this depreciation of his +intellectual powers, but said nothing. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, make the statement, sister Potentia," said Mrs. Pimble, folding +her brawny arms over her capacious chest, and giving a loud, masculine +ahem. +</p> + +<p> +"Mr. Malcome, we would like to see the female portion of your household," +said Mrs. Lawson, in a slow, measured tone, with an emphasis on every +word. +</p> + +<p> +As the colonel, indignant at the coarse vulgarity of the intruders, was +about to reply in the negative—the door opened, and Edith entered, +accompanied by Sylva, who led a small, white Spanish poodle by a silver +cord. The little animal capered gracefully about, cutting all sorts of +cunning antics, much to the amusement of the young girl, till at length +discovering the muffled shape of Pimble behind the door, he ran up to +him, smelt at his clothes, and commenced a furious barking. +</p> + +<p> +"You had better go out doors, Pimble," said his wife; "you are so +contemptible a thing even insignificant curs yelp at your heels." +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Lawson laughed loudly at this witty speech, and the poor man was +about disappearing outside the door, when Col. Malcome prevented his exit +by bidding him be seated, and ordering Sylva to drive Fido from the room. +Quiet being restored, and Mr. Pimble having ventured to drop tremblingly +on the extreme edge of the chair offered for his comfort and convenience, +Col. Malcome said, "You wished to see the female portion of my +household:—here are two of them; my daughter and her attendant." +</p> + +<p> +"Her attendant!" remarked Mrs. Lawson, "I do not know as I exactly +understand the signification of that term, as applied by you in the +present instance." +</p> + +<p> +"Her waiting-woman, then," answered the colonel, "if that is a plainer +term." +</p> + +<p> +"Ay, yes; her waiting-woman," resumed Mrs. L. "Well, your daughter looks +rather puny and sickly. She needs exercise in the open air, I should +say,—narrow-chested,—comes from a consumptive family on the mother's +side?" +</p> + +<p> +"Madam," said Col. Malcome, with a sudden anger in his tone and manner, +"I don't know as it is any business of yours, from what family my +daughter comes." +</p> + +<p> +"O, no particular business," continued Mrs. Lawson, with undisturbed +equanimity; "I only judged her to come of a consumptive race by her face +and form. Public speaking would be an excellent remedy for her weakly +appearance. That enlarges the lungs, and creates confidence and reliance +on one's own powers. Miss Malcome, would you not like to attend some of +our lectures and reform clubs?" +</p> + +<p> +"I don't know," answered Edith, tremblingly. "I think I would if father +is willing;" and she turned her sweet blue eyes up to his face, as if to +read there her permission or refusal. +</p> + +<p> +"A slave to parental authority, I see," remarked Mrs. Pimble; "but this +lady, grown to years of maturity; she, surely, should have a mind of her +own. Don't you think woman is made a galley-slave by the tyrant man?" she +demanded, turning her discourse on Sylva, who looked confused, as if she +did not quite understand the speech addressed to her. At length, she +asked timidly, "What woman do you refer to, madam?" "To all women upon +the face of the earth!" returned Mrs. Pimble, vehemently. "Are they not +loaded with chains and fetters, and crushed down in filthy mire and dirt +by self-inflated, tyrannizing man?" +</p> + +<p> +"O, no!" answered Sylva, innocently; "no man ever put a chain on me, or +on any woman of my acquaintance, or ever pushed one down in the dirt." +</p> + +<p> +"Poor fool!" exclaimed Mrs. Pimble, with great indignation; "you are +grovelling in the mire of ignorance, and man's foot is on your neck to +hold you there." +</p> + +<p> +The figure that trembled on the edge of the chair was now heard calling +faintly, "Mrs. Pimble—Mrs. Pimble." +</p> + +<p> +"Pimble speaks, sister Justitia," said Mrs. Lawson. +</p> + +<p> +"What do you want?" asked the lady, turning sharply round. +</p> + +<p> +"'Tis four o'clock, ma'am," gasped he. +</p> + +<p> +"Four o'clock! didn't I tell you I wished to be at the lecture-room at +that hour?" +</p> + +<p> +"I didn't like to interrupt you," he answered feebly. +</p> + +<p> +"What a fool of a man!" exclaimed the enraged wife. "Bring the sleigh to +the door, instanter;" and Pimble rushed out, the ladies following close +on his heels, vociferating at the top of their voices, without even a +parting salutation to the family they had been visiting. +</p> + + + + +<p class="chapter"> +CHAPTER VIII. +</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>"It is a hermit.</p> +<p class="i12">Well, methinks I've read</p> +<p>In romance tales of such strange beings oft;</p> +<p>But surely ne'er did think these eyes should see</p> +<p>The living, breathing, walking counterpart.</p> +<p>Canst tell me where he dwells?</p> +<p class="i18">Far in the woods,</p> +<p>In a lone hut, apart from all his kind."</p></div></div> + + +<p class="mid"> +<span class="sc">Old Play</span>. +</p><br> + + +<p> +The pale moonbeams peeped through the rents and crevices of Dilly +Danforth's wretched abode, as the poor woman sat on the hearth with +Willie's head lying in her lap, while he read by the flickering +fire-light from the pages of a well-worn Bible. The little fellow had +never fully recovered from that long, painful illness that had nearly +cost him his life, and from which it is very possible he would never +have arisen but for those little bundles of firewood that were so +providentially laid on poor Dilly's threshold, by some charitable, though +unknown, hand. They still continued to be placed there, and it was well +they were so, for Mrs. Danforth's health had failed so much she was not +able to perform half her former amount of labor; and had it not been for +these small armfuls of fuel, which very much resembled those Willie used +to collect, the washerwoman and her boy must have perished during the +long, cold winter season. Yes, perished in the very midst of Wimbledon; +within a stone's throw of many a well-filled woodyard, and under the nose +of a Mrs. Pimble's philanthropic efforts for the amelioration of her +species. Dilly's neglect on the part of the many arose, not so much from +inhumanity and covetousness, as from a wrong bias, which a few words had +created in the people's minds. A report had passed through the village, +several months before, purporting to come from a reliable source, which +represented Mrs. Danforth as not so poor as she appeared; that she +assumed her poverty-stricken garb and appearance to excite sympathy, and +thus swindle, in a small way, from the purses of her wealthy neighbors. +There is nothing of which people have a greater horror than of being +humbugged, if they know it; so, for the most part, the Wimbledonians +turned a deaf ear and cold shoulder on the washerwoman's sorrowful +supplications for charity. Little Edith Malcome pitied the pale, sad face +that appeared at the kitchen door every Monday morning, and always asked +her father's permission to give her a basket of victuals to carry home, +which were always received with many grateful expressions by the poor +woman. +</p> + +<p> +Edith sat by the drawing-room window, one bleak, stormy winter morning, +watching the snow as it fell silently to the earth, when a man of +singular appearance, walking slowly along the opposite side of the +street, attracted her notice. +</p> + +<p> +"O, father!" exclaimed she quickly, "come here; the oddest-looking man is +going past." +</p> + +<p> +Col. Malcome rose from his seat by the fire and approached the window. +"What a disgusting appearance he presents!" said he, gazing on the +slowly-receding figure. "It angers me to see a man degrade himself by +such uncouth apparel." +</p> + +<p> +"O, not disgusting! is he, father?" said Edith, "only odd and droll; and +his face looked so pale and mild, I thought it really pretty. If he only +wouldn't wear that short-waisted, long-tailed coat, with those funny +little capes on the shoulders, and leave off that great tall-crowned hat +with its broad, slouching brim, and have a little cane instead of that +long pole he carries in his hand, he would be quite a pretty man,—don't +you think so, father?" +</p> + +<p> +"Well, really I don't know how he might look were he thus transformed," +answered Col. Malcome. "I only expressed my opinion of his present +appearance." +</p> + +<p> +"Don't you know who he is?" asked Edith. +</p> + +<p> +"No," said her father, returning to his seat. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, I wish you would try and learn his name," pursued the fair girl. +</p> + +<p> +"What for?" asked Col. M., resuming the perusal of the volume he had left +to obey her summons to the window. +</p> + +<p> +"Because I would like to know it," returned she. "I fancy he is some +relation of that pale Dilly Danforth's, for he has just such mournful +eyes." +</p> + +<p> +"I do not wish to see them then," said her father, with some impatience +of manner, "for I don't like the expression of that woman's eyes." +</p> + +<p> +"They are very sad," said Edith, "but sorrow has made them so. I think +they were once very beautiful. But won't you learn this strange man's +name? Perhaps he is very poor, and we could alleviate his wants by kind +charities." +</p> + +<p> +"No," answered Col. M. in a tone which dismissed the subject; "I cannot +run about the country to hunt up old stragglers for you to bestow alms +upon." +</p> + +<p> +Edith looked on her father's stern brow, and, feeling it was useless to +urge her plea any longer, stole away to her own apartment, where she +found Sylva engaged in feeding her canaries and furnishing them with +fresh water. The little bright creatures were singing sweetly, but Edith +did not heed their songs. She stood apart by a window, and gazed out on +the falling snowflakes. At length she saw Rufus enter the yard, and soon +heard him ascending the stairs. "Where have you been, brother?" she +asked, as he came in, his face reddened by exposure to the cold, biting +atmosphere. +</p> + +<p> +"Down on the river, skating with some of the village boys," answered he, +drawing a chair close to the glowing fire; "and O, such a fine time as we +had! I shall be glad when we go to school, Edith; it will be so much more +lively and pleasant." +</p> + +<p> +"I shall be glad when the snow is gone, so I can run out doors, and sow +my flower-beds," returned Edith, thoughtfully. Then she sat gazing in the +fire a long time, as was always her wont when thinking deeply on any +subject. Sylva had finished her care of the birds, and brought forth Fido +from his little cot-bed in her room. He sprang into Edith's lap, then +into Rufus', kissing their cheeks and evincing his joy at beholding them +in various pleasing, expressive ways. But Edith pushed him away and told +Sylva to put him to bed again. So the brisk little fellow was carried +off, looking very sorry, and wailing piteously, as if he pleaded +permission to remain by the warm fire. +</p> + +<p> +Rufus was younger than his sister, and of an intelligence and refinement +so far below hers, that she seldom evinced much pleasure or enjoyment in +his society, but she looked towards him now with an eager expression of +interest, as he said, +</p> + +<p> +"O, Edith, I saw the funniest man this morning!" +</p> + +<p> +"Where?" she asked quickly. +</p> + +<p> +"Down by the side of the river among a clump of brushwood, gathering +little bundles of sticks. Charlie Seaton and I spoke to him, but he did +not answer us." +</p> + +<p> +"Did he wear a long overcoat with small capes on the shoulders, and a +slouching-brimmed hat?" inquired Edith earnestly. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," said Rufus. "Have you seen him, then?" +</p> + +<p> +"Passing along in the street," returned she. "Did Charlie know his name?" +</p> + +<p> +"No; but he said it was a man who lived alone in a small hut, far off in +the forest, made of the boughs and branches of cedar trees, curiously +twisted together; and he is thence styled the <i>Hermit of the +Cedars</i>." +</p> + +<p> +"A hermit!" exclaimed Edith. "I have read of such beings in old books, +but I never supposed they really existed, or at least never expected I +should see one with my own eyes. I shall like this place better than +ever, now; it will be so romantic to have a hermit in our vicinity. What +do you suppose he was going to do with his bundles of sticks, Rufus?" +</p> + +<p> +"Use them for firewood, probably," said he. +</p> + +<p> +"But I should have thought he might have obtained that in the forest +where he lives, and not been obliged to travel all the way down here, +this stormy day, to pick up wood from among the snow, and then carry it +two or three miles in his arms," said Edith, in a ruminating tone. +</p> + +<p> +"O, hermits are strange beings, sis!" answered Rufus, whistling a vacant +tune as he stood before the window gazing forth on the dismal storm which +debarred him from his accustomed diversion of skating on the frozen +surface of the river. +</p> + +<p> +While his children were occupied with the preceding conversation, Col. +Malcome had donned his fur-lined overcoat and stepped across the yard to +Deacon Allen's cottage. The good people were quite embarrassed to behold +so smart a visitor in their unostentatious little parlor, but the +colonel, by his gentlemanly grace, soon placed them at their ease. After +a few moments' conversation on general topics, he asked, casually enough, +who was the owner of the fine mansion he had noticed in his rambles about +town, with the appellation "Summer Home" sculptured on its marble +gateway? +</p> + +<p> +"O, that is Major Tom Howard's!" answered Deacon Allen. "His family have +made it their abode for six or eight months every season since they owned +it; and I understand, after their next return, it is to become their +permanent residence." +</p> + +<p> +"'Tis a delightful location," remarked Colonel M.; "a very large mansion. +Has Mr. Howard a family corresponding with its dimensions?" +</p> + +<p> +"O, no, only a wife and one child—a beautiful girl." +</p> + +<p> +"How old is his daughter?" inquired the colonel. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, about fourteen I should say; but seems much older from her matured +growth and manners." +</p> + +<p> +"Has Mr. Howard no sister living with him?" asked the visitor, +carelessly. +</p> + +<p> +"No," answered the deacon. +</p> + +<p> +"And has he not lost one?" +</p> + +<p> +"Not since he came among us; though his wife, I have understood, always +dresses in black. She is a confirmed invalid and seldom seen." +</p> + +<p> +"Then the family do not mingle much in society?" said the colonel. +</p> + +<p> +The deacon shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +"Somewhat aristocratic, probably," remarked the visitor. +</p> + +<p> +"I should judge so," said the deacon. "They don't send Florence to +school, but keep three tutors for her at home. She is very accomplished, +but rather wilful and proud, they say." +</p> + +<p> +"The effect of over-indulgence, perhaps," said the colonel, rising. +</p> + +<p> +"Will you not honor us with another call?" asked Mrs. Allen. +</p> + +<p> +"With pleasure," answered he, bowing a graceful good-morning to his +delighted entertainers. +</p> + + + + +<p class="chapter"> +CHAPTER IX. +</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2">"A vestal priestess, proudly pure</p> +<p class="i2">But of a meek and quiet spirit;</p> +<p class="i2">With soul all dauntless to endure</p> +<p class="i2">And mood so calm that naught can stir it,</p> +<p class="i2">Save when a thought most deeply thrilling</p> +<p class="i2">Her eyes with gentlest tears is filling,</p> +<p class="i2">Which seem with her true words to start</p> +<p class="i2">From the deep fountain of her heart."</p></div></div><br> + + + +<p> +The fine parlors of Mr. Leroy Edson's tasteful mansion were brilliantly +illuminated. Warm fires glowed in the shining marble grates. Dim argand +lamps bathed in soft light the rich furniture, carved cornices, and rare +statuary which decorated the mantels. The élite of Wimbledon were +assembling, and young Mrs. Edson moved lightly to and fro, receiving her +numerous guests with graceful self-possession, and welcoming them to her +home and heart with warm, earnest cordiality. They were nearly all +strangers to her, as she had been but a few months installed mistress of +Mr. Edson's splendid mansion; but she felt they were the people among +whom she was henceforth to live and find her associates and friends. She +had made one call, only, since her arrival in Wimbledon, and that on Col. +Malcome's family, who were later comers than herself. +</p> + +<p> +Louise Edson was graceful, brilliant, beautiful. O, what a wealth of +thought and intellect was hers; what a broad, generous nature; what +lightning-like perceptions, quick, far-seeing judgment, sparkling humor +and sarcastic wit! She floated in a sea of exuberant life and beauty, +which was fed continually from the exhaustless fountains of her own +thought-wealthy soul. Her calm, clear eyes mirrored the bright fancies +that flitted through her brain. The chestnut hair, brushed away from the +youthful brow, revealed the tiny blue veins on the white expanding +temples; while the high, straight nose and curved nostrils, with the +sweet little mouth and tapering chin that smiled below, made up a face +whose regular features were its least claim to beauty. It was the soul +within which shone over these features and lighted them at times with +supernatural loveliness. And was this brilliant being understood and +appreciated by the man who had won her for his bride? Faugh!—we blush at +our own stupidity in asking the question. Are such lofty souls ever +appreciated by even one of the swarming masses that people the earth with +their corporeal bodies? Let those answer who can. +</p> + +<p> +But Louise, soaring as was her nature, was yet cursed with that weakness +which too often possesses souls like hers, swaying e'en a more tyrant +sceptre than in meaner breasts, as though in envious hate of those +sky-aspiring pinions, and a demon wish to make them lick the dust. She +was an orphan, with no relative save a maiden aunt, with whom she dwelt. +She felt alone in the wide world, and she wanted—O, pity her, reader, if +you can!—she wanted somebody to lean on, somebody to look up to. Could +she not lean on her own strong intellect, and look up to the stars?—or +could she not breathe forth her rich-laden soul in lofty song and +romance, and lean upon the pillars of a world-wide fame? No, O, no! With +all her strength of soul and intellect, she had weak woman's heart. She +must love and be loved; and when the wealthy Mr. Leroy Edson knelt, an +enamored knight, at the shrine of her youth and beauty, she gave him her +hand. He thought he had done a most generous deed in thus raising a poor, +lone orphan girl from comparative obscurity to a position among the +highest circles of society. Her superior education and gem-freighted soul +were all the fortune she brought him; a fortune greater than the +treasures of Ind., but of whose princely value he had not the power to +form the most distant estimate. To behold her tall, graceful figure +flitting through his elegant mansion, performing some light household +duty, receiving her guests or chatting and singing gayly through the long +evenings, was, to him, life's whole of happiness. And was Louise +altogether content with the man of her choice? No, or she had not +gathered Wimbledon about her to make merry the midnight hour. People do +not give fêtes to display their happiness. They give them too often to +relieve a tedious monotony, to silence a gnawing discontent, and forget +for the moment in hilarious excitement some uneasy foreboding of evil to +come, or disquieting conviction that all, even now, is not as it should +be. +</p> + +<p> +Louise had not been many weeks Mrs. Edson, before she discovered the man +she had taken for "better or worse" till death should separate them, was +no helpmeet for her. They had not a thought or sympathy in common. He +hired servants to execute her commands; bought her fine clothes, and fine +books too, when he found these latter most delighted her; but he never +wished to hear her read from them, and invariably yawned if she spoke of +literary subjects. He was good-natured and fond of display, with a fair +estimate of his own importance and standing in society. He regarded +himself as one of the pillars of Wimbledon's wealth and +prosperity;—remove him, and the whole structure would tremble and +perhaps go down with a crash to rise no more. It took but a brief time +for Louise to read her husband's soul through and through; and with her +sharp, critical nature, that could not understand and would not overlook +faults and follies to which her bosom was a stranger, she decided she had +<i>married a fool</i>. What was to be done? The act was voluntary on her +part. True, a longer acquaintance between the parties might have led to a +different result, but it was too late to think of that now. And this was +the end of all her heart-longings for some one to love and reverence, to +lean on and look up to! O, how intense was her agony! All her fine +feelings wasted, her soul's wealth poured idly forth, and her rich life +in its blooming years given to one who could not understand one of her +lofty dreams or soaring aspirations. A falcon with sun-daring eyes tied +to a grovelling buzzard! Was't not a hard fate, reader? Pity her, all ye +who can,—pity her a great deal; mourn over her cruel wreck of happiness; +and if in future years the warm, impassioned nature, goaded by its own +unuttered pangs, driven wild by its rayless, hopeless desolation, is +guilty of some irregularities, some acts which virtue and propriety can +hardly sanction, O, remember her early sufferings, and be merciful! +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Edson's party passed off pleasantly. All seemed delighted with their +entertainment. The lord of the mansion was in great good-humor, and his +beautiful wife the star of the evening. In a simple robe of dark blue +cashmere, which fastened low over her white, sloping shoulders, and +fitted closely her slender waist, while the ample folds swept the rich +tapestry carpets, she moved among her guests like the embodiment of a +graceful thought. Her luxuriant brown hair was gathered in bands at the +back of her head; a massive chain and cross of gold ornamented her +swan-like neck, and bands of the same material clasped her round, white +arms. Small wonder that Mr. Edson should feel proud of his wife. The +whole evening she was the centre of a delighted group. All flocked around +to hear her brilliant conversation and gaze on her animated, expressive +features. Col. Malcome and the gentle Edith engaged a large share of her +attention and regard. The young girl was insensibly attracted by the +affectionate interest evinced in her manner, and the sweet voice and +beaming smile with which she addressed her. Col. Malcome expressed his +admiration of the exquisite taste displayed in the furnishing of her +parlors. +</p> + +<p> +"I cannot tell you, Mrs. Edson," said he, "what I most admire in your +elegant drawing-rooms. They are one harmonious whole; but if you were +removed, I think I would very soon discover what was wanting to render +them complete." +</p> + +<p> +"Now," said Louise, "let me tell you at the commencement of our +acquaintance, which I hope for my humble sake may continue to be +cultivated, that I detest flattery of all things;" and she turned a +smiling glance on him, as these piquant words fell from her pretty, red +lips, rendered more than usually charming by the slight sarcastic curl +she gave them. +</p> + +<p> +"So do I," returned he; "but truth is not flattery." +</p> + +<p> +"In the language of the poet," said she, laughing, "I will not seek to +cope with you in compliment. Do you know I feel a lively interest in your +beautiful daughter?" +</p> + +<p> +"I am gratified to know it," said he, glancing on the bright creature at +his side with an expressive glance. "Edith is a timid little thing; she +would improve under your accomplished tuition. Not that I have the +presumption to ask for her your care and instructions beyond what she +might receive by a neighborly interchange of visits." +</p> + +<p> +"O, say she may spend a portion of every week with me, when spring opens +and the earth is divested of its garb of snow!" said Louise, in a tone of +affectionate eagerness. "You cannot tell how her innocent gayety would +lighten many of my weary hours." +</p> + +<p> +Col. Malcome started as he heard these words, and turned a searching +glance upon her. A slight blush suffused her cheek for a moment, but she +soon regained her self-possession. It was one of her faults to give too +free, unrestrained expression to her thoughts. They came welling up to +her lips, and escaped ere she was aware. +</p> + +<p> +For several moments he continued to gaze on her, and there was something +in his countenance that instantly revealed to her quick eye that he had +not only believed in the weariness she had so thoughtlessly expressed, +but had also fathomed its cause. She felt displeased and irritated at her +own want of caution and what she silently termed his presumption. +</p> + +<p> +"Why do you look on me so strangely?" she asked at length. +</p> + +<p> +"I beg your pardon, madam," said he, suddenly averting his gaze. +</p> + +<p> +"Which I shall not give," returned she, with a slight, dignified movement +of her queenly head, "unless you tell me what you think of me." +</p> + +<p> +"<i>All</i> I think of you, Mrs. Edson," said he, turning his face again +toward hers, "perhaps would not please you to know." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, all," said Louise, "I will know all." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, this is not the time or place for the disclosure," answered he. +</p> + +<p> +She looked at him sharply as he pronounced these words. He smiled and +added, "I should be monopolizing the time which belongs to your company." +</p> + +<p> +"Ay, yes!" said she, "your words recall the duty I owe to my +condescending guests;" and, bowing, she glided away and joined a company +that surrounded the piano. +</p> + +<p> +"You play, of course, Mrs. Edson," said a portly man with a benevolent +countenance. +</p> + +<p> +"Occasionally, though I have rather a dull ear," she answered, assuming +the music-stool. Several light songs were performed with fine taste and +skill, and received the warmest encomiums of her listeners. Another and +another was called for, till at length she arose and said, "There are +doubtless others here who play far better than myself. I have led the +way, let them follow." +</p> + +<p> +Col. Malcome arose from a sofa near by, on which he had thrown himself to +listen to the fair musician, and assumed the seat she had vacated. A few +prolonged notes, and then one of the most beautiful and intricate +compositions of Beethoven, poured its sonorous strains on the ears of the +assembly. The performer at length seemed to forget all around him, and at +the end of the second chorus joined his own deep, rich tones with the +instrument. All were delighted; but Louise, with her quick sensibilities, +was thrilled to the centre of her soul. And she felt piqued and angry +too; not that he had excelled her, for she was above such small envy, +but——she could not tell why. +</p> + +<p> +The party dispersed, and she found herself again in the solitude of her +own apartment. That swelling chorus rolled through her midnight dreams, +and echoed in her ears for many a day, as she superintended her domestic +affairs, or sat down to the perusal of some treasured volume. +</p> + + + + +<p class="chapter"> +CHAPTER X. +</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>"I tell thee, husband, 'tis a goodly thing,</p> +<p>To get a daughter married off your hands,</p> +<p>And know she's found an easy-tempered mate;</p> +<p>For many men there be in this rude world.</p> +<p>Who do most shockingly abuse their wives;</p> +<p>But of their number is not this mild youth</p> +<p>Who takes our daughter for his wedded bride."</p></div></div><br> + + + +<p> +Young Mrs. Edson's party was a three days' wonder. Mrs. Salsify Mumbles, +inasmuch as she was excluded from being one of the guests, availed +herself of the next choicest privilege, and learned, as far as she was +able, the dresses and conversation of those in attendance; and how Mrs. +E. comported herself, and what she cooked for supper. She was shocked to +learn the young wife wore a low-necked dress, and set her down at once as +a low, vulgar woman, in whose company she should consider it a disgrace +to be seen. Mrs. Pimble said another milk-sop had come among them to fawn +and giggle in the face of the oppressor, man. +</p> + +<p> +The Edson fête seemed to pave the way for others, and the winter season +passed gayly and pleasantly among the wealthier classes of Wimbledon. +Col. Malcome, his daughter, and Rufus, were present at all the social +gatherings; and, in fact, the colonel's was getting to be a familiar and +welcome face at almost every door in the village. He even called on Mrs. +Salsify Mumbles, one day, and addressed several civil speeches to the +interesting Mary Madeline, who blushed crimson beneath the glance of his +<i>unresistible</i> eyes, as she termed them, and trembled like an aspen, +in her red silk gown. We do not know that we have ever spoken of the +personal charms of this blooming young lady, and we will now attempt a +brief daguerreotype for the reader's enlightenment and edification. +</p> + +<p> +Her hair was of that peculiarly brilliant color noticed in that +delightful esculent vegetable, the carrot, when boiled and prepared for +table. She wore it twisted in a hard, horny knob at the top of her head, +which strained her blue-green eyes, and gave them the expression of those +of a choked grimalkin. Her nose turned divinely upwards; her blubber lips +turned downwards with a grievous, watery expression. Her cheeks were red; +so was her nose; so were her eyes at times, when the horny knob took a +harder twist than usual. She had small, hairy ears, ornamented with +enormous jewels. Her neck was short, and three stubborn warts, of the +size of peas, stuck to its left side. Her waist might have been admired +in the fifteenth century; but it was some nine inches too short by as +many too broad, to elicit the admiration of the gallants of the present +age, who rave, and go distracted about gossamer divinities scarcely six +inches in circumference. She was about four feet four in stature, and her +foot would have crushed Cinderella, and used her slipper for a thumb-cot. +Such was Mary Madeline Mumbles in her eighteenth year, and never was +child more like parent, than was this young lady like her doting, +affectionate mamma. +</p> + +<p> +We have been at considerable trouble to sketch Miss Mumbles at full +length, that the reader may be able to form a correct idea of her +appearance when she steps forth in full glory of silken bridal attire, on +the arm of Mr. Theophilus Shaw, the promising young shoe-cobbler, upon +whom Mr. Salsify had long since set his heart, as the proper man to +become his future son-in-law. And Miss Mary, who lost her passion for +Dick Giblet, after he shut the watch-dog in the kitchen-pantry,—a trick +which had nearly cost her the loss of a beloved mother,—and finding she +could not captivate the handsome Colonel Malcome with checkered aprons +and broad lace, began, like a dutiful child, to receive the advances of +the mild Theophilus more graciously, and had, after much maidenly +confusion, consented to become his wife, when, as we have seen, the +uncompromising colonel called, and distracted her with fear lest she had +been too precipitate in accepting Theophilus, when a higher prize might +be on the point of falling into her arms. But her apprehensions were +banished after a while, as the colonel did not appear a second time, and +the marriage was finally consummated; and Mary Madeline Mumbles became in +due form Mrs. Theophilus Shaw. Jenny Andrews and Amy Seaton officiated as +bridesmaids, and a large party were invited to make merry on the +occasion. +</p> + +<p> +The bride's apparel was magnificent; so was the bridegroom's. We would +attempt to describe it in detail, but dare not, knowing well we should +fail to do it justice. Mrs. Salsify had the wicks of her parlor lamps +full half an inch in length, and never seemed to notice how swiftly the +camphene was disappearing, so elate was she with the prospect of marrying +her beautiful daughter. +</p> + +<p> +The happy couple were to make a short bridal excursion, and then return +and dwell under the bride's parental roof for the present; Mrs. Salsify +having vacated her bed-room, which the young people were going to use for +kitchen, parlor, and shoemaker's shop. And a little pasteboard sign with +the words, "Theophilus Shaw, Boot & Shoe Maker," scrawled on it with +lampblack, in an awkward, school-boy hand, was suspended by a string from +the bed-room window. +</p> + +<p> +"I am glad to have Mary Madeline settled in life," said Mrs. Mumbles, +after the arrangements were all complete; "and the matter off my mind." +</p> + +<p> +"So am I," answered her husband; "and I am glad she has made so good a +match, too. Mr. Shaw will make a much better husband than Dick Giblet, or +that black-headed Col. Malcome." +</p> + +<p> +"O, a better one than that scapegrace of a Dick, of course!" said Mrs. +Salsify, quickly; "but as to a better one than the colonel, I don't know +about that. The advantages of his position are very great. Maddie would +have been the tip-top of Wimbledon if she had married him." +</p> + +<p> +"So she will be now, in time," returned Mr. S., confidently, "for I am +'rising rapidly in my profession.' Next summer I shall build the piazza +and second story, and in ten years I'd like to see the man that can hold +his head above Mr. Salsify Mumbles." +</p> + +<p> +At these hopeful words, the wife fondly embraced her husband, and the +loving couple fell to forming plans and projects for their brilliant +future. +</p> + + + + +<p class="chapter"> +CHAPTER XI. +</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>And yet this wild woods' man was happy once,—</p> +<p class="i2">Bright fame did offer him her richest dower,</p> +<p>But disappointment blasted all his hopes,</p> +<p class="i2">And crushed him 'neath her desolating power.</p></div></div><br> + + + +<p> +Cold and bleak roared the fierce wintry blasts through the broad, dense +forest that stretched away to the north of Wimbledon. The stars sparkled +with unwonted brilliancy over the clear blue firmament, as a quick step +crackled along the narrow, icy path, and a dark form was seen hurrying +toward a faint light that gleamed dimly through a dense clump of cedars. +Then there was a sound as of bars withdrawn, and a bright, blazing hearth +was revealed for a moment as the dark form entered, when all was hushed +and silent again, save the dismal roar of the night wind through the +surrounding pines. +</p> + +<p> +"You are late to-night, uncle," said a tall, dark-haired youth, as he +undid the fastenings of the wanderer's long overcoat, and removed his +woollen mittens and wide-brimmed hat. +</p> + +<p> +"What time do you conceive it to be?" asked the man, depositing his long +staff in a corner, and approaching the glowing fire. +</p> + +<p> +"Past midnight, I would suppose," answered the boy, piling up a quantity +of books that were scattered over a small table, and with which he had +been occupying himself through the long evening hours. +</p> + +<p> +"O, not so late as that!" returned the man, drawing a rude chair before +the fire and extending his small, thin hands to the grateful blaze. "The +village clock in the old church tower at Wimbledon was on the stroke of +ten when I laid my bundle of sticks in their accustomed place, and set my +face homewards. I must have travelled at a laggard pace, if it is already +midnight. Are you lonesome when I'm away, Edgar?" inquired he, turning +his deep, melancholy eyes on the fair, open countenance of the youth. +</p> + +<p> +"Sometimes I am," returned he; "I have been so to-night. A strange power +seemed to possess my thoughts, to lead them through most hideous scenes, +and dark, awful glooms and shadows enveloped my soul in mazes of doubt +and fear." +</p> + +<p> +"What a nervous boy you are!" said the man, "come and sit beside me, and +I'll tell you of a project I've been revolving in my mind these several +days." Edgar did as requested, and after a brief silence the hermit +commenced: +</p> + +<p> +"These six months, my lad, you have dwelt in this little hut in the +forest, holding intercourse with no human being save myself. It is not +right your boyhood and youth should pass in this manner. I have been +selfish in keeping you all to myself, to cheer my solitude. 'Twas your +parents' dying wish that you should receive all the advantages of +education and travel. Your life has been, for the most part, spent in the +toil of study, and I knew you needed an interval of relaxation and +retirement to reïnvigorate your mental and physical energies. So I +brought you to share the seclusion of my hermitage for a while. Grateful +as has been your presence to me, I should wrong you, and forfeit the +promise given your parents on their deathbeds, if I encouraged or +permitted this retirement for a longer period than is necessary for your +restoration to health and vigor. You know I am your guardian, Edgar. The +fortune left for you by your father was entrusted to my care till you +should attain a suitable age to have it transferred to your own hands, +and ample provisions were made for your education and instruction in the +painter's art. Do you see what I am coming at, Edgar?" he added, pausing +in his discourse, and directing his gaze toward the boy, who sat +listening attentively to his uncle's words. +</p> + +<p> +"No, Uncle Ralph," answered the lad; "I don't know as I do, unless you +are going to send me away from you to some distant school;" and his voice +trembled as he spoke. +</p> + +<p> +"Would you dislike to leave me, my boy?" said the hermit, a tear dropping +from his melancholy eye. +</p> + +<p> +"Ah, that would I!" returned Edgar, "for I have none to care for me in +the wide world, save you." +</p> + +<p> +"Pshaw, pshaw, boy! don't prate in that way, with your bright, curly +locks," said the man, laying his thin hand softly on the youth's light, +clustering hair. "When these locks are gray, and you have toiled and +labored for fame and honors never gained, or that burned and furrowed the +brow that wore them; when you have engaged in the world's weary strife +and sunk by the wayside worn and disheartened by the contest; when +friends have proved false;"—here the hermit's voice grew deeper and more +vehement—"and when those who professed for you the fondest love turn +coldly away to mock and scorn at your deep devotion, then, then, my boy, +you will exclaim in bitterness, 'there are none to care for me!'" +</p> + +<p> +He paused, and bowed his face on his hands. Edgar longed to comfort him, +but knew not what to say. +</p> + +<p> +The night wind roared solemnly without, the fire burned low on the rude +hearth, and the little apartment, but illy protected from the searching +blasts, grew chilly. Still the hermit sat silent, his bowed head resting +between his small, attenuated hands. Edgar rose, brought the long +overcoat and spread it over his shoulders, as a protection from the +increasing cold. Then wrapping a blanket around his own light form, he +stole softly to the window, and turned his gaze upward to the +star-lighted heaven. He dearly loved to sit thus through the hushed +midnight hours, and listen to the deep, heavy roaring of the mighty +winds, as they swept through the surrounding forest, while his soul +seemed borne away on their rushing currents, up and upward till her +pinions brushed the starry palaces of angels and beatified spirits; and +on, and on, with new splendors ever bursting on her ravished vision, till +the elysium of light in the high heaven of heavens poured its bewildering +glories upon her, and her weary wings fluttered to rest at last upon the +bosom of the All-Holy. +</p> + +<p> +Edgar was possessed of a temperament of the most imaginative order, +deeply imbued with lofty, poetic sentiment, and a tendency to reserve and +melancholy. His father had been an artist, and the sunny skies of Italy +cast their bright glory over his tender years, warming to impassioned +ardor the springs and fountains of his youthful bosom. Very few boys of +his age and acquirements could have endured the seclusion in which he had +dwelt for the last six months; but nothing could have been more consonant +with the reserved, romantic disposition of Edgar; and the prospect of +leaving the wild hut in the forest to go forth among the wide world's +jostling crowds, caused him heart-throbbing pangs. +</p> + +<p> +After a long silence the hermit roused himself. The room was cold and +dark. +</p> + +<p> +"Edgar?" said he, in a low, broken voice. +</p> + +<p> +"I am here," answered the youth, rising, and feeling his way through the +darkness to his uncle's side, "Won't you lie down now? The room is so +cold, and there is no wood within to replenish the fire." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, my boy, I will lie down," said the hermit, "but not to sleep; the +ghosts of past joys are with me to-night." +</p> + +<p> +"Drive them away, uncle!" said the lad soothingly. "I am not disposed to +sleep either. Let us lie down and cover us warm, and then you tell me of +your plans and projects for my future, as you had commenced to do a few +hours ago." +</p> + +<p> +"No, Edgar, not to-night," answered the recluse. "Your young eyes will +wax heavy with these midnight vigils. You must sleep, my boy, and +to-morrow I will communicate my plans concerning you." +</p> + +<p> +"As you say, uncle," returned Edgar, preparing to lie down. +</p> + +<p> +Young, and happily ignorant of the cares and sorrows that distract the +bosoms of maturer years, he was soon asleep. +</p> + +<p> +The hermit moved to the window, and, after gazing forth some time in +silence, murmured, "Wild, wild is the night! Heaven send she does not +suffer. I left two bundles on her lonely sill, though my fingers grew +stiff with cold ere I had gathered them. Thus do I feebly endeavor to +atone for past misconduct. How the wind roars through the pines! O, what +memories of long ago rush o'er my soul! I think of Mary as the time +approaches when she will be near me. Shall I see her face again? God +forbid!" exclaimed he, stamping his foot violently upon the stone floor. +After a while he resumed his low soliloquy. "I fear for Edgar," he said, +"lest the cold world chill his heart and undo his usefulness, as it has +mine. He has my temperament, reserved, sensitive, and with the same +accursed capacity for strong, undying attachment. What a fair prospect of +fame had I! What honors were ready to crown me when that monster came and +blasted them all! Such do I fear will be Edgar's fate. But he must go +forth into the world; such was the wish of his parents. I can keep him +near me a few months longer by sending him to the Wimbledon seminary, ere +he must depart for some distant university or school of art. Then the +great world will have opened before him, and I shall see him no more." +The hermit suddenly ceased. Tears choked his utterance. +</p> + +<p> +"Uncle!" said Edgar, starting quickly from his slumbers, "will you not +come and lie down?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, my boy," answered the sorrowing man, approaching the rude couch. +</p> + +<p> +The wintry winds wailed on with piteous, mournful voices; but the +<i>Hermit of the Cedars</i> slept at last, +</p> + +<div class="poemtext"> +<div class="stanzatext"> +<p>"A troubled, dreamy sleep."</p></div></div> + + + + +<p class="chapter"> +CHAPTER XII. +</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2">"Lawyers and doctors at your service.</p> +<p class="i18">We are better off</p> +<p class="i2">Without them.</p> +<p class="i14">True, you are,—but still</p> +<p class="i2">You follow on their heels, and fawn,</p> +<p class="i2">And flatter in their faces. If you</p> +<p class="i2">Would leave your brawls and fights which</p> +<p class="i2">Call for physic, very soon you'd be</p> +<p class="i2">Beyond their greedy clutches."</p></div></div> + +<p class="mid"> +<span class="sc">Old Play.</span> +</p><br> + + +<p> +Reader, do you wonder where's the doctor whose saddle-bags may be +supposed to contain the divers specifics for the "ills" which the "flesh" +of Wimbledon is liable to become heir to? He doth exist, and, when +occasion calls, we'll trot him forth. +</p> + +<p> +And do you say this same Wimbledon has never a lawyer within its +precincts,—and whoever heard of a village of several hundred inhabitants +without at least half-a-dozen of these learned disciples of Blackstone to +settle its wrongs and right its abuses? +</p> + +<p> +Permit us to inform you, friend, that we consider lawyers dangerous +animals; and the less men and women have to do with them, the better! +</p> + +<p> +Nevertheless, there is one o' the craft in Wimbledon; and, if you had not +been blind as a bat, you would have discovered, ere this, the sign of +"Peter Paul Pimble, Esq., Attorney-at-Law," hung over the door of a +small, black building in Mudget square. True, Mr. Pimble don't practise +his profession much, for a very good reason; nobody is in want of his +services; and that's the case with two thirds of the lawyers in +Christendom. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Pimble has converted her husband's office into a committee-room, and +receptacle for hoards of pamphlets and papers, containing the proceedings +of divers conventions held for the advancement of the cause of "Woman's +Rights, and promulgation of Universal Freedom and Philanthropy." +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Pimble, the ardent reformist, is at present detained from her labors +by the illness of her eldest son, Garrison. She has sent for the young +female physician, Dr. Sarah Simcoe; but the word is, "pressing business +detains that medical functionary at home,"—so, in direct violation of +her established principles, she has been compelled to send for old Dr. +Potipher, who considers himself, par excellence, the Esculapius of +Wimbledon. +</p> + +<p> +But Peggy Nonce comes blowing back from her hasty errand, and says the +doctor is down to Mr. Moses Simcoe's. Mrs. Pimble wonders what should +take a vile male practitioner to the house of an accomplished +lady-physician. Peggy looks wise, as much as to say she could explain the +mystery if she chose. But no one asks her to speak, so she goes into the +kitchen, where Mr. Pimble sits in his dressing-gown and sheepskin +slippers, shivering over an expiring fire. He lifts his head, as the +bustling housekeeper begins to rattle the covers of the stove for the +purpose of putting in some more wood, and asks feebly if "Dr. Potipher +has arrived." +</p> + +<p> +"No," answers Peggy. "He is down to Mr. Simcoe's." +</p> + +<p> +"Who is sick there?" inquires Mr. Pimble. +</p> + +<p> +"His wife." +</p> + +<p> +"Why, she is a doctor herself! Can't she cure her own ailments?" says Mr. +Pimble. +</p> + +<p> +"Not always, I reckon," is Peggy's reply, while she is evidently vastly +amused by something she does not choose to communicate at present. +</p> + +<p> +Beside the bed of her sick boy stood Mrs. Pimble. She laid her hand on +his forehead. It burned with fever, and his pulse was quick and hard. She +was not much skilled in the "art medical," but she resolved to do +<i>something</i> for her child, and forthwith proceeded to the kitchen +and compounded a dish of catnip leaves and ginger. It exhaled a savory +smell, and she felt quite confident it would cool off Garrison's fever. +Placing a large bowl of the liquid by his bed-side, she bade him drink +freely of it through the evening, while she was gone to the Reform Club, +and when she came home she would call at Sister Simcoe's and obtain a +prescription for him. The sick lad promised to do as she requested. His +fever inclined him to drink incessantly, and ere his mother was ten yards +from the house, he had guzzled the whole brimming bowlful. And still he +called for drink, drink; which his insensate father carried to him in +copious quantities as often as he desired it. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Pimble proceeded on her way to the club room. For some reason there +was but a thin attendance. None of the prominent members were present, +and the little company decided to adjourn. Mrs. Pimble hurried round to +Mrs. Simcoe's, to learn the cause of her absence and get the prescription +for Garrison. The lady-doctor had been lecturing for several months in +different towns of the county, and was but recently returned. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Pimble entered without knocking, as was her wont, and walked into +the young doctor's office, where she beheld, not the fair, feminine face +of the rightful proprietor, but the ugly, rhubarb-colored visage of the +village apothecary, Dr. Potipher, ensconced in the high-backed cushioned +chair, fast asleep. +</p> + +<p> +She turned back and opened the sitting-room door, and there stood Mr. +Simcoe before a bed, holding a tea-tray, containing several vials and +glasses. Mrs. Pimble started on seeing the night-capped head of Mrs. +Simcoe raised feebly from the pillow, and darting forward, exclaimed, +"Mercy, Sister Simcoe! what has befallen you?" +</p> + +<p> +A smothered wail from beneath the bed-clothes now met her ear, and, +turning down the blankets, she discovered two red-faced, bald-headed +babies, wrapped in swaddling-clothes. She started back aghast. +</p> + +<p> +"What are those things—what are those things?" she demanded, +hysterically, pointing to the infant strangers. +</p> + +<p> +"Simcoe's children!" groaned the pale lady-doctor, turning uneasily away +from the little things that lay squirming and making such grimaces, as +only very young babies <i>can</i> make, in the face of Mrs. Pimble. The +alleged father stood there, chuckling over the smartness of his progeny. +Mrs. Pimble darted one withering glance upon him, and walked away without +another word. She roused old Dr. Potipher, and took him home with her. +Well she did so, for Garrison was much worse than when she left him, and +the doctor pronounced it a case of brain fever, which would require the +nicest care and nursing. +</p> + +<p> +Thus a wet blanket was most audaciously thrown upon the Woman's Rights' +Reform, which was fain to arrest its progress in Wimbledon for a while. +We shall see how long. +</p> + + + + +<p class="chapter"> +CHAPTER XIII. +</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>"Thy hands are filled with early flowers,</p> +<p class="i4">Thy step is on the wind;</p> +<p>The innocent and keen delight</p> +<p class="i4">Of youth is on thy mind;</p> +<p>That glad fresh feeling that bestows</p> +<p>Itself the gladness which it knows,</p> +<p class="i4">The pure, the undefined;</p> +<p>And thou art in that happy hour</p> +<p>Of feeling's uncurbed, early power."</p></div></div><br> + + +<p> +The spring dawned bright and beautiful over Wimbledon, and when the first +blue-birds sang on the budding boughs, and the grass was springing green +in streets and by-ways, the tenants of "Summer Home" returned; and a +bright young girl, with dark abundant hair hanging in a rich profusion of +shiny ringlets over her white, uncovered shoulders, was seen skipping +lightly through the gardens and grounds, pruning shrubs, transplanting +flowers, and training truant vines over arbors and alcoves. +</p> + +<p> +It was Florence Howard, resplendent in the light of her girlish beauty, +and buoyant overflow of health and happiness. Often, in her morning +strolls, she noticed a tall, graceful boy, in a blue frock-coat, with a +shining morocco cap placed over a head of light curly hair, passing +along, satchel in hand, to the seminary on the hill, and every night she +saw him disappear within the forest that lay to the northward of her +father's residence. +</p> + +<p> +She wondered what became of him, for the woods were wide and deep, and it +must be a long way to the other side. There surely could be no habitation +within their precincts, and Florence's curiosity was strongly excited to +fathom the mystery, which in her eyes surrounded the fair-haired youth. +</p> + +<p> +"Father," said she one evening, as she sat beside him on the western +terrace, "I don't like being confined herewith these stupid tutors. I +wish you would let me go to school at the seminary." +</p> + +<p> +"Your advantages at home are far superior, my daughter," answered her +father. +</p> + +<p> +"O, but I should like the air and exercise, and the company of children +of my own age so much," pursued she, poking her little fingers through +her father's silvered locks, and leaning up against his side in a very +coaxing attitude. "I shall become the saddest mope in the world if I am +cooped up here." +</p> + +<p> +"I apprehend small danger of that," returned her father, laughing, "for +you have appeared to me, since our last return, a wilder romp than ever +before." +</p> + +<p> +"O, that's only because I'm so glad to get to this delightful place +again, and to know we are to go away no more!" said she. "It will wear +off after a while, and I shall become silent and solemn as a nun. Won't +you let me go to the seminary just one term? I can still take my music +lessons of Mrs. Sayles here at home, and I know my French and Italian +masters would like a respite from their duties." She stood looking +earnestly in her father's face. +</p> + +<p> +"You smooth the way very well, my little daughter," said he, patting her +rosy cheek; "but I incline to think you had better continue your studies +in the old way." +</p> + +<p> +Florence looked disappointed, and turned slowly from his side. Her +dejected appearance touched his affectionate heart, and he called her +back. She came bounding toward him, with new hope dancing in her dark +liquid eyes. +</p> + +<p> +"If you can obtain your mother's consent," said he, "I will not object to +your attending school at the seminary one term, as you seem so much to +desire it." +</p> + +<p> +"O, thank you, thank you, dear father!" exclaimed the glad girl, putting +her arms round his neck, and giving him a grateful kiss on either cheek, +"and may I commence to-morrow? that is, if mamma consents to my going?" +</p> + +<p> +"To-morrow?" said he, "had you not better wait, as this term is so far +advanced, and commence with a new one?" +</p> + +<p> +"O, no!" returned she, "I should rather begin at once." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, go in, little Miss Rattle, and see what your sage mamma says on +the subject," said her father, smiling at her earnest countenance. +</p> + +<p> +Away went Florence, with the lightness of a bird up the hall stairs, and, +giving a light tap at a closed door, stood dancing softly on tip-toe, as +she waited a summons to enter. "Who's there?" asked a low, trembling +voice at length. +</p> + +<p> +"Me, mamma," answered Florence; "may I come in? I've something to ask +you." +</p> + +<p> +The door was opened by a short, thin woman, of dark complexion, small +peering black eyes, and slick, shining hair of the same hue, which was +arranged with an air of nicety and precision. +</p> + +<p> +Florence entered and glanced with an expression of alarm toward the drawn +curtains of a mahogany bedstead. "Is mother worse?" she asked in a voice +but a breath above a whisper. +</p> + +<p> +"She has had one of her bleeding spells," answered the small, dark woman. +"Where is your father?" +</p> + +<p> +"On the lower terrace; shall I call him?" +</p> + +<p> +"No, I will go to him," returned the woman, "if you will remain by your +mother a while." +</p> + +<p> +"O, yes, I shall be delighted to stay!" said Florence, approaching the +couch. +</p> + +<p> +"You must not talk to her," remarked the woman; "she needs to be very +quiet." +</p> + +<p> +"I won't speak a word unless she asks me to," answered the young girl, +sitting down by the bed-side, as the dark woman disappeared, closing the +door softly behind her. +</p> + +<p> +After a few moments' silence the sick woman stirred and parted the +curtains slightly with her wan hand. Florence rose. "Do you want +anything, mother?" she asked. +</p> + +<p> +"No, my dear, I have been asleep. Where is Hannah?" +</p> + +<p> +"Gone below. I think to send father for Dr. Potipher." +</p> + +<p> +"I hope not," said the invalid; "it is not necessary. This is only one of +my common attacks. I shall be as well as usual in a few days." +</p> + +<p> +"Do you think so, mother?" asked Florence, brightening. "I feared you +were very ill. I had something particular to say, but I was not going to +say it, for fear of hurting you." +</p> + +<p> +"What is it, dear?" inquired the mother. +</p> + +<p> +"Something papa and I have been talking about down on the piazza +to-night." +</p> + +<p> +"Well," said the sick woman, looking affectionately on the earnest +expression and downcast lids of Florence's large hazel eyes. +</p> + +<p> +"I asked him to let me go to the seminary this term, and he said if you +had no objection I might do so," said the hesitating girl, at length, +with a long-drawn breath, as though she had relieved her bosom of a heavy +burden. +</p> + +<p> +The pale lady was silent a few moments, as if revolving the matter in her +mind. Then she spoke suddenly. "You said your father had no objection?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," answered Florence. +</p> + +<p> +"Then, of course, I have none," said the woman, turning over on her +pillow and settling herself as if to sleep again. +</p> + +<p> +Florence was about to pour forth her gratitude for the favor shown her +request, when the dark-browed woman entered, shook her finger at her, and +bade her go below. Florence's eyes flashed back her answer. +</p> + +<p> +"I'll go at my mother's request, not otherwise," said she. +</p> + +<p> +A dark frown gathered on the woman's features, and the invalid said +tremblingly, "I would like to sleep; perhaps you had better go and stay +with your father a while, my dear." +</p> + +<p> +Florence kissed the pale brow, and then moved toward the door with +noiseless tread. The dark woman cast a glance of angry triumph upon her, +which was returned by one of fearless defiance. +</p> + +<p> +Since Florence's earliest recollection her mother had been an invalid, +shunning society and subject to long fits of depression, and, upon the +slightest excitement, to severe attacks of palpitation and bleeding from +the chest, which frequently prostrated her on a bed of suffering for +weeks. Hannah Doliver had always been her attendant, though Florence, in +the simplicity of her young heart, often wondered that her parents should +retain her in their service; for she was a bold, impudent, +violent-tempered woman, who set up her will for law in the household, and +seemed to exercise an almost tyrannic sway over the weak invalid, who +appeared to stand in awe of her slightest nod. She showed a marked +dislike for Florence, and delighted in tantalizing her, when she was a +little child, and thwarting her wishes. As the fair girl grew older, she +resolved the arbitrary woman should not govern or intimidate her, and met +all her attempts at petty tyranny with a bold, undaunted spirit, which +seemed to increase the woman's hatred. Florence once asked her father why +he did not send Hannah Doliver away. +</p> + +<p> +"Your mother could not do without her, my child," said he. +</p> + +<p> +"I think she could do better without her than with her," returned +Florence, "for she is cross to mamma, and makes her do everything just as +she says." +</p> + +<p> +"O, no, I guess not," said her father. +</p> + +<p> +"But she does," persisted Florence, "and I would not have her in the +house." Major Howard patted his little daughter's cheek and said, "When +you are older, Florence, you will understand a great many things that +seem dark and mysterious to you now." +</p> + +<p> +Florence was not satisfied, but she turned away, and never mentioned the +subject to her father again. +</p> + +<p> +Early the next morning the glad-hearted girl was astir, getting in +readiness for school. She gathered her books together and placed them in +a satchel of crimson broadcloth, which she had just embroidered, with +bright German wools, in wreaths of spotted daisies and wild columbines. +Then donning a blue muslin frock, dotted over with small silver stars, +and tying on a black silk apron with open velvet pockets, from one of +which peeped a snowy lace-edged handkerchief, she took satchel, gloves +and gypsy hat, and descended to the parlor, ensconcing herself in a nook +of the north window, where she stood gazing over the hill-tops toward the +distant forest with eager eyes to behold the fair-haired boy emerge from +its recesses. +</p> + +<p> +At length he appeared, and she watched him till he was descending the +hill which sloped past her father's mansion. Then, hastily tying on her +hat and seizing her satchel, she was hurrying through the hall to gain +the street, when she encountered Hannah Doliver. +</p> + +<p> +"Where are you going?" demanded she in a sharp tone. +</p> + +<p> +"To school," answered Florence, rushing past her. +</p> + +<p> +"By whose leave, I wonder?" said the woman, running after her, to drag +her back. But the nimble-footed girl was too swift for her, and she +returned to the house muttering angrily to herself. Meantime, Florence +bounded over the gravelled walks, and was emerging from the gateway just +as the lad, in the morocco cap, was passing by. He arrested his steps on +beholding her, and bowed gracefully. She returned his salute, and said, +blushingly, "I am going to school up to the seminary. May I walk with +you?" +</p> + +<p> +"Certainly, Miss Howard," answered he; "I shall be grateful for your +company." +</p> + +<p> +"You know my name," said she, advancing to his side; "I am ignorant of +yours." +</p> + +<p> +"Edgar Lindenwood," returned he, and the two walked on together. +</p> + + + + +<p class="chapter"> +CHAPTER XIV. +</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">——"She has dark violet eyes,</p> +<p>A voice as soft as moonlight. On her cheek</p> +<p>The blushing blood miraculous doth range</p> +<p>From sea-shell pink to sunset. When she speaks</p> +<p>Her soul is shining through her earnest face</p> +<p>As shines a moon through its up-swathing cloud.</p> +<p>My tongue's a very beggar in her praise,</p> +<p>It cannot gild her gold with all its words."</p></div></div> + +<p class="mid"><span class="sc">Alexander Smith</span>. +</p><br> + +<p> +There was a neat, little vine-covered cottage standing a few doors +removed from the elegant mansion of Leroy Edson, and in it dwelt Mrs. +Stanhope, a widow lady and her maiden sister, Miss Martha Pinkerton, +a female of uncertain age, as authors say, and possessed of the +peculiarities common to persons of her class. They were not poor, nor +were they rich, but made a good living, as the world goes, by taking in +needlework. Young Mrs. Edson frequently dropped in to pass an hour in +social converse with Mrs. Stanhope, who was a pleasant, agreeable woman. +Miss Martha, too, always wore a smile on her sharp-featured face when +the lovely young wife appeared at the cottage. As they were simple, +unostentatious people, living in a retired and quiet way, she laid aside +all form and ceremony, and was accustomed to run in at any hour, in +whatever garb she chanced to be. +</p> + +<p> +On a bright May morning, as the ladies had made all things tidy, and were +seating themselves to their daily avocation of the needle, they heard +the garden gate swing, and beheld Mrs. Edson approaching in her little +white sun-bonnet and spotted muslin dressing-gown, open from the waist +downwards, revealing a fine cambric skirt, wrought in several rows of +vines and deep scolloped edges. Mrs. Stanhope met her visitor on the +porch. +</p> + +<p> +"Good-morning," said she, extending her hand; "I am happy to see +you:—how beautiful and eloquent you are looking!" +</p> + +<p> +"O, this glorious, sweet-breathed morning, with its birds and flowers, +is enough to brighten the most torpid thing into animation!" exclaimed +Louise, grasping her friend's hand warmly. "You don't know how I love +everything and everybody to-day, Mrs. Stanhope," she continued, in a +tone of earnest enthusiasm, as she entered the little parlor, still +holding the good woman by one hand, while she extended the other to +Miss Pinkerton, who rose from her work to receive her, and drew an +old-fashioned, straight-backed rocking-chair, cushioned and lined with +gay copperplate, up before the window for her comfort. "I must not sit +long," said Louise, assuming the proffered seat, "for I have left my +house quite alone; the servants having gone out on errands for +themselves. I tried one thing and another to divert myself, but the +birds sang so sweetly, the sun was so bright, and everything seemed to +say, up and away. So I donned my sun-bonnet and ran over here as the +nicest, quietest little nook I could fly to; and where I should be as +welcome in my morning-gown as in full dress of ruffles and satins." +</p> + +<p> +"And even more so, if possible," answered Mrs. Stanhope; "simple people +like us are always a good deal put out and embarrassed by grandeur and +display. It has something awful and unapproachable in our eyes." +</p> + +<p> +"It has something servile and contemptible in mine," said Louise; "I +always shrink from a woman flaunted out in rustling silks, great, +glaring rings on her fingers, and alarming jewels swinging like +ponderous pendulums from her ears. I think what a poor, little, pinched, +narrow-contracted, poverty-stricken soul is there, that seeks to atone +for the lack within, by rigging her poor body out like a veritable queen +of harlots." +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Stanhope and Miss Martha burst into a cordial fit of laughter, as +Louise, with a good deal of spirit and sarcasm, delivered herself of the +preceding speech; and, before their merriment had subsided, a knock was +heard at the inner door, and Col. Malcome stepped in, bowing gracefully, +with a pleasant "Good-morning" to the three ladies. Mrs. Stanhope rose +and offered him a chair. Depositing a large package he held in his arms +on a corner of the sofa, he sat down. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Edson blushed. She thought it was at being caught from home in +dishabille by a gentleman of the colonel's etiquette and high breeding. +After a few casual remarks upon the beauty of the morning, he turned his +discourse to her, and remarked: +</p> + +<p> +"I am happy to meet you, Mrs. Edson; we are getting to be quite strangers +of late. Edith is lamenting that you do not honor us with more frequent +visits." +</p> + +<p> +"I have often wished to call on your family, Col. Malcome," returned +Louise, in a calm, clear voice; "but since your daughter commenced +attending school, have desisted, lest I might inconvenience her." +</p> + +<p> +"Edith does not go to the seminary after two o'clock," said he; "her +evenings are quite unemployed, and she would be highly gratified to +receive a call from you." +</p> + +<p> +"I shall be pleased to call on her, and also to receive more frequent +visits from her. She has less to confine her at home than I; so her +visits should outnumber mine." +</p> + +<p> +"Ay, yes; you speak sensibly, Mrs. Edson," returned he; "you have more +calls on your time than Edith. Strange I can never remember you are a +married woman." +</p> + +<p> +"It would be well for you to remember it," said Louise, with a dignified +curve of her graceful neck, and slight addition of color, which very much +heightened her beauty. +</p> + +<p> +"Mrs. Edson is so youthful in appearance," remarked Mrs. Stanhope, "I +think she might excuse one for forgetting she is a matron." +</p> + +<p> +"I'll excuse you, Mrs. Stanhope," said Louise, rising; "I don't want to +be anything to you, but your little girl, and to run in here just when I +have a mind to, and to have you chide me when I do wrong, and love me +always, whether right or wrong. So good-morning," and, curtseying +gracefully, she glided from the room and retraced her steps to her own +mansion. +</p> + +<p> +There was a silence of several minutes after she left, during which Col. +Malcome recollected his package, and, placing it on the table, politely +inquired if the ladies could oblige him by sewing a quantity of linen, of +which he should be in need in course of a few weeks, as he meditated +going a journey. They would be very willing to do it for him, could they +get it in readiness by the time he would want it; but they had a great +deal of unfinished work on their hands. Miss Pinkerton was confident they +could accomplish the colonel's, however. +</p> + +<p> +"I am doubtful, Martha," said Mrs. Stanhope; "you know the large bundle +Mrs. Howard's waiting-woman brought in, last night." +</p> + +<p> +"O, that can easily be put by," returned Martha. +</p> + +<p> +"But Hannah said the major wanted it in a month at longest." +</p> + +<p> +"Pshaw! that's a phrase of her own making. It sounds just like Hannah +Doliver's impertinent manner of expressing herself." +</p> + +<p> +Col. Malcome gave a sudden start as Miss Pinkerton carelessly uttered +these words. +</p> + +<p> +"What did you say was the name of Mrs. Howard's woman?" he demanded, with +an eagerness that astonished his hearers. +</p> + +<p> +"Hannah Doliver," repeated Miss Martha; "do you know her?" +</p> + +<p> +"No," said he, suddenly assuming an appearance of composure; "that is, I +think not; but I have frequently heard the name of Doliver before. How +long has she lived with Major Howard?" +</p> + +<p> +"A great many years, I believe," answered Martha. "People hereabouts +wonder at their keeping the ill-tempered, arbitrary hussy. They say she +rules the whole house save Miss Florence." +</p> + +<p> +"Ay; the young lady must have a spirit, then, I should judge, if she +defies such a virago as you describe this woman to be." +</p> + +<p> +"No more spirit than she should have," returned Miss Pinkerton. "A sweet, +beautiful girl is Florence Howard as ever the sun shone upon." +</p> + +<p> +"Ay, yes, indeed," interposed Mrs. Stanhope; "she used to call on us last +summer, when her embroidery teacher was away, to get Martha to assist her +in her tambour work; and I declare, I thought her the most lovable +creature I ever saw." +</p> + +<p> +"I am told these Howards do not mingle much in society," remarked the +colonel carelessly. +</p> + +<p> +"No," returned Mrs. S., "Mrs. Howard never goes out. She is a confirmed +invalid, and her disease inclines her to quiet and solitude. I don't +believe there's a woman in the village who has seen her in all the +seasons the family have passed at Summer Home." +</p> + +<p> +"O, yes!" said Miss Martha. "Dilly Danforth, the washerwoman, saw her +once. When she was there a year ago this spring, putting the house to +rights, she cleaned the paint and windows of Mrs. Howard's room, and thus +got a sight at the invalid. She told me she was a pale, thin woman, with +a distressed expression of countenance. Her hair was nearly white, and +she looked much older than her husband." +</p> + +<p> +Col. Malcome stood before a window with his back toward the ladies, +listening intently to their words. +</p> + +<p> +"I have understood that Miss Florence is attending school at the seminary +this term," remarked Mrs. Stanhope, at length; "do you know if it is so, +Col. Malcome?" +</p> + +<p> +"I think I heard Edith and Rufus say something to that effect," answered +he. +</p> + +<p> +"I hope she will drop in and see us some day," said Miss Pinkerton. "She +and Mrs. Edson are great favorites of mine, and I doubt not your pretty +daughter would become one also, if I should get acquainted with her. We +are but humble people, but should be very happy to receive a call from +Miss Edith." +</p> + +<p> +"Thank you," said the colonel; "'tis very possible she may some time +visit you, though she is rather timid and inclined to shrink from +strangers. Well, ladies, shall I leave my work?" he added, laying his +white hand on the package as he stepped toward the door. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," answered Miss Martha; "I will engage to have it ready in season +for you." +</p> + +<p> +He bowed and withdrew. Miss Pinkerton peeped through the curtain, as he +walked down the garden path, and thought she had never beheld so handsome +and elegant a specimen of the genus homo. +</p> + + + + +<p class="chapter"> +CHAPTER XV. +</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>"O, loveliest time! O, happiest day!</p> +<p>When the heart is unconscious, and knows not its sway;</p> +<p>When the favorite bird, or the earliest flower,</p> +<p>Or the crouching fawn's eyes make the joy of the hour,</p> +<p>And the spirits and steps are as light as the sleep</p> +<p>Which never has wakened to watch or to weep.</p> +<p>She bounds on the soft grass,—half woman, half child,</p> +<p>As gay as her antelope, almost as wild.</p> +<p>The bloom of her cheek is like that on her years.</p> +<p>She has never known pain—she has never known tears;</p> +<p>And thought has no grief, and no fear to impart;</p> +<p>The shadow of Eden is yet on her heart."</p></div></div> + +<p class="mid">L. E. L. +</p><br> + + +<p> +"Father!" said Florence Howard, the second day of her first vacation, +"had I not better study Latin next term?" +</p> + +<p> +"Latin!" answered he in a tone of surprise, "why should you study that?" +</p> + +<p> +"O, for discipline to my mind," returned Florence. +</p> + +<p> +"I think you will find the acquirement of French and Italian sufficient +discipline," said he. +</p> + +<p> +"O, but they are so easily learned! I want something more +difficult—something I have to study hard on." +</p> + +<p> +"Why, you would be running to me to get your lessons for you half the +time!" said her father, laughing. +</p> + +<p> +"No, I wouldn't," answered she, shaking her curly head cunningly. "Edgar +would assist me." +</p> + +<p> +"Edgar! and who is he?" inquired Major Howard. +</p> + +<p> +"Why, Edgar Lindenwood! You know him," returned she. +</p> + +<p> +"No, certainly I don't know anything about him," said her father. +</p> + +<p> +"Why, you have seen the tall boy with the morocco cap and light curls, +that used to walk to school with me last term!" said Florence, looking +earnestly in his face. +</p> + +<p> +"O, yes! I have seen him frequently," returned Major H. "What do you say +is his name?" +</p> + +<p> +"Edgar Lindenwood." +</p> + +<p> +"And where does he live?" +</p> + +<p> +"With his uncle." +</p> + +<p> +"And who is his uncle?" +</p> + +<p> +"The Hermit of the Cedars." +</p> + +<p> +"Ha, ha, ha!" laughed Major Howard. "And so, this young hermit is going +to teach you Latin, Miss Florence? Romantic, upon my word!" +</p> + +<p> +"Edgar is not a hermit!" said Florence, pouting her red lips and assuming +an air of dignity which vastly amused her father. "He is brave, +and bright, and handsome, and, our preceptor says, already a finer +scholar than many a graduate from the university." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, well; I cannot argue the merits of this favorite of yours, +Florence," said her father; "but I promise to give him a larger share of +my attention henceforth." +</p> + +<p> +"I wish you would, father," said Florence. "I may bring him home with me +from school some day,—may I not?" +</p> + +<p> +"No!" returned Major Howard. "I can notice him in the street." +</p> + +<p> +"But you cannot judge of him so far off," pursued Florence. "He looks +better the nearer you approach him." +</p> + +<p> +"I shall judge him best at a distance," remarked her father, moving +away. +</p> + +<p> +Florence did not exactly like the tone of voice in which he uttered +these last words; but she soon forgot all else in the contemplation of +studying Latin, and having Edgar's assistance in learning her lessons. +She had never in her life taken any note of time,—never felt it lag +heavily on her hands; but it appeared to her now that these interminable +days of vacation would never come to an end. She passed one of them with +Edith and Rufus Malcome, and this was by far the most insupportable of +any. "She loved Edith dearly," she said; "but could not endure the +childish prattle and frivolity of Rufus." +</p> + +<p> +He was six months older than Florence, and Edith had seen seventeen +summers, while Florence was only in her fifteenth; but she was so well +matured in manners and appearance as to seem the senior of the delicate, +retiring Edith. +</p> + +<p> +Col. Malcome paid her many courteous attentions during her visit, and +expressed an ardent hope that a friendship and intimacy might spring up +between her and his daughter. +</p> + +<p> +Florence said she should be delighted to form a companionship with +Edith. +</p> + +<p> +"We are located so near the seminary," said Col. Malcome, as she was +preparing to return home, and Rufus stood waiting to accompany her; +"while your father's mansion is so distant, that it will be very +convenient for you, on rough days, to come and pass the night with +Edith. Indeed, I should be highly gratified if you would make my house a +sort of second home, and come in, familiarly, every day, if you choose." +</p> + +<p> +Florence thanked him for his kindness, kissed Edith, and descended to +the street in company with Rufus. +</p> + +<p> +Col. Malcome approached the window and regarded the couple earnestly +till they passed beyond his view, while strange, dark, commingled +expressions passed over his face. Edith crept up to him and said softly, +"What troubles you, father?" +</p> + +<p> +He looked down sternly on her sweet, upturned face, and said in a tone +of strong command: +</p> + +<p> +"Edith, I desire you to cultivate the acquaintance of Florence Howard by +every means in your power." +</p> + +<p> +"I shall be glad to do so, father," answered she, with a look and tone +which deprecated his sternness. +</p> + +<p> +"'Tis well, then," said he, relaxing his brow and imprinting a kiss on +her soft cheek as he turned away and stepped forth upon the piazza. The +full moon was just rising in the east; the river rippled sweetly in the +distance, and the whippoorwills piped their sharp, shrill notes on the +hushed evening air. Suddenly he heard the garden-gate unclose, and, +turning, beheld Mrs. Edson and her husband approaching. Descending the +marble steps, he met them in the avenue, and, after a cordial +interchange of salutations, ushered them into the gas-lighted +drawing-room, where Edith, in a gossamer-like muslin, reclined on a +velvet ottoman. +</p> + +<p> +The evening passed pleasantly to all but Mr. Edson, who sat like a +pantomime in a play, staring and grinning at what he could not +understand or digest. Col. Malcome seemed, however, to take a malicious +pleasure in placing his guest in the most awkward positions, and showing +off his own superior grace and polish to the best advantage. If +anything, he rather overdone. But perhaps he thought with Mrs. Salsify +Mumbles in this case, "Better overshoot than fall short." Louise was +graceful and self-possessed as usual; and it must be confessed did not +appear very much disconcerted when Col. M. showed her husband in some +ridiculous light, or mercilessly uncurtained his crude, narrow-minded +opinions and ideas. +</p> + +<p> +Scorn and contempt for the man she had married were fast mastering all +kinder feelings she once had toward him. +</p> + + + + +<p class="chapter"> +CHAPTER XVI. +</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>"I bid you leave the girl, and think no more</p> +<p>About her from henceforth."</p></div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i14">"Ah, I can leave</p> +<p>Her, sire;—but to forget will be, I fear,</p> +<p>A thing beyond my power."</p></div></div><br> + + +<p> +It was midsummer, and the Hermit of the Cedars sat under his low piazza, +curiously constructed of the enwreathed boughs and branches of evergreen +trees. He held a volume in his attenuated hand, with the contents of +which, he seemed intently occupied. His appearance was melancholy in the +extreme. A pale, thin face;—deep sunken eyes, and a broad, high brow, +by sorrow seamed with furrows long and wide; for she doth ever dig with +deeper, harsher hand than time. A loose linen garment was wrapped around +his tall, gaunt form, and a white handkerchief tied over his head to +prevent the passing breezes from blowing his thin, straggling gray hair +about his features. +</p> + +<p> +So intent was he on the contents of his book that he did not notice the +approach of the cheerer of his solitude. Edgar came along the narrow +path with a step quicker and more impatient than was his wont, and there +was an expression on his fine, manly face which had something of +mortification and anger, but more of regret and sorrow. He threw his +satchel on the ground, and sat down at the hermit's feet, who laid aside +his volume, on beholding him in that position, and asked him if he was +fatigued or ill. +</p> + +<p> +"No," said the youth, "but I shall be glad when I am gone away from here +to the university." +</p> + +<p> +"Ah!" returned the hermit, "it is as I knew it would be when I placed +you at the seminary. Your desire for fame and honor has returned, and +you long to go forth in the great world and mingle in its +st[illegible]." +</p> + +<p> +"No," said Edgar, "I would rather live and die within the walls of this +hermitage, than ever go beyond them again; but I'm resolved I will not +do the foolish thing. I'll go forth, and if my life is spared, show +those who call me a foundling, and a wild cub of the woods, that I am +something more than they suppose me to be." +</p> + +<p> +"Who has dared apply such epithets to you, my boy?" exclaimed the +hermit, his pale cheeks glowing with anger. +</p> + +<p> +"Do you know Major Howard of 'Summer Home?'" asked Edgar. +</p> + +<p> +"That do I," answered the hermit; "and did he call you by these names?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," returned Edgar. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>He</i> talk of foundlings!" said the hermit. "Why did you not slap +him in the face, Edgar?" +</p> + +<p> +"The words did not come directly from him to me," said the youth, +wondering at his uncle's anger, which far exceeded his own. +</p> + +<p> +"Ay, through a third person you obtained them? and that was"—— +</p> + +<p> +"His daughter, Florence Howard." +</p> + +<p> +"Florence Howard!" repeated his uncle, "and what do you know of her?" +</p> + +<p> +"I have been to school with her four or five months, and have assisted +her in her Latin studies this summer," returned Edgar. +</p> + +<p> +"And shall never behold her face again!" said the hermit, in a tone of +angry vehemence, bringing his heavy sandalled foot down upon the wooden +sill with a violence that made Edgar start from his lounging posture on +the turf, and gaze with amazement upon the fierce workings of a face he +had never seen flushed by an angry emotion before. He feared his uncle +had suddenly gone mad, and stood indeterminate what course to pursue, +when the countenance before him changed, the eyes closed, and the hermit +fell heavily on the green sward in front of his door. Edgar, in his +alarm, lifted the prostrate form in his strong, young arms, and bore him +to the low, rough couch, which was their nightly resting-place. Then, +taking a bottle from a [illegible] shelf above the huge, black +fire-place, he poured its contents in a cup, and bathed the temples of +the deathly-looking face till the eyes opened with recognition, and the +lips moved, though inaudibly. +</p> + +<p> +He watched by the bed-side several hours, and at length the hermit rose +suddenly to his feet, and bade Edgar retire. He obeyed, and closed his +eyes, but not to sleep. Opening them after a while, he beheld his uncle +sitting before the table engaged in writing. Again the lids closed, and +he fell into a light drowse, during which Florence Howard flitted before +him in countless variety of forms. When again he looked around he was +alone. The long summer twilight had deepened into evening, and Edgar +rose and lighted a lamp. On the table he discovered a small, folded +billet, addressed to him. He sank on his knees, opened it, and read. +Various were the expressions that flitted over his features as he did +so. When he had finished he refolded it carefully, and, drawing a bunch +of keys from his pocket, unlocked a small box which sat on the table, +placed the letter within, then relocked it and returned the keys to his +pocket. +</p> + +<p> +Then he extinguished the lamp and sat down in the window-nook to his +watch of the stars. +</p> + +<p> +But his thoughts were different from what they once were when he gazed +on their glistening faces. +</p> + +<p> +His soul-pinions had kissed the earth, and become fouled by contact with +a grosser element; and heavy with a weltering weight of woe, that they +could not soar aloft and hover over the casements of angelic homes, to +rest at last on the glory-bright hills of heaven. +</p> + + + + +<p class="chapter"> +CHAPTER XVII. +</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2">"I only know their dream was vain,</p> +<p class="i4">And that they woke to find it past,</p> +<p class="i2">And when by chance they met again,</p> +<p class="i4">It was not as they parted last.</p> +<p class="i2">His was not faith that lightly dies;</p> +<p class="i4">For truth and love as clearly shone</p> +<p class="i2">In the blue heaven of his soft eyes</p> +<p class="i4">As the dark midnight of her own.</p> +<p class="i2">And therefore heaven alone can tell</p> +<p class="i4">What are his living visions now,</p> +<p class="i2">But hers—the eye can read too well</p> +<p class="i4">The language written on her brow."</p></div></div> + +<p class="mid"><span class="sc">Phebe Carey</span>. +</p><br> + +<p> +The yearly examination and exhibition of Cedar Hill Seminary was +approaching, and teachers and pupils were busied with preparations in +order to pass the ordeal creditably to themselves and to the +institution. +</p> + +<p> +Prominent among the list of performers stood the name of Edgar +Lindenwood, often in juxtaposition with that of Florence Howard. Since +the scene in the hermit's hut, Edgar, as commanded by his uncle, had +studiously avoided Florence, and she, for a still longer period, had +evinced a certain distance and reserve toward him. Edgar's knowledge of +her father's dislike might be sufficient cause to part him from her, but +it could by no means justify his growing intercourse with Edith Malcome. +</p> + +<p> +As the time approached for the exhibition, Florence asked her father's +permission to absent herself entirely and remain at home. Maj. Howard +thought she had better attend, as she had been to school several terms; +but she said she felt too languid to take part in the exercises, and +thus obtained the excuse of her indulgent father. +</p> + +<p> +Edgar's quick, impassioned nature regarded her absence as a direct +insult to himself, for in all the parts assigned her, she would be +brought on the stage in company with him, and frequently obliged to hold +single converse. If this opinion needed further confirmation it was +added, when she appeared at the Scholars' Levee, held on the evening of +the exhibition, in elegant dress and dashing spirits, with Rufus Malcome +for a partner. +</p> + +<p> +They passed each other in the dance without a token of recognition. +Edgar attached himself to Edith for the larger part of the evening. +After the first two or three cotillons he did not care to join them; and +Edith, being too delicate to bear the excitement, they roamed through +the hall, conversing together of the events of the exhibition, or +mingling among groups of the village people who had assembled by +invitation to partake in the festive scene. +</p> + +<p> +"Ha, my little fairy!" whispered Mrs. Edson in the ear of Edith, as she +was sauntering past on the arm of Lindenwood, unmindful of her friend's +proximity; "are you so far skyward you can't see poor Louise? Introduce +me to your princely gallant, an' it please you." +</p> + +<p> +Edith turned and presented Edgar to Mrs. Edson, who instantly found them +a place in the group around her. +</p> + +<p> +"This scene brings vividly before me my happy school days," she +remarked, tears welling up to her beautiful eyes, which she dashed +hurriedly away, exclaiming, "but I must not begin to prose about myself +when I was young, lest I drive you all away by my tedious recitals." +</p> + +<p> +"Mr. Lindenwood," said she, turning to Edgar, "though we have never met +before, your vivid personations on the stage to-day have caused you to +seem more like an old friend than a comparative stranger." +</p> + +<p> +Edgar expressed his pleasure that his poor performances had met her +approbation, and also that she condescended to recognize him as a +friend. +</p> + +<p> +"What a graceful creature is Florence Howard!" continued Mrs. Edson, as +the fair girl whirled past her in the dance. "Edith, your brother should +consider himself most fortunate in securing the most brilliant lady in +the room for a partner; no disparagement to your charms, my dear," she +added, leaning over and bestowing a kiss on the soft cheek of the +blushing girl. "You know what I think of you, darling. The spirit of +beauty is everywhere, says the poet. She assumes the largest variety of +types and forms, and, verily, she has given her most dangerous one to +Florence Howard. She is the brilliant dahlia, the pride of the gay +parterre; but my Edith is the modest daisy blooming in some sheltered +nook. The stormy winds shall rend the one from its lofty stalk and +scatter its wealth of purple leaves o'er the miry earth, while dews and +sunbeams kiss the modest plant that blooms in the lowly vale. Is it not +so, Mr. Lindenwood?" she asked, as, pausing, she encountered his gaze +fixed earnestly on her face. +</p> + +<p> +"I don't know," he said; "that is, I have not considered the subject. +Edith, I think the party are retiring," he added, turning his eyes to +several disjointed groups; "remain with Mrs. Edson a few moments and I +will return to you." +</p> + +<p> +As he entered the ladies' dressing room, he saw Florence standing alone +by the window, in the very spot where they had often stood in the +interim of recitations, and studied their lessons from the same book. He +thought he would give the world to know she was thinking of those times +now. Approaching softly he stood near her in silence a few moments. +</p> + +<p> +"O, Florence!" said he, at length, in a low, deep tone, tremulous with +intense feeling and tenderness. Was there not enough of passionate +devotion breathed in that one word to convince her of his eternal, +unchanging affection? +</p> + +<p> +What poor, weak simpletons are we, to pine and languish for words, where +looks and tones are infinitely more expressive! Some people affirm that +"actions speak louder than words." But we can't say much in favor of +those, because, as far as we know, people in love invariably act like +fools. +</p> + +<p> +Florence turned at Edgar's adjuration, and he saw, by the moonlight, two +great tear-drops dimming her starry eyes. He was about to extend his +hand when Rufus Malcome rushed into the room, calling her name. Changing +his purpose, he said, in a light conventional tone, "Have you been happy +to night?" +</p> + +<p> +"O, very!" answered she, with a gay laugh, which echoed in his ear long +after she had taken the arm of Rufus and tripped lightly away. +</p> + +<p> +When Edgar returned to Edith, he found Col. Malcome in lively +conversation with Mrs. Edson. Florence and Rufus had disappeared, and +Edith signifying her wish to retire, he led her from the hall and +escorted her home. He found Florence in Col. Malcome's parlor sitting on +a sofa with Rufus at her side. +</p> + +<p> +"Come in, Lindenwood," said he; "here's room for us all." +</p> + +<p> +"Thank you," returned Edgar. "I have a long walk before me, and must not +tarry." +</p> + +<p> +"O, stay with us to night," said Rufus. +</p> + +<p> +"We should be pleased to have you remain, if agreeable," remarked Edith, +timidly. +</p> + +<p> +"It would be very agreeable," said Edgar, politely, "but my absence +would alarm my uncle." +</p> + +<p> +"O, he wants to be off to his hermitage!" laughed Rufus, coarsely; "let +him go. You will stay, won't you, Florence?" +</p> + +<p> +"If Edith invites me," returned she. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, I do," said Edith quickly. +</p> + +<p> +"Then the point is settled," remarked Florence. +</p> + +<p> +"Good-night to you all," said Edgar, moving hastily toward the door. +</p> + +<p> +Scarce ten minutes had elapsed, after his departure, when Florence rose +and said, "Now I am going." +</p> + +<p> +"Why, you just promised to remain all night," said Rufus, in a tone of +undisguised disappointment. +</p> + +<p> +"No," said she; "I made no promise, and I am going." +</p> + +<p> +"Then I'll go with you," returned Rufus, seizing his hat. +</p> + +<p> +"No," said Col. Malcome, suddenly entering the apartment. "With Miss +Howard's consent, I'll be her escort home to-night." +</p> + +<p> +Florence said she should be honored by his company. So bidding +good-night to Edith and Rufus, she took his proffered arm and descended +to the street. +</p> + +<p> +"How have you enjoyed the ball to-night?" inquired he, as they walked on +together. +</p> + +<p> +"Very well," answered she, briefly. +</p> + +<p> +"This young Lindenwood, that burrows with the strange chap they call the +'Hermit of the Cedars;' you are acquainted with him, I believe." +</p> + +<p> +"He has attended school at the seminary, since I commenced to go," +answered Florence, as calmly as she was able. +</p> + +<p> +"He has been paying Edith some attentions of late," continued the +colonel, in a careless tone; "do you suppose he really cares for her?" +</p> + +<p> +"I don't know," answered Florence; and her voice trembled in spite of +her efforts to steady it. +</p> + +<p> +"Of course you don't know," the colonel went on, still in that cold, +indifferent tone; "I merely asked what you thought?" +</p> + +<p> +"I never thought anything about it in my life," said Florence, in a +choking voice. +</p> + +<p> +"That's rather strange," returned he. "I have thought of it several +times lately;—but here we are at your father's gate. Present my +regards, and say I would be happy to receive a call from him whenever he +is so disposed." +</p> + +<p> +Florence bowed good-evening to her gallant, and hurried to her own +apartment. +</p> + +<p> +The night was warm. A waning moon lighted the eastern terrace, and, not +feeling disposed to sleep, she stepped through a window that opened to +the floor, and, leaning against a pillar, stood silently gazing over the +gardens and grounds below. +</p> + +<p> +She had not been standing long thus when she beheld the figure of a man +moving slowly along the gravelled walks, pausing frequently and fixing +an earnest gaze on the windows of the apartment occupied by her mother. +She grew alarmed, and was about descending the stairs to arouse her +father, when she heard the hall door open softly, and saw the figure of +a woman stealing down the garden path. She recognized the dark form +instantly as that of Hannah Doliver. The man met her and the two went +into a green-house. After an hour the woman reappeared, and retraced her +steps to the mansion, but the man she saw no more. Securing her windows, +Florence retired, resolving to impart to her father a history of what +she had seen. +</p> + +<p> +When, she did so, he only laughed at her and said he supposed it was +some enamored knight come to pay his devoirs to the fair lady of his +love, and counselled her to say no more of the matter, as it would +needlessly irritate Hannah to know her secret was discovered. +</p> + + + + +<p class="chapter"> +CHAPTER XVIII. +</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>"The world hath used me well, and now at length</p> +<p>In peace and quietness I sit me down</p> +<p>To feed upon the fruits of my hard toils.</p> +<p>Ambition doth no more distract my breast,—</p> +<p>I've reached the height my spirit strove to gain;</p> +<p>Here will I rest, and watch life glide away."</p></div></div><br> + + +<p> +It is quite time for us to call on Mrs. Salsify Mumbles again. We fear +the good lady, who is rather sensitive on such points, has felt +neglected ere this; but we hope not, and, as her mansion heaves in view, +we are convinced that matters of more importance than visits from our +humble selves, have engaged our old friend's attention. +</p> + +<p> +The second story has actually gone up, and the piazza spreads its white +palings along the sides of Mr. Salsify's dwelling. The pasteboard sign +of "Mr. Theophilus Shaw, Boot & Shoe Maker," is no longer seen swinging +from the bed-room window, but a new sign stretches its sublime length +over the doors of Mr. Salsify's old grocery, announcing, in staring +black and yellow, to the inhabitants of Wimbledon, that "Mumbles, Shaw & +Co., wholesale dealers in pork, cheese, onions, dried apples, sausages, +and verdigris, continue at the old stand, No. 9 Temple street, where +they will entertain the trading public in a genteel and finished +manner." +</p> + +<p> +Thus it appears Mr. Salsify's high hopes are at length realized. Most +fortunate man! He has "risen in his profession" to the topmost summit of +his earthly ambition. +</p> + +<p> +Happy will it be for him if he remains content with his present +elevation, and goes not, like too many restless mortals, clambering to a +higher point, only to fall back, on some adverse day, into the slough of +ill-luck and despondency. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Salsify sits in her parlor making caps for her thumb, at least we +should judge so, from their surprisingly small dimensions; and Mary +Madeline is nowhere to be seen. But Dilly Danforth is in the kitchen +bending over a great wash-tub, pale and sunken-eyed as ever. Now that we +look at this woman attentively, it strikes us she is wonderfully like +that lank-visaged man, who dwells in the lonely forest hut, the "Hermit +of the Cedars," as he is called. But then it may be only the resemblance +which all the sons and daughters of affliction have in common. 'Tis not +likely 'tis more than that. And gazing on Willie, who stands over the +great arches, replenishing the fires, and at intervals poking the white +heaps of linen beneath the fierce bubbling suds with a long wooden +shovel, we fancy for a moment there's something about him like Edgar +Lindenwood. Of course, he is not so large or so well-dressed; +nevertheless, he is greatly improved since we last saw him; and there is +something in the turn of the head, which is certainly finely shaped, +though placed on the shoulders of a beggar boy; and something in the set +of the rusty cloth cap over the bright, sunny curls, that reminds us of +the tall, graceful lad we used to see winding his way over the hills to +the large, white seminary. But then, a great many boys have +pretty-formed heads, and bright, curly hair; and, should we attempt, no +doubt we could find a large number with more points of resemblance than +we have been able to make out between Edgar Lindenwood and Willie +Danforth. We are full of conceits. Sometimes Edith Malcome is like +Florence Howard, and Rufus' glistening, coal-black hair reminds us of +Hannah Doliver, while the handsome colonel has a look we cannot fathom, +and from which we turn with a creeping shudder. +</p> + +<p> +'Tis quite astonishing what strange fancies possess people at times. +</p> + +<p> +While we have been indulging in ours, Mrs. Mumbles has put away those +impossible caps, and come into the kitchen to see how matters and things +are progressing, and just as she begins to tell Aunt Dilly, that she +"wants her to get through washing in time to scour down the pantry +shelves and scrub the oil-cloth on the dining-room floor," in runs Miss +Susan Pimble, and says, "Mamma wants Mrs. Danforth to come and do a +little light work for her, to-morrow; for she has got to go to Goslin +Flats to attend a great mass convention, and can't stop to do it +herself. She will pay Aunt Dilly well, if she will oblige her. Garrison +has been sick—Peggy Nonce is away on a visit to her son, who has +recently been married, and mamma's public duties and household affairs +have proved too heavy for her shoulders," etc., etc. +</p> + +<p> +Susy ran through a long rigmarole, with a volubility worthy the daughter +of a fluent public speaker. +</p> + +<p> +We hasten away lest our mania for discovering resemblances should detect +one between Mrs. Salsify Mumbles and pert Susy Pimble. +</p> + + + + +<p class="chapter"> +CHAPTER XIX. +</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2">"Ay, little do those features wear</p> +<p class="i2">The shade of sin,—the soil of care;</p> +<p class="i2">The hair is parted o'er a brow</p> +<p class="i2">Open and white as mountain-snow,</p> +<p class="i2">And clusters there in many a ring,</p> +<p class="i2">With sun and summer glistening.</p> +<p class="i2">Yet something on that brow has wrought</p> +<p class="i2">A moment's cast of angry thought."</p></div></div><br> + + +<p> +In an arbor of Major Howard's elegant garden, the moonlight shimmering +its rich, clustering vines with silver, and the night-breezes murmuring +in low, musical voices among the dark green leaves, sat a man of +commanding aspect and handsome features. Light auburn hair, closely +trimmed, lay in short, thick masses of wavy curls around his high, pale +brow. His mien and manner indicated the well-bred gentleman. A small, +dark figure crouched beside him. It was Hannah Doliver. +</p> + +<p> +"We meet again at last," said the man, after a considerable silence. His +voice was low and deep, and the woman trembled as she answered, +</p> + +<p> +"I marvel how you have discovered me." +</p> + +<p> +"Few things escape my knowledge which it subserves my interest to know," +returned he. "What in the name of all the fiends possessed you to enter +the service of Tom Howard?" +</p> + +<p> +"A lone, forsaken female finds shelter where she can," whined the woman. +</p> + +<p> +"O, don't babble in that hypocritical tone!" said the man. "I did not +leave you so destitute; and I took the child off your hands that no +incumbrance might fetter your footsteps." +</p> + +<p> +"Fiend!" exclaimed Hannah. "You shall not talk to me thus. What have you +done with my boy?" +</p> + +<p> +"I have done well by him," answered the man. "He has been reared as a +gentleman. No stain has ever been suspected on his birth." +</p> + +<p> +"Where is he?" asked she, in a voice trembling with emotion. +</p> + +<p> +"He is near you. I left him but an hour ago, well and happy." +</p> + +<p> +"Near me!" said the woman almost wildly. "It cannot be—you lie to me, +Herbert!" +</p> + +<p> +"By the heavens above, I utter the solemn truth!" returned the man. +</p> + +<p> +"What name does he bear?" +</p> + +<p> +The man bowed his tall form and whispered in her ear. She sprang to her +feet, paced hurriedly to and fro down the little alcove, and at length +threw herself on her knees and exclaimed, +</p> + +<p> +"O, let me see him! Can you be so cruel as to withhold the child from +his mother's right?" +</p> + +<p> +"It rests with you to decide whether you see him or no," said the man, +wholly unmoved by her distress and emotion. Swear to keep my presence +here a secret, and do my bidding in all things, and you may see your boy +when you choose." +</p> + +<p> +"I swear!" answered the woman, frantically. +</p> + +<p> +"Tell me first why you are here serving Tom Howard's wife?" +</p> + +<p> +"I am not serving his wife." +</p> + +<p> +"Who then?" +</p> + +<p> +"His sister." +</p> + +<p> +"His sister!" exclaimed the man, now evincing strong emotion. "And does +she live?" +</p> + +<p> +"She lives; and lives to palm herself off on the world as the wife of +her own brother." +</p> + +<p> +"What iniquity!" said the man. The woman burst into a low laugh. +</p> + +<p> +"Why do you laugh?" demanded he, fiercely. +</p> + +<p> +"Because iniquity comes so prettily from your lips," replied she in a +sarcastic tone. +</p> + +<p> +"Take care, woman!" said he. "Remember you are in my power." +</p> + +<p> +The little dark figure trembled and was silent. +</p> + +<p> +"I wonder she would receive you again into her service," remarked the +man at length in an absorbed tone. +</p> + +<p> +"Fear is a strong motive. I threatened to reveal her deception to the +public." +</p> + +<p> +"Ay, you have some skill and tact, I find!" said he, rising. "Now +remember, when I wish to see your mistress, you are to gain me an +entrance to her." +</p> + +<p> +"What do you want to see her for?" asked the woman. "I believe a sight +of you would throw her into fits." +</p> + +<p> +"It is none of your business why I wish to see her," said he. "But mind, +you do not look on your boy unless you implicitly obey all my commands." +Here he stooped and whispered again in her ear. +</p> + +<p> +"I hate the girl!" she said, after he had ceased speaking and stood +gazing down on her, twirling his velvet cap carelessly in his hand. +</p> + +<p> +"But you would like to see your boy so well married," remarked he. +</p> + +<p> +"'Twould be a sweet revenge," she said in a chuckling tone. He turned +to depart. +</p> + +<p> +"Herbert!" she called, softly. +</p> + +<p> +"What do you wish?" said he, pausing. +</p> + +<p> +The woman hesitated, and at length said, "The girl—her child I mean; is +she——?" +</p> + +<p> +Again the man whispered in her ear. "None can say," he added aloud, +"that I have not been a kind parent to my children." +</p> + +<p> +"I'm glad there's some virtue in you," said the woman, turning toward +the quiet mansion that stood in almost palace-like magnificence in the +midst of the beautiful grounds that surrounded it on all sides. The man +lingered behind, and finally left the garden by a path lying in an +opposite direction from the one by which he had entered. He bent his +steps rapidly in the direction of the river. Either the warmth of the +night or his own emotions oppressed him; for, as he gained its banks, he +slackened his pace, drew off his cap, and loosened his collar. With +arms folded across his chest, he moved slowly along, like one intensely +absorbed in some dark and intricate train of thought. Sometimes he +muttered to himself, and made strange gestures, or tossed his head with +a confident air, as though he saw onward to the success of some plan he +concerted. So occupied was he in his own thoughts, that he never saw the +tall, gaunt figure of a man, crouching in the shadow of a small linden +tree, that stood on the bank of the river, nearly opposite Dilly +Danforth's wretched abode, although he passed in so close contact as to +brush against the little bundle of sticks the unknown held in his hand, +while his deep, sunken eyes glared on the passer till they seemed nearly +starting from their sockets. +</p> + +<p> +"'Tis he!" murmured the gazer, when the abstracted one was beyond the +sound of his voice. "I must see where he goes;" and, stealing +noiselessly to the door of Dilly's abode, he placed the bundle of sticks +on her sill, and slowly followed the receding figure. +</p> + + + + +<p class="chapter"> +CHAPTER XX. +</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2">"And the clear depths of her dark eye</p> +<p class="i2">Were bright with troubled brilliancy,</p> +<p class="i2">Yet the lips drooped as with the tear,</p> +<p class="i2">Which might oppress, but not appear.</p> +<p class="i2">Her curls, with all their sunny glow,</p> +<p class="i2">Were braided o'er an aching brow;</p> +<p class="i2">But well she knew how many sought</p> +<p class="i2">To gaze upon her secret thought;—</p> +<p class="i2">And love is proud—she might not brook</p> +<p class="i2">That others on her heart should look."</p></div></div><br> + + + +<p> +One pleasant autumn evening a social group were assembled in Mr. Leroy +Edson's tasteful parlor. A tall, argand lamp on a marble table, shed its +mild, ethereal light over the rich furniture. A bright fire glowed in +the marble grate, and in the genial atmosphere of her own creating, +young Mrs. Edson moved, a thing of grace and beauty. She wore a robe of +emerald Genoa velvet, with an open bodice, laced over a chemisette of +fine-wrought Mechlin lace. Broad, drooping Pagoda sleeves revealed her +white arms encircled by quaintly-fashioned jet bracelets. Her guests +were not numerous, but select. Col. Malcome and his family were most +prominent among the number. Florence Howard was there, attended by +Rufus, and Edgar Lindenwood in company with Edith. Jenny Andrews, with +no less a personage than our quondam, roguish friend, Dick Giblet, +shop-boy of Mr. Salsify Mumbles' grocery; now Mr. Richard Giblet, of the +firm of Edson, Giblet & Co. A very respectable appearance Dick made, +too, for he was a quick, sprightly young fellow, albeit somewhat +over-fond of a mischievous joke; but this he would outgrow in time +probably. Amy Seaton, sedate and modest as ever, with laughing Charlie +for her beau, and several others, among whom we might mention Miss +Martha Pinkerton, made up the little party. +</p> + +<p> +Edith looked fragile and sweet as ever in a dress of azure thibet cloth, +her light hair hanging in clusters of wavy curls over her small +shoulders. She leaned gracefully on the arm of Lindenwood, and looked in +his face with a gentle, artless expression of countenance. +</p> + +<p> +Florence, in her crimson cashmere, and dark, massy ringlets, looked a +shade paler than when we last saw her, but more queenly and brilliant, +if possible. +</p> + +<p> +There were many points of resemblance between her and Louise Edson. Both +were endowed with superior mental and intellectual powers; both +accomplished and beautiful; but there was at times a gentleness in +Florence's manner, a dreamy light in the far depths of her large, hazel +eyes, that indicated less firmness and strength of character, with +tenderer susceptibilities. Perhaps life's trials would sooner unnerve +her spirit. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Edson was not present, nor was it necessary he should be, to enhance +the enjoyment of his gifted wife. He was, in fact, very much the same +sort of an appendage in his elegant mansion that Mrs. Pimble averred her +husband to be in his,—"a mere crank to keep the machine in motion." Not +that Mrs. Edson monopolized her husband's sphere, as did the masculine +Mrs. Pimble. By no means. She appeared to give her lord full sway and +sceptre in his own household, and the good-natured man thought never +husband had so obedient, condescending partner as blessed his bosom. +Consummate actress, to conquer where she seemed to yield, and use her +advantages so skilfully that the vanquished felt himself the victor. +Mrs. Pimble stormed and blustered, but she exercised not half the power +over her household that Louise Edson swayed by a soft word or placid +smile. +</p> + +<p> +But we forget our party, which waxes merry as the evening progresses, +warmed by the genial influences of social intercourse. Col. Malcome and +Mrs. Edson discussed the merits of different authors; Lindenwood +modestly joined them, and Florence dropped an occasional word. Edith sat +silent. Rufus yawned, and at length commenced a game of forfeits with +Dick Giblet, over which he soon grew so boisterous, that his father +reproved him sternly for a violation of the rules of politeness. The +youth's brow flushed with sudden anger, and for the remainder of the +evening he sat apart from the company. When the party dispersed he did +not come forward to claim Florence, and she fell a second time to the +care of Col. Malcome. Edgar escorted Edith, and the couples went +different ways to reach their destinations. Edgar took the street by the +river, and Col. M. that leading past the seminary. The latter had much +the longer walk; but Edith, fragile and delicate, complained of fatigue, +ere they had proceeded far, and Edgar proposed she should rest awhile on +the trunk of a fallen tree by the river's brink. She sat down, and he, +after a few moments, assumed a seat at her side. Her veil was thrown +off, and her small silk hat had fallen back from her head, revealing in +full her girlish features and wavy, auburn curls. Edgar was gazing on +the beautiful face, when suddenly a footstep met his ear, and, turning, +he beheld his uncle, the hermit, standing before them, staring wildly +upon Edith; who, as soon as she discovered the strange-looking being, +uttered a faint scream and sunk on Edgar's bosom. "Don't be alarmed," +said he, whispering in her ear; "this man will not harm you,"—and then +lifting his head to address his uncle, and inquire what brought him +there, so far from home at that late hour, he found the hermit had +disappeared. +</p> + +<p> +Calming Edith's alarm as well as he was able, he escorted her home, and +then set off for the hut in the forest, pondering, as he went, upon the +event of the evening, and wondering what could be the cause of the +fierce and ireful expression which disfigured the usually placid face of +his uncle, as he gazed so fixedly on Edith. It reminded him of the +violent passion evinced in regard to his intercourse with Florence +Howard. He knew the recluse had experienced a severe disappointment in +early life, and concluded this had tended to sour his mind toward the +whole female race, and caused him to look with angry distrust upon the +most gentle and lovely of the sex. In no other way could he account for +the repugnance manifested by his uncle toward his friendship and +acquaintance with both Florence and Edith. Thus ruminating, he reached +the forest habitation to find all dark and gloomy. The hermit had not +returned to his hut. +</p> + +<p> +Col. Malcome lingered a moment as he escorted Florence to the door of +her father's mansion, and, as he did so, Major Howard stepped forth, +rather suddenly. Florence presented him to the colonel, and the two +gentlemen shook hands cordially. +</p> + +<p> +"I have frequently desired to call on you and form your acquaintance, +Col. Malcome," said the major; "but frequent absences from home, and the +delicate health of my wife, have prevented me hitherto." +</p> + +<p> +A slight, cynical smile flitted over the colonel's face at these latter +words, but it was not observed in the obscure light of evening, and he +answered, politely, that he had often desired an acquaintance with the +major, and hoped that now their children had established a friendly +intercourse, the parents might soon follow the example. +</p> + +<p> +Major Howard expressed a wish that it might be so, and Col. Malcome, +bowing gracefully, retired. +</p> + +<p> +Florence, after inquiring for her mother, and learning she was +comfortable as usual, ascended to her room, made fast the door, and drew +forth her journal, which was the dearest companion of her lonely hours, +the receptacle of her most treasured thoughts, and safety-valve for all +unuttered griefs and hidden sorrows. +</p> + +<p> +She had scarcely touched her gold-tipped pen to the virgin page, when a +soft knock on the door displaced her train of thought. +</p> + +<p> +"Father?" said she putting her lips close to the lock, for he was the +only one from whom she could expect a call at that late hour. There was +no answer. She hesitated a moment, and then opened the door. Hannah +Doliver slid in. +</p> + +<p> +Florence stood still, gazing with astonishment on the little wiry form, +as it wormed around the apartment, touching the books, and giving sudden +pulls at the curtains and bed drapery. She had never seen Hannah over +her threshold before, and wondered what a visit from her might import. +</p> + +<p> +"I came to see if you wanted anything, Miss Florence," said the woman, +at length, fixing her twinkling eyes on the fair girl's face. +</p> + +<p> +"No!" said Florence, in an impatient tone; "what should I want at this +hour, but to be alone?" +</p> + +<p> +"O, I'm not going to intrude upon you but a moment," returned Hannah. "I +thought, as you had been out late and 'twas rather cold, you might want +a fire lighted in your room, or a cup of warm tea, or something; so I +ran up to see." Florence grew more and more astonished. "Have you +enjoyed yourself this evening?" asked Hannah. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," answered Florence briefly. +</p> + +<p> +"I am glad to hear it," returned the woman. "This Col. Mer—— what is +his name?" she paused and asked abruptly. +</p> + +<p> +"Malcome," said Florence. +</p> + +<p> +"O, yes! I'm bad at remembering strange names. Well, this Col. Malcome +has got some fine children, has he not?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," returned Florence; "his daughter is a beautiful girl." +</p> + +<p> +"And his son?" +</p> + +<p> +"Is a loggerhead." +</p> + +<p> +At these words, a furious anger, flashed over Hannah's face, and, +glaring fiercely on Florence for a moment, she darted from the room and +slammed the door behind her. The young girl turned the key, saying, "I'm +glad to be rid of her hateful presence. What possessed her to come here +is more than I can tell." And in the surprise this unusual visit +occasioned, she retired and forgot her journal. +</p> + + + + +<p class="chapter"> +CHAPTER XXI. +</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2">"A mien that neither seeks nor shuns</p> +<p class="i4">The homage scattered in her way;</p> +<p class="i2">A love that hath few favored ones,</p> +<p class="i4">And yet for all can work and pray.</p> +<p class="i2">A smile wherein each mortal reads</p> +<p class="i2">The very sympathy he needs;</p> +<p class="i4">An eye like to a mystic book,</p> +<p class="i2">Of lays that bard or prophet sings,</p> +<p class="i4">Which keepeth for the holiest look</p> +<p class="i2">Of holiest love, its deepest things."</p></div></div><br> + + + +<p> +What an impetus was given to the cause of Woman's Rights, when the first +Bloomer stepped upon the stage! With what tremendous huzzas of triumph +and victory did the whole assaulting sisterhood mount the breaches thus +made in the great bulwarks of man's tyranny and despotism; infuriately +calling on every woman throughout the length and breadth of the nation +to rise in the might of her slumbering strength, make her petticoats +into pillars of defiance, and hurl them on the weak, unguarded outposts, +till the whole tottering fabric should go down with a crash to rise no +more. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Pimble and her coadjutors commenced rolling the ball of reform +with increased velocity. Mass meetings, of the most boisterous and +denunciatory character, were held through the community. It appeared a +war was commenced which threatened to cease only with the extermination +of the masculine portion of Wimbledon. Mr. Salsify Mumbles, though as +brave as most men in common encounters, was afraid to step outside his +door lest his unmentionables should be seized by some of the new-fledged +manhood, and a petticoat tied to his coat-tail. Even the green damask +curtains and cushion-coverings that adorned the high, old-fashioned +pulpit of the village church, were voted as ostentatious and calculated +to foster luxurious idleness in the pastor; and a committee appointed +and authorized to tear them from their places and sew them into bloomers +for the comfort of the lady-lecturers, whose callings exposed them to +the most inclement weathers. And so green-legged Philanthropy stalked +through Wimbledon; but it never laid an armful of wood on the sill of +Dilly Danforth's humble abode, though rough blew the storms of the +inclement winter; nor did it put a cap over Master Willie's curly locks, +or sew a charitable patch on the elbow of his ragged jacket. Because it +was philanthropy in the wider sense, which sought to relieve in the sum +of thousands—not of units. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Dr. Simcoe figured not so largely among the sisterhood of reformers +as she would have done had she not been encumbered by "Simcoe's +children," who were two of the most ill-natured, uncompromising +offshoots of barbarism that ever tormented a meek, unoffending woman. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Lawson thought some reformer should arise to fill the place so +nearly vacated by the persecuted lady, and fixed upon Mrs. Edson as her +successor. +</p> + +<p> +So, on a day, Mrs. Lawson, in green damask bloomers, black overcoat, and +deer-skin gloves, appeared on the steps of Mrs. Edson's mansion, and +gave a herculean pull at the door-bell which brought the master of the +house instanter, with staring eyes, to answer the pealing summons. "I +believe Mrs. Edson resides here," said the lady-reformist, looking +loftily upon the man, who was evidently very much struck with his +visitor's personal equipments. +</p> + +<p> +"She does," answered he, at length. +</p> + +<p> +"I have come to hold a conversation with her," said Mrs. Lawson, +stamping the snow from her boots, and proceeding toward the open door of +the sitting-room. +</p> + +<p> +Louise rose as she entered, glanced at the strange figure, then at her +husband, and then back to the figure again, with an amusing expression +of wonder on her beautiful features. +</p> + +<p> +"I do not know this—this person's name," said he, at length. +</p> + +<p> +"Lawson—Mrs. Portentia Lawson!" said the lady-reformist, laying her +walking-stick on the piano, and unbuttoning her over-coat. "I am +actively engaged in the benevolent enterprises of the day, and have come +to obtain your aid and coöperation, madam." Here she made a low +inclination toward Louise. +</p> + +<p> +"My wife does not meddle in such matters," said Mr. Edson, simply. "I +pay a stated sum yearly toward the support of the gospel, and give as +much as people in general to the missionary and Bible societies." +</p> + +<p> +"It is nothing to me," said Mrs. Lawson, turning sharply upon the +speaker, "what you give to support the gospel, or to endow Bible +societies. I have nothing to do with such milk-sop organizations, or the +donkeys that draggle at their heels. Other and loftier objects engage my +attention and claim my powers. My business is not with you, sir! It is +with the woman who condescends to acknowledge you as her husband!" +Having delivered herself of the preceding harangue, Mrs. Lawson turned +her attention to Louise, and vouchsafed no further notice of Mr. Edson, +who soon slunk out of the room and returned to his counter. +</p> + +<p> +"I suppose you are not wholly ignorant of the reform the more talented +of your sex are making efforts to effect in the social condition of +Wimbledon," remarked the nimble-tongued Mrs. Lawson to her fair auditor, +who was sitting in a low rocking-chair before the glowing grate, with +her tiny, slippered-feet poised on the fender. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes!" answered she, purposely ignorant. "I am confined at home by my +duties as a wife, and know very little of what is passing around me." +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Lawson proceeded to give a detailed account of the labors of a +small band of enfranchised females for the liberation of their enslaved +and suffering sisters, whose weakness and timidity had hitherto +prevented their rising and throwing off the yoke of the oppressor, man. +So eloquently did she rehearse her tale, so still and patient was her +listener, that she felt confident of gaining a new coädjutor in the +ranks of female reform. As she finished her recital, she directed a +sharp, piercing glance toward Mrs. Edson, whose calm, clear eyes and +placid face evinced no disturbing emotions. +</p> + +<p> +"Will you join our ranks?" demanded Mrs. Lawson, "and aid us in rending +the fetters forged on woman's wrists by the tyrant man?" +</p> + +<p> +"No!" said Louise, in a quiet but determined tone. +</p> + +<p> +"Then you do not believe in Woman's Rights!" said Mrs. Lawson, half her +enthusiasm falling off and leaving her coarse features blank and bare. +</p> + +<p> +"O, yes!" answered Louise, her face brightening as she spoke, "I believe +in Woman's Rights with all my heart and soul. Yet not in crowds, and +camps, and forums, where swarming multitudes are jostling to and fro; +and brawls, and shouts, and loud harangues make tumult in the air, do I +believe she finds her proper sphere. Not in halls of legislation, or +among empannelled juries, or yet within the sacred desk, would I behold +the form of woman. No, no! what sight so revolting to a refined +soul—whether it dwell in male or female bosom—as unsexed womanhood, +booted and spurred, parading over rostrums, brawling in debates, and +spouting sophistical sentiments on subjects of whose true signification +they are as ignorant as an idiot of the laughter and derision his babble +excites? O, 'tis woman's thrice-beautiful right to relieve and succor +the care-worn and distressed, wherever on this goodly earth they fall +within the circle of her sphere and influence! To give sweet, +unobtrusive charities to the children of want! By gentle words of +sympathy and hope, to raise and cheer the drooping souls of her erring +sisters; and in dim-lighted rooms, where restless disease tosses on +couches of pain and agony, 'tis hers to move with noiseless tread, to +smooth the pillow, bathe the brow, and give the healing potion! Say not +her sphere is limited, her influence small, her mission low, or her +rights unacknowledged." +</p> + +<p> +Louise rose as she proceeded, her face glowing with the sentiments she +uttered. Mrs. Lawson stood before her, moving backwards gradually, till +she finally receded through the open door, took to the street, and was +seen no more in the home of Louise Edson. +</p> + + + + +<p class="chapter"> +CHAPTER XXII. +</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>"Babies are very well when they don't cry,</p> +<p>But when they do, I choose not to be nigh;</p> +<p>For of all awful sounds that can appal,</p> +<p>The most terrific is a baby's squall;</p> +<p>I'd rather hear a panther's hungry howl,</p> +<p>Or e'en a tiger's deep, ferocious growl,</p> +<p>Than sit in chimney-corner 'neath my hat,</p> +<p>And list the screechings of an irate brat."</p></div></div><br> + + + +<p> +We thought we would go to Mrs. Stanhope's this cold, starry, winter +evening, but on passing the parlor windows of Dea. Allen's cottage, the +curtains being yet undrawn, we distinguished, by the blazing firelight +within, the form of that good lady, and also that of her maiden sister, +Miss Martha Pinkerton, both sitting at the family table, drinking tea +with the good deacon and his amiable spouse. Amy Seaton and Charlie were +there, too, but we missed the laughing face of Jenny Andrews, and Mrs. +Allen said she was gone on a sleighing excursion, which a number of the +young people of Wimbledon were enjoying, this fine, bright evening. +</p> + +<p> +"I want to know," asked Miss Pinkerton, sipping her bohea, "if you +believe there's any truth in the report of Florence Howard's engagement +with Rufus Malcome, Mrs. Allen?" +</p> + +<p> +"Well, I never thought much about the matter," returned that +mild-visaged lady. "The young people's affairs don't interest me +particularly. The two families are quite intimate. We have the Malcomes +at our next door, and can't well avoid seeing a large number of their +visitors, as they come and go." +</p> + +<p> +"Col. Malcome is a very gentlemanly man," remarked Mrs. Stanhope, as +they were rising from the table. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," said the good deacon, wiping his face with a yellow silk +handkerchief; "but sometimes I fear he is not the Christian he should +be. He never goes to church, and every Sunday that wicked-looking woman +of Major Howard's is there the whole day, racketing about with Rufus and +the servants. I don't think a peaceable, pious man would counsel such +doings, for my part." +</p> + +<p> +"That Hannah Doliver at Col. Malcome's every Sabbath?" said Miss +Pinkerton, opening wide her large, light eyes; "I don't see what she +does there; really, the impudence of some people is astonishing. 'Tis +likely she wants to see all she can and gossip about the colonel's +affairs." +</p> + +<p> +Nobody replied to this pert speech of Miss Martha's, and Mrs. Stanhope +resumed the conversation by giving a brief account of Mrs. Lawson's +discomfiting attempt to convert Mrs. Louise Edson into a reformer; she +having received an amusing description of the scene from Louise's own +lips. This was exciting considerable merriment among the group, when +there came a rap on the door, and Mrs. Salsify Mumbles entered with her +daughter, Mary Madeline; the latter carrying a bundle in her arms. +Before the salutations were fairly over, said bundle began to squeal, +and on removing several yellow flannel blankets, a baby was discovered +of nearly the same hue as the shawls which had enveloped it. +</p> + +<p> +And the baby became the toast on all sides; as what baby does not, when +making its debut among strangers? Mrs. Allen said it was the image of +its grandma, whereupon Mrs. Salsify laughed and looked supremely silly. +The deacon patted its back and said, "Poor little innocent! what a world +of sin and misery it has come into!" +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Stanhope said it appeared very strong of its age, and Miss +Pinkerton gave it a hasty, expressive glance, which spoke <i>her</i> +opinion more eloquently than words could have done. +</p> + +<p> +Amy and Charlie approached in their turn, and, gazing on it, exclaimed, +innocently, +</p> + +<p> +"What a <i>funny thing</i>!" +</p> + +<p> +Verily, there was more truth than fiction in these words. It certainly +<i>was</i> a funny thing. On the crown of its long, bare, peaked head, +stuck one of the little, furbelowed caps we once saw Mrs. Salsify +engaged in making, which was tied down over its flapping ears with +orange-colored ribbon. A receding forehead, little specs of eyes, a +turned-up nose, and great blubber lips, adown whose corners flowed +eternally two miniature cataracts. O, what a face! Surely, nobody but a +grandmother would be pleased to have it said to resemble theirs. 'Twas +such a scowling, uncomfortable-looking baby, and had such a shrill, +piercing squeal for a cry; for all the world like a miniature porker. +Mary Madeline tossed it up and down in her arms, trotted it on her knee, +but still it squealed, and Mrs. Salsify said it was squealing for its +father; it always did so when it was carried away from him, and they +should have to take it home. So they bundled off, and then Miss Martha +spoke. "It was strange people would carry their squalling brats into +their neighbors' houses to annoy them." +</p> + +<p> +"Children are usually more trouble among strangers than at home," Mrs. +Allen remarked. +</p> + +<p> +Then Charlie Seaton said, "Willie Danforth told him it was always +squealing when he passed Mr. Salsify's, which was several times a day, +on his way to and from the seminary; and he thought they kept a pig in +their parlor, till one day he saw the baby's face at the window, and +discovered the sounds proceeded from its noisy throat." +</p> + +<p> +"How happens it that Willie Danforth goes to school at the seminary, +when his mother is so poor?" asked Miss Pinkerton. +</p> + +<p> +"Willie says his mother found a paper on her door-sill one morning," +answered Charlie, "and on opening it several bank-notes fell out. On the +paper was written, 'Use these for William's tuition at the seminary.' So +he is going to school till the money is spent." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, I declare," said Miss Martha, "that was a strange incident. Does +Mrs. Danforth know who left the money?" +</p> + +<p> +"She thinks it was the same one who leaves little bundles of sticks at +her door, every now and then," answered Charlie. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, who is that?" inquired Miss P. +</p> + +<p> +"O, she don't know," returned the lad. +</p> + +<p> +"I am glad some kind soul remembers the poor widow," said Mrs. Allen; +"for I have often feared many of us were too neglectful of the lone +woman." +</p> + +<p> +"You know, wife," said the deacon, "what sad reports we heard of her +hypocrisy; how she assumed an appearance of extreme poverty to create +sympathy and wheedle people into deeds of false benevolence. I do not +think such sinfulness should be countenanced." +</p> + +<p> +"I know such reports were spread abroad concerning her," remarked Mrs. +Stanhope; "but I never could trace them to any other source than that +ranting, blustering Mrs. Pimble." +</p> + +<p> +"What! that brawling, fanatical, crazy-pated, man-woman?" exclaimed the +deacon, vehemently; "pray, don't mention her. The wrath of God will fall +upon her and all the guilty brood who have desecrated His sanctuary, by +tearing down its curtains and converting them into garments to serve +Satan in." The excitable deacon was waxing warm, when his wife gave him +a conjugal nudge, and he held his peace. +</p> + + + + +<p class="chapter"> +CHAPTER XXIII. +</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2">"From the hour by him enchanted,</p> +<p class="i4">From the moment when we met;</p> +<p class="i2">Henceforth by one image haunted,</p> +<p class="i4">Life may never more forget.</p> +<p class="i2">All my nature changed—his being</p> +<p class="i4">Seemed the only source of mine.</p> +<p class="i2">Fond heart, hadst thou no foreseeing</p> +<p class="i4">Thy sad future to divine?"</p></div></div><br> + + + +<p> +Florence Howard sat in a deep-cushioned fauteuil, beside a marble table +which graced the centre of the elegant apartment she called her own. A +loose robe, of India cashmere, in superb colors, with a lining of the +softest, rose-colored velvet, was folded carelessly about her graceful +form. One white hand toyed with the luxuriant chestnut curls, that hung +in beautiful profusion over her shoulders; the other rested lightly on +the cushioned arm of the chair. A quantity of rich writing materials +were spread out on the table before her; but she glanced towards them +listlessly, and at length bowed her queenly head between her hands, and +sat a long time still and silent, as if absorbed in reverie. Ever and +anon her little foot tapped impatiently the soft carpet beneath it, as +though some harassing, unpleasant vision disturbed her brain. The clear, +ringing chimes of the college clock finally aroused her to +consciousness. +</p> + +<p> +Rising, she drew aside the heavy folds of the damask curtain, and gazed +for a moment forth on the sleeping earth. The stars were bright, and a +slender crescent rim hung just above the dark cedar forest that swept +and swayed to the northward. Florence dropped the curtain, and, +returning to the table, opened a large morocco-bound volume, which +revealed a virgin page. Twirling the silver top from a carved, mosaic +inkstand, she dipped the golden tips of a pearl-handled pen in its ebon +contents, and holding it between her small, taper fingers, rested her +arm a few moments on the stand, as if waiting for her thoughts to form +and arrange themselves ere she gave them expression. Suddenly the pen +dashed off, and line after line of graceful characters grew on the pure, +white page till it was completely filled. +</p> + +<p> +"I have looked out on the midnight," she wrote, "with all its countless +diamonds blazing on its brow; and far on the verge of the northern +horizon hung the pale disc of the young crescent moon hurrying to +obscure itself behind the dark, gloomy forest,—like as my hopes fail +when I turn my eyes toward those cedar-tops. O, earth, how soon thy +children learn the lesson of sorrow and distrust! But where is my old +pen taking me this evening? This journal grows a sad, ghostly thing, +o'ersplashed with tears, and wo-fraught to the edges. +</p> + +<p> +"To turn the subject: What have I done to-day? Moped dismally till +evening, and then muffled myself in furs; sat down among cushions and +buffalo robes in the omnibus-sleigh, beside ——, shall I write it? yes! +beside Rufus Malcome, and dashed away over the snow-clad earth to the +music of merry bells and merrier voices around me. +</p> + +<p> +"How finely Jenny Andrews and Richard Giblet enjoyed themselves! I +understood their happiness well. Mrs. Edson was not quite so buoyant +with spirits as usual; but she conversed with Rufus in her charming +style. I was quite indignant to hear so much eloquence and refinement +wasted on a churl like him, and just malicious enough to think the fair +speaker would have preferred to say her pretty things in the ear of one +who could have better appreciated their worth and beauty, namely, Col. +Malcome. He is really a splendid man, though I hardly relish the power +he seems to exercise over father, who is so infatuated with him I +believe he would scarcely be able to refuse any request he might choose +to make. I wonder so talented a father should own a dolt like Rufus for +a son. Silly-pated fellow! he has made love to me several times. I say +<i>made</i> it, and truthfully; for no such simpleton as he could ever +actually <i>feel</i> it in their bosoms. But then, no doubt, he thinks +he is in love,—desperately so. I have no pity for him; nothing but +contempt, and yet, should he propose for me to my father, I fear the +result would be his acceptance. He has wealth and position, and I know +father has a suspicion that I have yet a lingering recollection of the +hermit's boy, as he calls Edgar. O, name of all others! Have I dared +write it in full on these pages? I must draw an obscuring line over it. +There! Now, +</p> + +<div class="poemtext"> +<div class="stanzatext"> +<p>'One last, long sigh to hope and love,</p> +<p>Then back to busy life again.'"</p></div></div> + +<p> +While Florence was occupied with her journal in the room above, Col. +Malcome sat with her father in the parlor below, and that which she had +feared might some time come to pass had actually occurred; and when she +nestled down on her soft pillow and sank to sleep, if her slumbers were +not tranquil and dreamless, they were sweeter than any she might know +for many a weary night to come; for she slept in blissful ignorance that +she was the affianced bride of Rufus Malcome. Early on the following +morning her father imparted to her the dismal intelligence. +</p> + +<p> +"I have accepted him," said Major Howard, "on the conditions that the +engagement shall remain a secret between the families, and the union not +be consummated for at least one year, as you are both young. Col. +Malcome will give his son fifty thousand dollars on his marriage, and +also a splendid situation wherever he chooses to reside." +</p> + +<p> +He ceased, and Florence remained silent and abstracted. +</p> + +<p> +"This will be a match suitable for my daughter," said the fond father, +approaching and laying his hand affectionately on her bowed head. "Does +she not agree with me?" +</p> + +<p> +Florence lifted her face; the light seemed suddenly to have gone out of +her eyes and left them in utter darkness. No tinge of color glowed on +her features, which worked with painful and scarcely suppressed emotion. +The father started back on beholding her. "My child!" he exclaimed, +"what is the matter?" +</p> + +<p> +"Leave me alone, father, I entreat of you!" she said. +</p> + +<p> +"Not till you tell me what is distressing you so," said he, chafing her +cold hands in his. "Is this engagement so repulsive, so averse to your +feelings, as to cause this appearance of agony and distress?" +</p> + +<p> +But she only said, "Leave me, dear father, I entreat you, for a while! I +have a sudden illness. By and by I will speak to you." +</p> + +<p> +Awed by her tone and manner, the fond father obeyed. An hour passed by, +during which the grief-stricken girl never moved, when the door opened, +and Hannah Doliver entered. She glowered on Florence with an expression +of hate and gratified revenge, which changed to one of fawning fondness +when the pale, tear-stained face was turned toward her. "Pray, don't sit +here in the cold all day!" said she. "Your mother desires you to come to +her." +</p> + +<p> +Florence wrapped her rich dressing-gown around her, stole down the +stairs and entered the apartment of the invalid, who reached her wasted +arm from the bed as she approached, and clasped it round the slender, +graceful waist. The young girl bowed her head on the pillow, and burst +into tears. +</p> + + + + +<p class="chapter"> +CHAPTER XXIV. +</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>"He held a letter in his withered hand</p> +<p>Which brought good tidings of the absent one.</p> +<p>O, what soul-cheering things are letters, when</p> +<p>They come fresh from the hand of one we love,</p> +<p>All brimming o'er with kindly-uttered words!"</p></div></div><br> + + + +<p> +The wailing winds swept onward with low and piteous sound, while the +"Hermit of the Cedars" sat beneath his humble roof, beside a rough +table, and, by the light of a tallow candle, pored over a +closely-written page. In the recess of the small window, a bright-haired +boy was sitting, very like the dreamy Edgar who sat there in summers and +seasons passed by, and watched the stars gleaming, like showers of +diamonds, through the interlacing forest-boughs. But it was not Edgar, +for he was far away, storing his mind from the mines of ancient lore. +</p> + +<p> +It was our little friend, Willie Danforth, the washerwoman's boy, for +whom the hermit had taken a large fancy since Edgar left him, and often +coaxed him from his mother to pass a few nights at the hut in the +forest. Willie, as we see him now, in the place where we were wont to +behold Edgar, is certainly wonderfully like him; and so thought Florence +Howard, when she saw the tall, graceful youth, in the same morocco cap +and blue frock coat Edgar used to wear, wending his way past her +father's mansion to the seminary on the hill. She sought to learn his +name; and some person, not very well informed, said 'twas William +Greyson, another foundling of that strange hermit's. +</p> + +<p> +But we wander from the lonely man, who still pores over the sheet he +holds in his attenuated fingers. It is a letter from Edgar Lindenwood. +</p> + +<p> +"Dear, dear uncle," it runs, "gladly I turn from musty tomes of +olden time lore, to give to you the star-lit midnight hour. Fancy, +on airy pinions, flits away over mountain-top and valley, and rests +upon that long arm of the tall linden, that stretches close to your +lowly window, and gazes through the narrow panes on your dear form, +bending over some treasured volume, or sitting, with bowed head, +before a blazing fire, lost in reveries of thought and contemplation. +You express a fear that I may have deemed you arbitrary and severe +in the control sometimes exercised over my humors and inclinations. +Your fear is groundless, uncle. Though some of your commands may +have cost me a struggle ere I could unmurmuringly obey, I have too +high an estimate of your judgment and discrimination to rebel +against an authority I feel is grounded in reason, and only +exercised for my benefit and welfare in future life. +</p> + +<p> +"I remember a tale, my mother oft breathed in my infantine ears, of +a bright star that once skirted the literary horizon, and ere long +darkly disappeared; of a lofty, sensitive nature, that met a +staggering blow, and reeled to earth, no more to soar aloft. And, +though I have never known the details of that early disappointment, +I regard, with overflowing reverence, sympathy, and devotional +affection, the suffering, uncomplaining heart that struggles +silently on, with its wreck of youthful hopes and aspirations. +</p> + +<p> +"Shall I tell you, uncle, my university life promises to be a brief +one? You will think it augurs badly for the erudition of the +faculty of this institution, when I inform you that they have +placed me among the senior class, which will graduate in the coming +spring. Then I propose to take a brief tour of travel, and amuse +myself by sketching from the beautiful scenery of this country. I +find the passion for art increases with my years. Once I wished to +be a poet, but now the painter's pencil yields me most delight. +</p> + +<p> +"Ere long I hope to return to that home among the Cedars, and sit +down to quiet evenings by my dear uncle's side, with no sound in +our ears save the eternal roar of the mighty forest winds. +</p> + +<p> +"Far from experiencing a jealous pang, I rejoice to learn you have +found an object of interest in the youth you have taken under your +care. May he prove a grateful companion to your solitude, is the +sincere wish of, Yours, most truly, <span class="sc">Edgar</span>." +</p> + +<p> +Such were the contents of the letter which the hermit perused several +times ere he folded it, and turned his attention to the boy, who was +still sitting by the small window, gazing forth into the windy night. +</p> + +<p> +"William," said he—and the lad approached. +</p> + +<p> +Something seemed trembling on the thin lips of the recluse which he +hesitated to reveal. At length, as if suddenly changing his purpose, he +said: "Do you think your mother is comfortable, to-night, my boy?" +</p> + +<p> +"O, yes, sir!" answered Willie, "the large bundle of sticks you left at +her door yesterday evening will keep her warm for several days." +</p> + +<p> +"I hope they may," returned the hermit; "'tis a sad thing to be poor, +Willie, but 'tis a sadder thing to be wicked." +</p> + +<p> +"You do not think my mother is wicked, do you?" asked the boy, turning +his blue eyes quickly on the hermit's countenance. +</p> + +<p> +"Why do you ask?" said he, returning Willie's startled glance with a +grave smile. +</p> + +<p> +"Because I knew Mr. Pimble's folks said harsh things of her, and I +didn't know but you believed them, as you never chose to enter our +humble abode." +</p> + +<p> +"My gloomy disposition is averse to intercourse with the generality of +my species," returned the hermit, in a solemn tone; "nor do I ever heed +or hear the tales and gossipings of idle lips. In the last ten years I +have held no converse with any human beings, save you and your —— and +my nephew, Edgar Lindenwood." +</p> + +<p> +Willie gazed on the strange man before him in silent awe. "Has your +mother ever expressed a wish to see me?" inquired the hermit, after a +pause. +</p> + +<p> +"Often," said Willie. +</p> + +<p> +"For what purpose?" demanded the recluse, in a quick, sudden tone, +looking eagerly on the boy's face. +</p> + +<p> +"To thank you for all your kindness to her," replied the lad, +ingenuously. +</p> + +<p> +"O, yes!" returned the solitary man, his features relapsing into their +usual placid serenity. "I wish not, nor deserve, her thanks for the +humble charities given. Let us seek our couch, my boy." +</p> + +<p> +"Have you another name than William?" he asked, as they were lying down. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," answered the youth; "William Ralph is my name,—the first for my +father, the second for an uncle who went to distant countries, ere I can +remember, and has never been heard of since." +</p> + +<p> +"Was the uncle your father's or mother's brother?" inquired the hermit, +in a careless tone. +</p> + +<p> +"My mother's. Ralph Greyson was his name." +</p> + +<p> +"And does your mother appear to mourn his loss, or wish for his return?" +said the hermit, still in the same careless, half-absorbed tone of +voice. +</p> + +<p> +"She speaks pityingly of him sometimes, for he was a bright, promising +youth, she says, when one distressful circumstance crushed his hopes and +ruined his usefulness; but I do not think she desires his return, for he +left his native shores cursing her as the cause of his misfortunes." +</p> + +<p> +"Ah! how had she caused his misfortunes?" asked the hermit, drowsily. +</p> + +<p> +"By marrying below her sphere," said Willie, in a trembling, embarrassed +tone; "a man who proved a vulgar sot, and thus disgracing him in the +eyes of a proud family, with whom he sought an alliance." +</p> + +<p> +As Willie ceased speaking, the hermit breathed heavily, as if in deep +sleep; so, turning his face to the cedar-plaited wall, the lad was soon +wrapped in his own sweet, youthful slumbers. +</p> + + + + +<p class="chapter"> +CHAPTER XXV. +</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>"Wasting away—away—away,</p> +<p>Slowly, silently, day after day.</p> +<p>Fainter, and fainter and fainter the flow,</p> +<p>Of the current of life more sluggish and slow,</p> +<p>And a ghastly glare in the glassy eye,</p> +<p>And the wan cheek tinged with a hectic dye."</p></div></div><br> + + +<p> +In the dim gloom of a soft spring evening, a slender, graceful form bent +silently over a low, curtained couch, gently fanning the annoying +insects from the pale brow of its slumbering occupant. The apartment was +furnished with almost princely magnificence. Curtains of the richest +blue-wrought damask, hung in massy folds from ceiling to floor, before +the deep bay-windows. Rosewood sofas and fauteuils, in costly coverings +of the same soft color, rested on the brilliantly interwoven flowers of +the Persian carpet, whose velvety softness echoed not the slightest +tread. A fairy chandelier hung suspended from the lofty, corniced +ceiling. Rare statuary decorated the mantel. Large mirrors and pictures +in broad gilt frames adorned the walls. Marble stands, covered with +deep-fringed cloths of gold, on which lay books in superb bindings, +graced the several corners, and the carved mahogany bedstead, behind +whose ample curtains of azure velvet the sleeper reposed, among +white-piled cushions of softest down, vied in elegant luxury with the +couch of an eastern princess. And there, with one white, wasted arm +thrown above the head, all shorn of its bright wealth of auburn curls, +and the other concealed 'neath the silken coverings, lay Edith Malcome, +the blue veins almost starting from her pale brow, and a bright crimson +spot on the sunken cheek. Alas, that earth's most lovely should fall the +earliest victims to the withering hand of disease! The door did softly +asunder, and her father entered. With an expression of deep care and +suffering depicted on his handsome features, he approached the bed-side. +</p> + +<p> +"Is she still sleeping?" demanded he, in a whisper which would have been +inaudible to an ear less quick than that of the silent watcher. +</p> + +<p> +"She is," was the ready answer, in the same hushed tone. He gazed +intently for several moments on the attenuated form before him, while +every variety of expression passed over his countenance. +</p> + +<p> +"If she dies," said he, at length, in a voice broken with grief, "what +will be left on earth to me?" +</p> + +<p> +The watcher was deeply affected by his grief-stricken appearance. "O, +speak not thus!" she said, bursting into tears. "She will not die; the +doctor has given us better hopes to-day. But even if she were to be +taken to her home in the skies, you must not say there's nothing left on +earth for you. You, so bright in soul and intellect, surrounded by +admiring friends and all the luxuries of princely wealth, with a son to +perpetuate your name"—— +</p> + +<p> +"Say no more," interrupted the afflicted man. "I cannot endure your +words." +</p> + +<p> +Louise was grieved to see she had only wounded where she meant to +soothe, and, with a gentle, impulsive movement, placed her hand on the +soft black curls of the head that was bowed among the cushions of the +bed, and said, "Forgive me, I meant not to afflict." +</p> + +<p> +Silently he took the little hand in his, and placed it on his throbbing +temples. Louise trembled. +</p> + +<p> +"Your brow is feverish," said she at length, seeking an excuse to +withdraw the imprisoned hand; "let me bathe it in some cooling lotion." +</p> + +<p> +"No," said he, "this moist little palm is better than any lotion," still +detaining it, as she sought to reach the stand which contained a +quantity of vials on a silver tray. The slight movements aroused Edith. +Opening her large, spiritual eyes, she gazed up in the faces of the +watchers at her bed-side, with a vague, dreamy expression. +</p> + +<p> +"Don't you know me, Edith?" asked her father, bending quickly over her. +</p> + +<p> +"O, yes, father!" answered she faintly; "and that lady is my mother," +she added, staring confusedly upon Louise, as if not yet in full +possession of her waking faculties. +</p> + +<p> +Louise looked embarrassed, and the colonel hastened to say, "That is +Mrs. Edson, my dear, who watches with you to-night. You are wandering a +little, I fear." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, where is my mother, then?" continued Edith, in the same strange +manner, which appeared to agitate her father deeply. +</p> + +<p> +"My child," said he, in a soothing tone, "have I not often told you your +mother died when you was a very little girl?" +</p> + +<p> +"I don't know," said Edith, "but last night I dreamed she came with a +pale face and bloody lips and stared so mournfully upon me. I wish you +would go and bring her to me, father." +</p> + +<p> +"My daughter, do I not tell you she is in her grave?" said the father, +trembling with emotion. "How can I bring her to you?" +</p> + +<p> +"Hannah Doliver told Rufus she would come if you would let her," +continued the sick girl, in a reproachful tone, apparently not +understanding her father's words. +</p> + +<p> +On hearing this, Col. Malcome started with a violent exclamation, which +alarmed Edith, and brought her at once into full possession of her +senses. Louise, who had marked, with her quick eye, the colonel's +strange excitement, approached and administered a reviving cordial to +the invalid. The father soon retired, leaving the watcher alone with her +charge. +</p> + +<p> +As the hours dragged slowly on, many were the thoughts which passed +through Mrs. Edson's active brain, as to the cause of Edith's singular +words, and the anger and excitement evinced by her father. At length the +gray morning dawned, and Sylva, Edith's attendant, appeared to relieve +the watcher from her post. +</p> + +<p> +As Louise was passing through the hall to gain the street, the door +suddenly opened, and Col. Malcome entered in cap and overcoat. He paused +and inquired if his daughter had passed a comfortable night, and, on +receiving an affirmative answer, proceeded to the drawing-room. +</p> + + + + +<p class="chapter"> +CHAPTER XXVI. +</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>"The old days we remember;</p> +<p class="i2">How softly did they glide!</p> +<p class="i2">While, all untouched by worldly care,</p> +<p>We wandered side by side.</p> +<p>In those pleasant days, when the sun's last rays</p> +<p class="i2">Just lingered on the hill;</p> +<p>Or the moon's pale light, with the coming night,</p> +<p class="i2">Shone o'er our pathway still.</p></div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>"The old days we remember,</p> +<p class="i2">O, there's nothing like them now!</p> +<p>The glow has faded from our hearts,</p> +<p class="i2">The blossom from the bough.</p> +<p>A bitter sigh for the hours gone by,</p> +<p class="i2">The dreams that might not last;</p> +<p>The friends deemed true when our hopes were new,</p> +<p class="i2">And the glorious visions past."</p></div></div><br> + + +<p> +Rufus Malcome, as the accepted suitor of Florence, paid regular visits +to her father's mansion. Great was the glee of Hannah Doliver to behold +the young couple together; and great the nervous disquiet evinced by the +invalided Mrs. Howard when she was aware of the young man's presence in +the house. She had never met him, as her health, which had in the last +six months rapidly declined, confined her now entirely to her room, and +indisposed her more strongly than ever to behold strange faces. +</p> + +<p> +The only person she had ever been known to express a wish to see, since +her residence in Wimbledon, was Edith Malcome,—a wish excited, perhaps, +by Florence's warm praises of the grace and beauty of her young friend, +who was as different from Rufus, she said, "as a sweet pink from an +odious poppy." +</p> + +<p> +But Edith, strange as it may appear, had never visited at the Howards', +though often warmly invited by the whole family. +</p> + +<p> +The colonel invariably excused her in his easy, graceful manner, saying +she was "a timid little thing, and dreaded to go for a moment from her +father's side." Latterly, her illness had been sufficient reason for her +seclusion. +</p> + +<p> +Florence was restricted from frequent visits to her sick friend by the +state of her own health, which had grown so feeble and delicate as to +alarm her father exceedingly. Dr. Potipher was consulted, and strongly +advised travel and change of scene as the most effectual remedy for the +feverish disease that seemed preying upon her constitution. +</p> + +<p> +Major Howard was very willing to take his daughter on a tour of travel, +but knew not how to leave his invalid lady, whose strength he thought to +be gradually failing. She was far too low for him to indulge the idea of +making her one of the party, and he was about relinquishing the project +in despair, when, on mentioning the subject to the sick woman, great was +his surprise to find her even more anxious and earnest for his departure +than he was to go. She said "she should do very well without him,—she +always mended as summer approached, and Florence was drooping from long +and close confinement. She needed exercise and change of scene, and it +was his duty to do all in his power to restore her to health and +cheerfulness." Major Howard felt the only obstacle removed by the +invalid's assent and hearty coöperation; so Florence was informed of the +project, and preparations immediately commenced for her tour. +</p> + +<p> +It was a pleasant April evening as she sat in her luxurious apartment +with her journal open before her. "The last of these bright spring +evenings that I am to pass at home is closing in around me," she wrote. +"My trunks are packed and closed down, and to-morrow I am to start on a +tour of travel. How my long torpid bosom bounds at the thought! I shall +sail up that picturesque Hudson! I shall look on glorious Niagara! But I +fear my anticipations are too brilliant. Something will occur to dreg my +expected draught of happiness with sorrow. Thus it has ever been! Too +well I know I shall return to become the bride of one I detest; but I +will not let that thought embitter my enjoyment of the wonders and +beauties I shall behold. Besides, in so long a time as I shall be +absent, what may occur? Ah, I have written words that make me shudder! I +fear I may return to find the snows covering my mother's grave. Why do I +leave her? Is it not selfishness to allow her to urge me away when it is +her own generous care and affection for me which prompt her to do so? +There is something strange in the way she speaks of my matrimonial +engagement. I am sure it does not meet her approval, though she gave her +consent, as she always does to everything upon which father sets his +mind. She evidently dreads its consummation, perhaps because she has +discovered my aversion for the man I am to marry. As to Hannah Doliver, +she is wonderfully mollified toward me of late; but her fawning fondness +is more intolerable than her asperity and impertinence. Nothing seems to +delight her so much as to behold Rufus Malcome in company with me. I +caught her watching at the parlor-door this evening when he called in +company with his father to leave his adieus. She accompanied them to the +door and remained several minutes in conversation in the hall. I found +her in the kitchen a short time after, and she was muttering to herself +and slamming things about in a great rage. When she discovered me she +ceased, and grew suddenly as sunny as summer. She is a strange, dark, +intriguing woman, I fear, and wish we were well quit of her. I asked +mother if she had not better discharge her, and get a new person to +attend her during our absence; but she said, with a sudden expression of +alarm, 'O, no; she would not part with Hannah on any account!' So I said +no more, but fancied her preference was dictated more by fear than love. +But I spin out a long record for this last evening at home. O, budding +vines and flowers! who will train your rich luxuriance into fairy, +fantastic clusterings, or watch your opening petals in the summer which +is to come? Who listen to the babbling fountains, or roam the +cedar-walks that border the dancing river? And O, the far, +far-stretching forest, from whose mysterious depths, in a bright year +passed away, I saw <i>him</i> emerge, and hurried down the gravelled +path to meet him at the garden-gate, with happy, bounding heart! Will +new scenes, however glad and gay, e'er dim the memory of those dear +times? Never!" +</p> + + + + +<p class="chapter"> +CHAPTER XXVII. +</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>"It is a pleasant thing to roam abroad,</p> +<p class="i2">And gaze on scenes and objects strange and grand;</p> +<p>To sail in mighty ships o'er distant seas,</p> +<p class="i2">And roam the mountains of a foreign land."</p></div></div><br> + + +<p> +In Mrs. Stanhope's pretty cottage, close by the vine-shaded window, sat +Jenny Andrews, and she said Florence Howard had started on a tour of +travel. +</p> + +<p> +"Who is her companion?" asked Mrs. Stanhope. +</p> + +<p> +"Why, Rufus Malcome, of course," said Miss Pinkerton, quickly. +</p> + +<p> +"No," said Jenny, "her father." +</p> + +<p> +"Her father!" exclaimed Miss Martha, in a tone of surprise. "How in the +world could he leave his sick wife, I should like to know?" +</p> + +<p> +"Mrs. Howard is getting better, I believe," remarked Jenny. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, that's strange enough," continued Miss Pinkerton; "with that +impudent Hannah Doliver for a nurse, I wonder she has not died before +now." +</p> + +<p> +Hannah Doliver was Miss Martha's utter detestation, though why, we +cannot tell, as the little dark woman had never injured her, nor had +Miss Pinkerton ever exchanged above a dozen syllables with her in her +life. But it was one of those unaccountable dislikes which often arise +in people of certain temperaments, on first sight of a particular +individual. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Stanhope said she was glad Florence had gone a journey, for the +dear girl had looked pale and sickly of late, and she thought change of +scene might be beneficial to her health. +</p> + +<p> +Miss Martha inquired if Jenny knew how Edith Malcome was getting along. +</p> + +<p> +"I have just come from her," said Jenny; "she is very much changed. All +her beautiful hair has been cut away, and she is, O, so thin and wasted! +But they call her slowly improving." +</p> + +<p> +"Who takes care of her?" asked Miss P. +</p> + +<p> +"Her waiting-woman, Sylva, I believe," returned Jenny. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, it must be very hard for her to do it all the time," said Martha; +"if they would just ask me, I would go any time and assist them." +</p> + +<p> +"Mrs. Edson is there considerable," remarked Jenny. +</p> + +<p> +"I know she is; most too much for her credit," returned Miss Pinkerton; +"if a man has a wife, he wants her at home sometimes." +</p> + +<p> +"Why, Martha!" observed Mrs. Stanhope, mildly; "I never heard a +reproachful word of Mrs. Edson breathed by any person." +</p> + +<p> +"Neither did I," said Jenny, rising; "and if I do, I shan't believe it, +for I think she is the dearest, sweetest creature in the world." +</p> + +<p> +"With the exception of one Mr. Richard Giblet," remarked Miss Pinkerton, +in a tone she conceived to be vastly witty and piquant. +</p> + +<p> +Jenny's blush, as she bade good-morning, crowned the malicious maiden's +triumph. +</p> + +<p> +On this same morning, Mrs. Edson sat at her elegant rosewood piano, +carelessly striking the ivory keys, when she heard a light footstep, and +turning, beheld Col. Malcome advancing to her side. She was a little +angry that he had entered unannounced, and her cheeks flushed, as she +rather briefly bade him welcome. +</p> + +<p> +"I beg your pardon for entering so informally," said he, at once +interpreting the expression of her face. "Your doors were all ajar, and +I saw no one to announce me." +</p> + +<p> +"Had you rung, some one would have appeared," said Louise, with a slight +curl of her red lip. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, I beg your pardon for not doing so," returned he. "Will you grant +it?" +</p> + +<p> +There was something in the rueful appearance he assumed, which forced +her to laugh in spite of her efforts at dignity and restraint, and thus +he was reinstated in her good graces. +</p> + +<p> +"Are you playing?" he asked, touching his own fingers upon the keys, but +at a respectful distance from hers. +</p> + +<p> +"No," she returned. "I have practised so little of late I have lost all +my ear. Won't you favor me with that thrilling piece from Beethoven, you +performed on the first evening of our acquaintance?" She looked eagerly +in his face as she spoke. +</p> + +<p> +"What will you do for me if I will?" he asked. +</p> + +<p> +"O, anything in my power!" she replied, rising, and motioning him to +assume the music-stool, which he did very readily. Skilfully running +over the keys, by way of prelude, while she stood leaning gracefully +against the instrument, intently regarding his movements, he commenced +the symphony. The swelling notes rose on the air in brilliant variety, +and when, at the end of the second chorus, the rich, mellow tones of his +voice were added, Louise dropped on her knees beside the performer, +while tears gathered in her eyes and rolled over her beautiful face. He +did not seem to heed her position, so intently was his soul occupied +with the music his lips were breathing. At length the last magic strain +died mournfully away. Then he rested his deep blue eyes calmly on her +glowing features. +</p> + +<p> +"What shall I do for you?" she asked, smiling. +</p> + +<p> +"You promised," answered he, "to do anything I wished, if I would sing +the piece." +</p> + +<p> +"So I will," returned she, earnestly. +</p> + +<p> +"Then," said he, in a low, thrilling tone, "as Steerforth said to David, +think of me at my best." +</p> + +<p> +She looked at him eagerly. "Is that all?" she asked. +</p> + +<p> +"That is enough," he answered; "will you promise <i>always</i> to do +that?" +</p> + +<p> +She paused a few moments, and then answered, in a tone which indicated +her whole soul spoke in the words, "Yes, I promise." +</p> + +<p> +"Thank you," said he, extending his hand. +</p> + +<p> +She gave him hers. He held it a moment in his own. Then, pressing it +respectfully to his lips, bade her good-morning, and retired. +</p> + + + + +<p class="chapter"> +CHAPTER XXVIII. +</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2">"And when in other climes we meet,</p> +<p class="i4">Some isle or vale enchanting,</p> +<p class="i2">And all looks flowery, wild and sweet,</p> +<p class="i4">And naught but love is wanting,</p> +<p class="i2">We think how blest had been our fate,</p> +<p class="i4">If Heaven had but assigned us</p> +<p class="i2">To live and die 'mid scenes like this,</p> +<p class="i4">With some we've left behind us."</p></div></div><br> + + +<p> +Shout, reader, on the hill-tops of deliverance, for you and I are out of +Wimbledon. We have left behind us the Pimbles, the Mumbles, the Simcoes, +and their multitudinous voices grow indistinct in the distance, as, +borne by the rushing steam-steed, we fly on our way in search of our +fair traveller, who has got the start of us by several hours. We hardly +know whether to go up the Hudson, or hold straight on over the Erie road +for Niagara; but as we have no particular desire to see the former, our +remembrances of its picturesque scenery being marred by the unpleasant +circumstances under which we first beheld it, we incline to the latter +course. +</p> + +<p> +So world-wondered-at Niagara shall be our destination, where Florence +Howard and her father are already arrived and installed occupants of a +regally-furnished suite of apartments at the Clifton House on the Canada +side of the river. +</p> + +<p> +The new arrival had created quite a sensation; as new arrivals at these +fashionable watering-places, where the masses resort to display +themselves and behold and comment upon the display of others, always do. +As Florence, dressed with simple grace, leaned on the arm of her +noble-looking father, and entered the spacious dining-saloon, where +hundreds of both sexes, all flaunted out in the gayest and richest +attire, were already seated at the splendidly laid tables, every eye +levelled a critical glance on her garb and figure. Many an elegant lady, +in startling silks and astonishing ear-jewels, turned her nose sublimely +skyward and exclaimed "No great fetch,—these folks!" Gentlemen, in +surprising pants and prodigious vest buttons, said, with a princely +contempt, "Aw, an unsawphistawcated country gawl!" +</p> + +<p> +But there were some, the precious few, who graced the saloons of the +Clifton House, not to gorge themselves on its spicy viands, or grow +inebriate over its sparkling wines, or yet to display their spindling +limbs encased in miraculous tights, their alarming waistcoats and +elephantine fob-chains; but who had come to look on and admire the +wonderful cataract, with its surrounding scenery of wildness and +grandeur; who marked the elegant bearing of an accomplished lady in the +sweet open countenance, simple dress, and graceful movements of the "new +arrival." +</p> + +<p> +Florence seemed wholly regardless of the volleys of glances directed +toward her during the sumptuously-served dinner. She retired before +dessert, so great was her impatience of a nearer view of the sublime +spectacle visible from the piazzas of the Clifton House. +</p> + +<p> +On Table Rock she stood, with her father's arm cast protectingly around +her, and gazed, tremulous with intense emotion, on the tremendous sweep +of rushing waters over the mighty horse-shoe fall, down, down forever, +upon the floods that boiled and surged like fathomless seas of angry +foam in the depths below. Then she turned to the lofty American fall, +spanned by its brilliant rainbow, like the bright wing of the Spirit of +the Waters cast beauteously o'er her stupendous creation of power and +sublimity. +</p> + +<p> +Florence gazed till the shades of evening obscured the magnificent +scene, and then, clinging to her father's arm, returned to the hotel. On +gaining her room, she tossed off her bonnet and shawl and seized her +journal. +</p> + +<p> +"Are you not going to tea?" asked her father. +</p> + +<p> +"No," answered she, almost sharply. "I cannot so suddenly descend to the +actual, or come in so quick contact with the grossness of earth after +the god-like sublimity I have been contemplating." +</p> + +<p> +Her father called her a little enthusiast, and walked away. Left to +herself she drew forth her journal. +</p> + +<p> +"Eventful day!" she wrote. "I have stood among the mists of Niagara. +Fain would I voice the tumult flood of emotions that rushed over my soul +as I gazed on its wondrous sublimity: but language is impotent, and I am +weak,—weaker than usual; I think from reaction of my overstrained +powers. +</p> + +<p> +"I could lie down and weep like a tired child. The tremendous roar of +the mighty waters is in my ear as I write. O, Niagara, Niagara! what +henceforth will be to me the brightest scene our country can afford—for +I have looked on thee, and what is left me now?" +</p> + +<p> +She closed her book, and, stepping out on the piazza, leaned her arms +over the balustrade, and stood with her gaze riveted on the boiling +cataracts, now flashing like sheets of burnished silver in the soft +moonlight. While she was thus occupied a young lady approached and +accosted her. +</p> + +<p> +"You are just arrived at the Falls, I fancy," said she, with a pleasant +smile. +</p> + +<p> +"I arrived to-day," answered Florence, politely. +</p> + +<p> +"You do not know me," remarked the young lady; "but I think I have seen +you before." +</p> + +<p> +Florence gazed on the eloquent features, but she did not detect a +resemblance to any person she had ever known. +</p> + +<p> +"You have the advantage of me," she said; "I do not recollect you." +</p> + +<p> +"Probably not," returned the young lady; "but did you never reside in a +village called Wimbledon, at a beautiful mansion styled 'Summer House?'" +</p> + +<p> +"I have just come from there," said Florence, gazing with surprise in +the face of her fair interrogator. +</p> + +<p> +"So I thought," remarked the young lady, "and your name, excuse my +boldness, is Florence Howard. Mine is Ellen Williams. I once resided in +Wimbledon, and saw you several times at the village church. You, +probably, did not notice me, or, if you did, my features would be easily +forgotten. Not so yours. I recognized you the moment you entered the +dining hall. How do you like Niagara?" +</p> + +<p> +"O, I am charmed, spell-bound!" exclaimed Florence. "Its glorious +sublimity thrills to the centre of my soul." +</p> + +<p> +"Your enthusiasm reminds me of a young painter and poet we have had here +several weeks," said Miss Williams; "he left us only this morning. I was +down to the Suspension Bridge to-day, and read some verses he left in +pencil on the painted railings. His sketches of the Falls from different +points of view were very fine. He was very handsome, and had a sweet +name. I believe half the ladies were dead in love with him, but he never +bestowed a single encouraging glance on all their attempts to win his +favor." +</p> + +<p> +"Quite an insensible young man, I should think," said Florence, smiling. +"What did you say was his name?" +</p> + +<p> +"Lindenwood," returned Miss Williams. "I do not know whence he came, but +from some remote part of the country, I think." +</p> + +<p> +Florence heard none of the young lady's words after the name was +mentioned, and it is difficult to say into what awkwardness her emotion +might have betrayed her, had not her father appeared at this juncture +and called her to her room. She recollected herself sufficiently to bid +good-evening to Miss Williams as she hastened away leaning heavily on +her father's arm. +</p> + +<p> +Fastening her door, she dropped on a sofa, and exclaimed, "Alas, alas! +one day too late at Niagara." +</p> + + + + +<p class="chapter"> +CHAPTER XXIX. +</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2">"Flow on forever in thy glorious robe</p> +<p class="i2">Of terror and of beauty. Yea, flow on,</p> +<p class="i2">Unfathomed and resistless! God hath set</p> +<p class="i2">His rainbow on thy forehead, and the cloud</p> +<p class="i2">Mantled around thy feet.</p> +<p class="i18">Methinks, to tint</p> +<p class="i2">Thy glorious features with our pencil's point,</p> +<p class="i2">Or woo thee to the tablet of a song,</p> +<p class="i2">Were profanation."</p></div></div><br> + + +<p> +Early the following morning Florence was astir, begging her father to +take her to the Suspension Bridge. She hardly glanced at the magnificent +appearance of the Canada fall, as the sunbeams changed its floods of +spray into bright showers of diamonds. +</p> + +<p> +There she stood on the piazza, her cheeks flushed with vermilion, and +her dark eyes glowing with the animation and excitement within. +</p> + +<p> +"I cannot take you to the bridge till after breakfast," said her father, +in reply to her urgent appeals to set out immediately. +</p> + +<p> +"Must I wait so long?" said Florence dismally. +</p> + +<p> +While the father and daughter stood debating the point, Florence's +acquaintance of the preceding day appeared, attended by a handsome young +man, whom she introduced as her brother Edward. +</p> + +<p> +Major Howard recollected the Williams family, and seemed gratified to +renew his acquaintance. +</p> + +<p> +"Col. Malcome occupies your old residence," said he to the young man, as +they left the ladies to themselves and walked to the opposite side of +the piazza. +</p> + +<p> +After a pause, Florence asked her companion if she "had ever visited +Wimbledon since she left it." +</p> + +<p> +"No;" answered the young lady, "though I have often desired to do so. +There was a poor washerwoman there, who had a little boy about my own +age, in whom I took a childish interest, and I would like much to learn +something of his fate." +</p> + +<p> +"What was his name?" asked Florence. +</p> + +<p> +"Willie Danforth," said Miss Williams. +</p> + +<p> +"I know a washerwoman by the name of Dilly Danforth," returned Florence. +</p> + +<p> +"That is his mother." +</p> + +<p> +"I do not think she has a child," said Florence doubtfully. +</p> + +<p> +"Then he is dead!" said Miss Williams in a trembling voice. +</p> + +<p> +Florence pitied her emotion, and after a few moments said, "There is a +tall, graceful lad, I think they call Willie Greyson, who lives with the +strange forest-recluse, of whom you have heard, perhaps." +</p> + +<p> +"Greyson!" repeated Ellen; "that I have heard was Mrs. Danforth's maiden +name; but Willie was never called so; besides, why should he leave his +mother to dwell with a hermit? O, no; my Willie must be dead! I said, +when I left him, I should never see him again." And the gentle girl +wiped a tear from her sweet blue eye. +</p> + +<p> +The gentlemen now approached, and Major Howard invited the Williamses to +join them in their visit to the Suspension Bridge; but they had an +engagement with a party to visit Goat Island. Florence felt relieved to +hear this, for she preferred, for reasons of her own, to be attended by +no one but her father on the present excursion. They now descended to +the dining-hall, where an elegant breakfast was served. Florence ate but +a few tiny bits of a delicate crisp muffin, and sipped lightly at her +cup of fragrant Mocha. Her eager desire to gain the bridge destroyed all +relish for the dainty dishes spread in such variety and profusion before +her. At length her father announced a carriage in readiness. Hastily +folding a sheet of note-paper, and placing it in her pocket, she swung +her gold chain over her neck, to which was attached a richly-embossed +pencil, and followed him to the door. They were soon rolling away. +</p> + +<p> +Florence saw nothing till they gained the bridge,—frail, trembling +thing, thrown at such dizzy height above the wild, rushing river. Her +father asked if she would ride or walk over. She would walk, and he +ordered the driver to halt. Assisting her from the carriage, they +stepped upon the swaying fabric. Florence kept close to the railings, +though he cautioned her to walk in the centre, and called her attention +to the fine view of the falls in the distance. But she did not notice +them, and, pausing suddenly, drew the sheet of note-paper from her +pocket and commenced writing. +</p> + +<p> +"What are you doing?" said her father at length, noticing her head bowed +close to the railing. +</p> + +<p> +"Wait a moment and I'll tell you," said she. "There! I believe I have +them all correct now. Shall I read them to you?" +</p> + +<p> +"What are they?" asked he. +</p> + +<p> +"Verses. I found them written in pencil on this painted strip." +</p> + +<p> +"Are they worth reading?" inquired he, carelessly. +</p> + +<p> +"O, yes!" she returned, earnestly. "Very pretty, I think!" +</p> + +<p> +"Well, go on, then!" said he. +</p> + +<p> +She commenced in a low tone, which grew in depth and sweetness as she +proceeded. Surely, if the author had never had the vanity to deem his +brief production possessed of merit, he would have grown into conceit of +it had he heard it falling so sweetly from those half-tremulous lips. +</p> + +<div class="poemtext"> +<div class="stanzatext"> +<p>"Sea-green river, white and foamy,</p> +<p class="i2">Madly rushing on below;</p> +<p>While that fairy-looking fabric</p> +<p class="i2">Bends, and sways, and trembles so;</p> +<p>Fragile, frail and fairy fabric,</p> +<p class="i2">Boldly thrown so wildly high;</p> +<p>Wondrous work of art suspended</p> +<p class="i2">Midway 'twixt the earth and sky!</p></div> + +<div class="stanzatext"> +<p>"Strong and firm the metal wires</p> +<p class="i2">Stretch to Canada's green shores;</p> +<p>As to link with bands of iron</p> +<p class="i2">Queen Victoria's realms to ours.</p> +<p>Passage-way for England's lion,</p> +<p class="i2">Unborn ages may it be;</p> +<p>While above him, in the ether,</p> +<p class="i2">Sails the Eagle of the Free!</p></div> + +<div class="stanzatext"> +<p>"In the distance, dread Niagara,</p> +<p class="i2">Thing of wonder and of fear,</p> +<p>Pours its mighty flood of waters,</p> +<p class="i2">While the echoes soothe the ear.</p> +<p>Nature's wildest forms of beauty.</p> +<p class="i2">All around profusely thrown;</p> +<p>Bowing in her proudest temple,</p> +<p class="i2">Beggared Art, we humbly own!"</p></div></div> + +<p> +As Florence ceased she refolded the paper and placed it in her pocket. +</p> + +<p> +"You did not read the author's name," said her father. +</p> + +<p> +"There was no name attached to them," answered she. "Nothing, only some +initials which were rather indistinct." +</p> + +<p> +"Some modest bard," remarked the major, as they retraced their steps to +the carriage, "who, as Byron says, +</p> + +<div class="poemtext"> +<div class="stanzatext"> +<p class="i8">'Like many a bard unknown,</p> +<p>Rhymes on our names, but wisely hides his own.'</p></div></div> + +<p> +This poet sings of bridges, but does not sign his name to his songs." +</p> + +<p> +Florence was silent during their drive to the hotel. Niagara seemed +suddenly to have lost its interest for her, and after a few more days +they departed, with young Williams and his lovable little sister in +their company. +</p> + + + + +<p class="chapter"> +CHAPTER XXX. +</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">"O, why should Heaven smile</p> +<p>On deeds of darkness—plots of sin and crime?</p> +<p class="i4">I cannot tell thee why,</p> +<p>But this I know, she often doeth so."</p></div></div><br> + + +<p> +While the bright summer passed over Wimbledon, matters apparently moved +on as usual in the quiet little village. +</p> + +<p> +The Woman's Rights Reform lagged somewhat with the thermometer at +eighty, as is frequently the case with benevolent organizations; perhaps +because their zealous warmth, when increased by a high-temperatured +atmosphere, mounts to spirits' boil and evaporates. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Pimble and Mrs. Lawson sat on their respective piazzas, in nankin +pants and open waistcoats, and flapped great peacocks' tails to and fro, +to cool their feverish, perspiring brows. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Pimble, in his wife's sun-bonnet, clappered his heelless slippers at +mid-day along the garden paths, in the vain hope of warming his laggard +blood to a brisker flow. Mrs. Dr. Simcoe was still harassed by those +snarling, ill-tempered brats, "Simcoe's children," who seemed +contagiously disposed to all the "ills which flesh is heir to," as if to +test the skill and try the patience of the lady M. D. +</p> + +<p> +One of the most brilliant moons that ever showered its silvery light +over a flower-covered earth, rode in the liquid zenith of a summer +heaven. The splendid grounds of Major Howard's princely mansion never +slept, in their luxuriant beauty, beneath a lovelier sky. Thick trailed +the heavy vines in their leafy exuberance of foliage over arbors and +green-houses. Whole parterres of brilliant flowers loaded the air with +fragrance, and nightingales sang among the boughs of the lindens that +waved against the wrought-iron palings of the terraces. +</p> + +<p> +Was there aught save the breath of love and peace abroad on the air +to-night? Dared a vile vulture of sin to brush with polluting wing over +the vines and flowers of these odor-breathing, beam-lighted gardens? +</p> + +<p> +There were low voices in one of the most obscure alcoves, and a man and +woman stood in close proximity in its dimmest recess. +</p> + +<p> +A low sigh or sob now and then escaped the woman, as though she +struggled to suppress some choking emotion. +</p> + +<p> +"Come," said the man at length, impatiently, "this blubbering will not +aid your purpose." +</p> + +<p> +"O, Herbert!" she exclaimed, in a tone which entreated compassion, "you +have ceased to love me." +</p> + +<p> +"Ceased to love you?" repeated he, with a low, ironical laugh, "I never +yet began." +</p> + +<p> +"You told me so," said she. +</p> + +<p> +"What if I did?" returned he; "is my veracity so immaculate that my +slightest word is received as an oath of probity? But I came not here to +keep a lover's tryst. You know, or at least I thought you knew, the bond +that unites us; and I ask you again if you will do my bidding and serve +my interests?" +</p> + +<p> +"I have done both," said the woman; "but you have not fulfilled your +promises to me." +</p> + +<p> +"Do you not see the boy when you choose?" +</p> + +<p> +"I see him, but he does not recognize me." +</p> + +<p> +"The better for you that he does not," returned the man. "Do you +suppose, with his position and prospects, he would acknowledge a low +serving-woman for a mother? He would kick her from his presence and +cover her with curses." +</p> + +<p> +"And do you never intend to tell him who is his mother?" asked the +woman, in a trembling tone. +</p> + +<p> +"Certainly not," answered he; "'tis not necessary the boy should know +his own disgrace; but when the proper moment arrives, there are those +who shall learn his parentage to their everlasting shame and +mortification." +</p> + +<p> +"I see no prospect of that moment's ever arriving," said the woman. +"Here's the girl and her father gone off, the Lord knows where, or +whether they will ever return, and all things left unfinished and +incomplete. I must say you manage as an idiot." +</p> + +<p> +"I will judge of my own management," said the man, fiercely. "There has +been sickness in my family, and other things have indisposed me to hurry +a revenge which will be the sweeter the longer 'tis delayed." +</p> + +<p> +"But it may be so long delayed as to fail altogether," suggested the +woman. +</p> + +<p> +"I'll take care of that," answered he. "I fancy I am not so great a +bungler as to overshoot my purposes and baffle my own designs; and, +woman," said he, raising his arm threateningly above her head, "I +caution you to beware. I believe you have already let drop some +unguarded words; else why is your mistress so averse to this engagement, +as I have learned she is, by the boy?" +</p> + +<p> +The woman was silent. He seized her arm fiercely. "Have you blabbed?" he +hissed in her ear. +</p> + +<p> +"No," answered she faintly, and struggling to free herself from his +grasp. +</p> + +<p> +"Has she no suspicions of my proximity?" he demanded. +</p> + +<p> +"None," returned the woman; "as I live she has none." +</p> + +<p> +"Then I would look on her a moment to-night." +</p> + +<p> +"That you can easily do," said she. "I left her sitting in a cushioned +seat, drawn close before an open casement, with the full moon shining on +her face." +</p> + +<p> +"A lucky position! I will show myself to her in a few minutes," he +remarked, as the twain parted. Hannah Doliver proceeded rapidly up the +garden avenue to the mansion, and hurried to the apartment of her +mistress. +</p> + +<p> +The invalid lady was sitting in the same position in which she had left +her an hour before. +</p> + +<p> +"You have been absent a long time, Hannah," she observed in a languid +tone. +</p> + +<p> +"I went as far as Col. Malcome's to learn if they had any recent +intelligence of Florence and her father," returned the woman, divesting +herself of bonnet and shawl. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, had he any tidings of them?" inquired the invalid. +</p> + +<p> +"At last accounts they were at Saratoga, intending in a few days to +start on a tour up the Hudson and St. Lawrence, to Quebec, and thence to +the mountain region of New Hampshire," answered the woman. +</p> + +<p> +"Florence wrote to me from Niagara," remarked the lady; "she seemed in +fine spirits. I wonder if she corresponds with Rufus Malcome?" +</p> + +<p> +"Of course," said Hannah; "a young lady would write to her affianced +husband, if she neglected all others." The invalid turned uneasily in +her chair at these words, and her waiting-woman went into an adjoining +apartment under pretence of performing some duty. +</p> + +<p> +The lady sat listlessly gazing on the lovely scene without, when a dark +object moving up the garden path attracted her notice, and directly the +figure of a man in black, with cap removed from a head of +closely-trimmed auburn hair that clustered in short, thick masses of +luxuriant curls around a high, pale brow, appeared before the casement, +and fixed a bold stare upon her face. No sooner did her eyes encounter +those that glared so fiercely upon her, than she uttered a piercing +shriek, and fell back in her chair with the appearance of one from whom +all life had departed. +</p> + +<p> +Hannah rushed into the room and bore the insensible form of her mistress +to the bed, where she commenced chafing her temples and pouring reviving +cordials down her throat. At length the frightened lady opened her eyes +and stared wildly around. +</p> + +<p> +"Secure that casement," said she, pointing to the still open window; +"and shut all the doors and lock them." +</p> + +<p> +"You will stifle without a breath of fresh air this oppressive night," +grumbled Hannah, as she proceeded to execute the orders of her mistress. +</p> + +<p> +"Better I should stifle," answered the excited and still trembling lady, +"than ever behold again the monster I have seen to-night." +</p> + +<p> +"Heavens! what do you mean?" exclaimed the attendant, appearing to +experience the greatest emotion. +</p> + +<p> +"I have seen <i>him</i>, Hannah Doliver," said the invalid, shuddering +as she spoke. +</p> + +<p> +"Who?" asked the hypocritical woman, breathlessly. +</p> + +<p> +"The destroyer of my happiness and your good fame," answered the lady. +</p> + +<p> +"Impossible!" said Hannah, glaring on the excited features of the +prostrate form before her. +</p> + +<p> +"I tell you I have seen him!" returned the invalid, shaking like an +aspen on her couch. "I cannot be mistaken. 'Twas his face; the high, +colorless brow, surrounded by thick, short auburn curls. He stood at +that casement, and gazed fiercely on me from his large, dark eyes." +</p> + +<p> +"Pshaw!" said Hannah, "'twas but a hideous dream, or a sudden attack of +apoplexy. The man you fancy you have seen to-night, has not been heard +of these fifteen years, and is probably in his grave." +</p> + +<p> +"Then it was his ghost that I saw," said the lady. +</p> + +<p> +"May be it was," returned Hannah, smiling strangely; "though I don't +know why it should have honored you with a visit. I am glad I was not +deemed worthy his ghostship's regards." +</p> + +<p> +The affrighted lady after a while grew calmer, and Hannah retired to her +own apartment, which joined that of her mistress. +</p> + +<p> +In a few days, a letter was despatched to Major Howard by the invalid, +informing him of the strange appearance which had alarmed her, and +urging his immediate return. +</p> + +<p> +The letter never reached its destination. +</p> + + + + +<p class="chapter"> +CHAPTER XXXI. +</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>"Ask why the holy starlight, or the blush</p> +<p>Of summer blossoms, or the balm that floats</p> +<p>From yonder lily like an angel's breath,</p> +<p>Is lavished on such men! God gives them all</p> +<p>For some high end; and thus the seeming waste</p> +<p>Of her rich soul—its starlight purity,</p> +<p>Its every feeling delicate as a flower,</p> +<p>Its tender trust, its generous confidence,</p> +<p>Its wondering disdain of littleness,—</p> +<p>These, by the coarser sense of those around her</p> +<p>Uncomprehended, may not all be vain."</p></div></div><br> + + +<p> +A jubilant party were assembled in Mrs. Leroy Edson's elegant parlors to +witness the marriage ceremony of Jenny Andrews and Richard Giblet. +</p> + +<p> +Even Mrs. Salsify, as one of the groom's former acquaintances, received +an invite to the bridal feast, and appeared in red morocco shoes and a +cap whose ruffles were the astonishment of the entire assembly. Mary +Madeline's squealing baby detained her at home, and perhaps, also, she +did not care to see her former lover, recreant and unfaithful though he +had been to her, take the solemn vow of eternal constancy to another. +</p> + +<p> +The party was more lively than wedding parties usually are. Mrs. Edson +was everywhere, gliding, like the spirit of grace and beauty, among her +guests, enlivening them by her humor, and spreading a rich glow of +geniality through the apartments. If she ever outshone herself, and +surpassed her own surpassing powers, it was to-night. Col. Malcome's +eyes followed her wherever she moved, with an undisguisable expression +of admiration. He seemed rather cast in the shade by her unwonted +brilliancy, and held himself aloof from her side for almost the entire +evening. +</p> + +<p> +Miss Martha Pinkerton noticed him sitting alone and abstracted on a +sofa, and her kind soul was moved with pity for his companionless +situation, so she resolved to cheer his solitude as well as she was +able. Approaching, she assumed a seat on the opposite side of the sofa. +She looked at him, hemmed, and coughed, but he did not seem to heed her +proximity. At length she resolved to speak. +</p> + +<p> +"Col. Malcome," she said, in her softest tone, "do you know you have +never called to take away the shirts you left for me to make more than +two years ago? I have often thought I would take them to you; but sister +Stanhope said I had better wait, as you would call when you wanted them. +I starched and ironed them all up nice for you; but I am sure the +stiffening is all out, and they are as yellow as saffron by this time." +</p> + +<p> +"Ay, Miss Pinkerton, you were very kind," answered he, bowing politely. +"I had forgot my call on your services entirely. I recollect now that I +contemplated a journey at that time, which circumstances prevented me +from undertaking, and that occasioned my forgetfulness of the package +probably. I will call soon and relieve you of it." +</p> + +<p> +"O, 'tis no burden," she answered; "I only thought I would speak to you +about it to let you know 'twas ready any time you might choose to call. +Don't you think the bride looks very beautiful?" she added, turning the +discourse to more elegant subjects now she had gained his ear. +</p> + +<p> +"Ay, quite interesting and pretty," answered he, turning his attention +for a moment toward the young couple who formed the centre of a mirthful +group. +</p> + +<p> +"Mrs. Edson seems to feel wonderful smart to-night," pursued Miss +Martha; "pleased with her success in match-making, I suppose." +</p> + +<p> +"Ah!" said the colonel, "does Mrs. Edson make matches? I wish she would +form one for me." +</p> + +<p> +The modest maiden blushed scarlet at these words, and remained silent. A +group was just passing, and the colonel effected his escape from his +fair companion and joined them. Several voices called for him at the +piano, and, seating himself before the instrument, he commenced a +brilliant performance. In a few moments he became conscious of the form +of Louise standing in the embrasure of a window near by, her whole soul +apparently absorbed in the music. When he arose she had disappeared. He +sauntered slowly to the hall door, and stepped forth upon the piazza. As +he paced slowly down its marble length he came suddenly upon her, +leaning languidly against a vine-covered column. +</p> + +<p> +"Why do you fly your guests?" asked he; "they will soon grow dim without +your presence." +</p> + +<p> +"Because I am weary and dispirited," answered Louise, "and want quiet +and fresh air." +</p> + +<p> +"Dispirited!" exclaimed he; "I have never seen you so startlingly +brilliant as to-night." +</p> + +<p> +She shook her bright head mournfully. The hilarious voices from the +merry groups within came full upon their ears. +</p> + +<p> +"Walk with me a few moments in the cool quiet of the garden," said he; +"here the air comes heavy and tainted from the crowded apartments +within." +</p> + +<p> +She placed her arm passively in his, and they passed down the steps and +entered the shady paths. +</p> + +<p> +"I marvel to find you so moody and glum," he remarked, after they had +proceeded some distance in perfect silence, "when you have been so +unusually gay through the evening." +</p> + +<p> +She made no answer. +</p> + +<p> +"Let us return to the house," said he at length. +</p> + +<p> +"What for?" she asked, turning her clear eyes quickly on his face. +</p> + +<p> +"Because you do not enjoy your company," he answered. +</p> + +<p> +"No, that is not the reason," said she; "'tis because you are weary of +my presence." +</p> + +<p> +"Weary of your presence!" repeated he. "Louise, you don't believe your +own words. May I stay here at your side till I wish to go away?" +</p> + +<p> +"Certainly," answered she. +</p> + +<p> +"Then let me put my arm around you," said he, encircling her waist, "and +lay your dear head here, and you are mine henceforth, for I shall never +leave you." +</p> + +<p> +For a moment her tearful face was hidden on his bosom. +</p> + +<p> +A low wailing wind swept through the shrubbery that surrounded them, and +one single word, thrilling and awful, as if it fell from the lips of an +accusing spirit, smote on their ears—'<i>Beware</i>!' +</p> + +<p> +Louise started from the arm that encircled her and fled toward the +lighted mansion. The party were still occupied in the merry dance, and +no one seemed to have marked her brief absence. +</p> + + + + +<p class="chapter"> +CHAPTER XXXII. +</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>———"Ye mountains,</p> +<p>So varied and so terrible in beauty;</p> +<p>Here in your rugged majesty of rocks</p> +<p>And toppling trees that twine their roots with stone</p> +<p>In perpendicular places, where the foot</p> +<p>Of man would tremble could he reach them—yes,</p> +<p>Ye look eternal!"</p></div></div><br> + + +<p> +Cloud-capped, sky-crowned, mist-mantled, storm-defying Mount Washington! +O, there have been days, and weeks, and months and years, when life's +legion woes pressed heavily upon our souls and bowed our spirits in the +dust; when we dared not glance toward the past, or contemplate the +present, and turned with shuddering dread from the future of starless, +impenetrable gloom; and in those doleful years, through long, long +nights of sleepless pain and agony we have prayed, entreated, implored +grim death to come and ease us of the thorny pangs that tore our +bleeding hearts like venomed arrows. But now on reverent knee we thank +the God of nature, that he has let us live to stand upon thy +sky-piercing summit and look down on the world below! Wild Switzerland +of America! thrice proud are we to call thy granite mountains ours, for +beneath thy snow-capped summits our young existence dawned, and thy +shrill winds and stormy blasts rolled forth the sleeping anthems that +lulled our infant slumbers. +</p> + +<p> +To this wild mountain region came Florence Howard, after luxuriating on +the picturesque Hudson, and dreaming herself in elysian realms among the +"thousand isles" of the queenly St. Lawrence. She was all life and +animation. The excitement of travel and vivid enjoyment of the beautiful +and sublime had banished every trace of the dejection and gloom which +had for many months obscured her brilliancy. Major Howard was delighted +with the improvement in his daughter's appearance, and seemed almost as +young and buoyant as she. Young Williams and his sister were their +constant companions in travel, and Florence found in Ellen a gentle +nature and affectionate heart. +</p> + +<p> +A storm set in on the night of our party's arrival at the Crawford +House, and heavy clouds settled down over the brows of the great +mountains that hemmed in the narrow valley. The hotel was thronged with +visitors, and the new comers had to accept of such accommodations as two +small rooms in the upper story could afford. +</p> + +<p> +"I declare," exclaimed Ellen, when the porters had brought in the +trunks, thrown back the fastenings, and retired, "after rackings, and +tossings, and tumblings enough to disjoint and unhinge a leviathan, to +what a comfortless haven are we arrived at last! O, for a tithe of the +luxury I rolled in at Niagara and Saratoga, or even one of the +state-rooms of the 'Hendrick Hudson' or 'Belle of the Waters!' They were +rooms of state indeed compared with these dismal little pens. How are we +going to turn round in them, Florence, much less unload our trunks of +their wardrobes and array ourselves for appearance in the parlors and +dining saloon?" +</p> + +<p> +"Dear me!" answered Florence, as she stood before the window, blowing +her benumbed fingers, "I don't think we shall have any occasion to open +our trunks, for there is not a frock in mine I could venture to put on, +unless I was willing to be frozen to death within the hour." +</p> + +<p> +"But what are we to do?" said Ellen, approaching the other window and +gazing forth on the dark, stormy evening, that was rapidly closing in +around them. Nothing could be seen beyond the small circle of the valley +in which the house stood, save dense clouds of fog and mist. The rain +poured like a second deluge, and terrific winds roared, and shrieked, +and bellowed like infuriate spirits of the rushing storm. +</p> + +<p> +"What geese we have made of ourselves, Florence!" resumed Ellen, after +she had gazed in silence a few moments on the gloomy prospect presented +to her eyes; "jamming into crowded, uncomfortable coaches, and bruising +and battering our flesh and bones to jelly, all to reach this wonderful +abode of grandeur and sublimity. What 'Alps on Alps' we expected would +tower before our astonished visions! But here we are, sunk in a dismal +abyss on the extreme northern verge of civilization, and never a +mountain to be seen, or anything else save great lowering clouds that +threaten to fall and crush us yet deeper into the earth." +</p> + +<p> +"If I could only get to see the mountains, I would not mind all the +discomfitures," said Florence, peering into the growing blackness +without. +</p> + +<p> +"I tell you there are no mountains," said Ellen, growing impatient in +her disappointment. +</p> + +<p> +"O, yes," returned Florence; "I think there must be a few somewhere in +the vicinity." +</p> + +<p> +"Then why can't we see them?" demanded Ellen. +</p> + +<p> +"They are hidden by the clouds, I suppose," said Florence. "I am told +Mount Washington is veiled in their fleecy mantles for weeks sometimes." +</p> + +<p> +"No doubt it will be thus obscured during our visit," said Ellen, quite +petulantly. +</p> + +<p> +A knock on the door here called their attention. Florence opened it, and +beheld her father, "Well, girls," said he, rubbing his hands, "what do +you think of the White Mountains?" +</p> + +<p> +"When we have seen them we shall be better prepared to give an opinion," +said Florence. +</p> + +<p> +"For my part, I don't believe in them at all," said Ellen quickly. +</p> + +<p> +Major Howard laughed heartily at this pertly announced conviction of the +non-existence of the wonderful summits they had come to behold, and said +he trusted, "when the storm was over, the elephants would show their +terrible heads." +</p> + +<p> +"But are not you half frozen?" asked he, his teeth chattering as he +spoke; "pray come down in the parlors; you will find them warm and +filled with guests." +</p> + +<p> +"We cannot go in our travelling garbs," said Ellen, "and there's no +opportunity here, as you see, to open our trunks." +</p> + +<p> +"Never mind your dark dresses," returned he; "you will not find the +gossamer fabrics that deck the belles of Saratoga in fashion here. The +fair creatures, however much in defiance of their wishes, are obliged to +conceal their white arms and shoulders in thick warm coverings." +</p> + +<p> +"We would be very glad to do so," said Florence; "but unfortunately our +wardrobes were prepared for a temperate, instead of a frigid zone." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, you will do very well as you are to-night; there are a score of +ladies just arrived, all round the parlor fires, in their travel-stained +garbs; so come on," said he, "and don't be bashful. You will hear the +conversation of those who have passed half the summer in this region, +and perhaps Ellen may come to believe in old Mount Washington." +</p> + +<p> +"I shall never believe in it till I have seen it with my own eyes," +returned the fair girl, as she and Florence, under the escort of Major +Howard, descended the flights of stairs to the parlor. +</p> + +<p> +As they entered, a hum of voices struck their ears from every side. +There was a group of ladies and gentlemen round the fire, and several of +them vacated their seats for the convenience of the new comers. A large +woman with a very red face remained in one corner and a young girl sat +by her side. +</p> + +<p> +"Have you just arrived?" asked the former of Florence; who was nearest +her. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, madam," returned Florence, respectfully. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, it is a dismal time for strangers to make their advent, though +the largest arrivals most always occur on such nights as this," said the +fleshy woman, who had rather a pleasant manner, and would have been very +good-looking, Florence thought, but for the rough redness of her +complexion. +</p> + +<p> +"Are such storms frequent here?" inquired Ellen, in a dubious tone. +</p> + +<p> +"Not very," answered the portly lady. "I have been here six weeks, and +have not witnessed so severe a one hitherto. I think myself rather +unfortunate to have been exposed to its severity all day." +</p> + +<p> +Ellen and Florence looked surprised, and the lady continued: "Myself and +daughter joined a large party that ascended the mountains yesterday. We +had a tedious time. I lost my veil, and my face was frozen by exposure +to the biting blasts. The storm came on so furiously we were obliged to +send our horses back by the guides and remain all night." +</p> + +<p> +"What!" exclaimed Ellen, "remain all night on the top of a mountain +exposed to a storm like this! Why did you not all perish?" +</p> + +<p> +"O, we had shelter, and a good one!" returned the lady. +</p> + +<p> +"Where was it? In caves of rocks, or on cold, wet turfs beneath reeking +branches of lofty pines?" asked Ellen. +</p> + +<p> +"Not in caves," answered the lady, "and certainly not on grassy turfs, +or beneath trees of any variety; for old Mount Washington's bleak summit +cannot boast the one or the other." +</p> + +<p> +"What can it boast, then?" inquired Ellen; "wolves and catamounts, that, +together with its shrieking winds, make night hideous?" +</p> + +<p> +"Not wolves, or animals of any species," returned the lady, shaking her +head; "but of huge masses of granite boulders, gray and moss-grown, +heaped in gigantic piles, that eternally defy the blasts and storms of +the fiercest boreal winters." +</p> + +<p> +"O, what a grand thing it must be to stand on its summit!" exclaimed +Florence, with glistening eyes. +</p> + +<p> +"It is, indeed," said the lady, "though I have been pelted by the +merciless storm all day, which added fresh difficulties to the descent, +and still suffer much from my poor, frozen cheeks, I do not for a moment +regret my journey. I suppose you young ladies intend to ascend?" +</p> + +<p> +"I do," said Ellen. "If there is anything here worth seeing, I wish to +see it, after all the fatigue and trouble of getting here." +</p> + +<p> +"O, well," returned the lady, "I assure you there is enough to see. I +have been here, as I have already informed you, six weeks, and some new +wonder bursts upon me every day. You are a little disappointed from +having been so unfortunate as to arrive on this gloomy evening, when +even the nearest views are obscured by clouds. But the guides predict a +splendid day to-morrow. I am sure you will be delighted in the morning +when you rise and behold the great clouds rolling away their heavy +masses and revealing the broad, dark summits of the mountains that hem +in this grassy valley. I shall watch to see you dance into the breakfast +hall in buoyant spirits." +</p> + +<p> +With a pleasant good-evening the lady retired. Florence and Ellen soon +followed. In the upper space they met Major Howard and young Williams, +who were hastening to join them in the parlor. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, sis," said Edward, "Major Howard tells me you vote the White +Mountains all humbug." +</p> + +<p> +"I think Ellen is growing less sceptical," said Florence, "since she has +conversed with a lady who has just descended from their summits." +</p> + +<p> +"O, yes, Nell, there's a Mount Washington, sure as fate," returned +Edward, "and we must ascend its craggy steeps to-morrow; so retire, and +get a refreshing rest to be ready for the fatiguing excursion in the +morning." +</p> + + + + +<p class="chapter"> +CHAPTER XXXIII. +</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2">"Come over the mountains to me, love,</p> +<p class="i4">Over to me—over to me;</p> +<p class="i2">My spirit is pining for thee, love,</p> +<p class="i4">Pining for thee—pining for thee!"</p></div></div> + +<p class="mid"> +<span class="sc">Song</span>.<br> +</p> + + +<p> +The sun rose bright above the mountains of the Crawford Notch on the +following morning, and illuminated with his brilliant rays all the green +valley below. Each member of the large party that proposed to ascend +Mount Washington was at an early hour mounted on a strong-built pony, +and led by a guide into the bridle-path which commenced in the woods at +the base of Mount Clinton. Our little band of travellers were foremost +in the file, Florence and Ellen in the greatest glee of laughter and +spirits. +</p> + +<p> +The whole ascent of Clinton was through a dense forest, over a rough, +uneven path, constructed of small, round timbers, called "corduroys." +They were in a rotted, dilapidated condition, and unpleasant as well as +dangerous to ride over. +</p> + +<p> +Emerging from the woods that covered Clinton, the surrounding mountains +began to appear; and from the grassy plain on the summit of Mount +Pleasant, a view was obtained which called forth rapturous shouts from +the whole company. +</p> + +<p> +The descent of Pleasant was tedious. All the ladies were obliged to +dismount, as the path was very rough, and often almost perpendicular +over precipitous rocks, while the frightful chasm that yawned far below +caused many of the adventurers to grow giddy and pale with fear. +</p> + +<p> +Ellen, who was rather timid, began to wish she had remained in the +valley, and continued to disbelieve in mountains; but Florence was all +exhilaration and eagerness to push onward. +</p> + +<p> +Mount Franklin towered next before them. As Florence, who was among the +foremost, reached its summit, she turned on her pony, and gazed down on +the little cavalcade, winding along up the narrow, precipitous path in +single file, with the guides hurrying from one bridle to another, as a +more difficult and dangerous place occurred in the rough way. And she +thought of Napoleon leading an army over the mighty Alps, and how +dauntless and sublime must be the soul of a man who could successfully +accomplish an enterprise so fraught with perilous hazard and +disheartening fatigue. +</p> + +<p> +As the little company wound their way over the unsheltered brow of Mount +Franklin, tremendous blasts swept down from the summits above, and +threatened to unseat them in their saddles, or hurl the whole party over +the fearful gulfs that yawned on every side. The guides collected the +band together and informed them half their journey was completed. Many a +face grew blank with dismay at this announcement. The weather wore a +less promising aspect than when they set out, and the winds pierced them +through and through. Several proposed to turn back. The guides said +there was about an even chance for the clouds to blow over or gather +into a storm, and the party could settle the point among themselves +whether they would turn back or go on. +</p> + +<p> +A gentleman, with features so muffled she could not discover them, rode +to the side of Florence, and said, in a voice she could barely +distinguish among the clamorous winds that howled over the mountain, "Do +you favor the project of returning tamely to the valley and leaving +Mount Washington a wonder unrevealed?" +</p> + +<p> +"No!" answered she, from beneath her thick veil; the muscles of her face +so stiffened with cold she could hardly move her lips. +</p> + +<p> +"Then ride your pony to the centre of these dissenting groups and +propose to move on," said he. "There are none in the party so +craven-souled as to shrink from what a lady dares encounter." +</p> + +<p> +Florence paused a moment, and then guided her pony into the midst of the +company. +</p> + +<p> +"Do you wish to join those who are going back, Miss?" said a guide, +taking hold of her bridle-rein. +</p> + +<p> +"No!" said she in a tone of decision. "I'll lead the way for those who +choose to follow to the summit of Mount Washington." +</p> + +<p> +"Bravo!"—"hurrah!"—"let us on!"—burst from all sides. Three solitary +ones, among them Ellen Williams, turned back, and the others formed into +file and moved onward. Down Mount Franklin and over the narrow path cut +in the cragged side of Monroe, where a single misstep would hurl the +horse and rider down a fathomless abyss, into whose depths the eye dares +hardly for a moment gaze. Then appeared a crystal lakelet, and a little +plain covered with a seedy-looking grass, where the horses rested and +refreshed themselves ere the last desperate trial of their strength and +endurance; for the weary band of adventurers had reached at last the +base of the mighty Washington, whose summit was veiled in heavy clouds. +As they loitered in the plain, the muffled gentleman again approached +Florence, and inquired if she was unattended. +</p> + +<p> +"No, sir," said she. "My father is among the party, also a friend; but +they are not yet come up." +</p> + +<p> +He lingered a moment, and then asked if she would like to dismount. +</p> + +<p> +As the voice met her ear more distinctly, it struck her it had a +familiar sound, and a sudden thought flashed across her mind. She +thanked him for his politeness, but said she was too cold to move. +</p> + +<p> +Her father and young Williams now appeared. "How do you brave it, +Florence?" said Major Howard, drawing in his breath with a shudder. +</p> + +<p> +"Very well, father," answered she. +</p> + +<p> +When the muffled gentleman heard the name Florence pronounced, he +started suddenly and darted a swift glance on the speaker. Then turning +away, he remounted his steed and rode into the front ranks of the line +that was forming. Soon the band commenced their toilsome ascent. The +path wound over perpendicularly-piled masses of gigantic granite +boulders. Often it seemed the poor tired animals, with their utmost +efforts, would never be able to surmount the prodigious rocks that +obstructed their way. Cold, blustering clouds of mists drove in the +faces of the forlorn little party as they labored up and up the +precipitous steeps, till it seemed to many a despairing heart that the +summit of that tremendous mountain would never, never be gained. So +densely hung the threatening clouds around them, they could not tell +their distance from the wished-for goal. At length the guides halloed to +the foremost rider to halt; and directly Florence felt herself in the +arms of a strong man, who sprang over the craggy rocks with surprising +agility, and soon placed her on the door-stone of a small habitation, +which was not only "founded on a rock," but surrounded on all sides by +huge piles of gray granite boulders. +</p> + +<p> +In a few moments the whole dripping, half-frozen party were landed +safely at the "Summit House," on the brow of Mount Washington. Great was +their joy to find a comfortable shelter where they might rest and warm +their chilled limbs; but great also was their dismay to find a storm +upon them, and nothing visible from the miraculous height they had +toiled to gain, but the wet rocks lying close beneath the small windows. +</p> + + + + +<p class="chapter"> +CHAPTER XXXIV. +</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>"But these recede. Above me are the Alps,</p> +<p>The palaces of Nature, whose vast walls</p> +<p>Have pinnacled in clouds their snowy scalps,</p> +<p>And throned Eternity in icy halls</p> +<p>Of cold sublimity, where forms and falls</p> +<p>The avalanche, the thunderbolt of snow!</p> +<p>All that expands the spirit, yet appals,</p> +<p>Gather around these summits, as to show</p> +<p>How earth may pierce to heaven, yet leave vain man below."</p></div></div> + +<p class="mid"> +<span class="sc">Childe Harold</span>.<br> +</p> + + +<p> +A calm, beautiful morning succeeded a night of terrors. O, is there in +all the world a grander sight than sunrise on Mount Washington? +</p> + +<p> +The first faint rays breaking gradually through clouds of mist, and +dimly revealing the outlines of surrounding peaks; then long, bright +streams, piercing the gloomy depths of the valleys, chasing gigantic +shadows, like spirits of light contending with the legions of darkness; +and, at length, the whole immense sea of mountains brought into majestic +view, with their unnumbered abysmal valleys covered with forests of +every intermingled variety and shade of green. +</p> + +<p> +Florence Howard separated herself from the remaining portion of the +party, and stood alone on the topmost summit, leaning on the moss-grown +side of a granite boulder, gazing in rapt awe and wonder on the awful +sublimity that opened rapidly to her view. Thin, fringy clouds of mist, +white and silvery in the growing light, were flying over the dark sides +of the mountains, resting a moment in the valleys, and then +disappearing, as a dusky form approached the spot where Florence stood. +</p> + +<p> +"We meet again, Miss Howard;" said a voice at her side, low, and deep +with emotion. +</p> + +<p> +"And above the clouds, Edgar;" answered she, turning toward him, her +face radiant as an angel's in the intensity of the emotions which +overawed her soul. "Could we have met so well in any other place as +here, with earth and its turmoils all below, and only the free blue dome +of heaven above our head?" +</p> + +<p> +"Are you glad to have met me here?" asked he, gazing sadly on her +expressive features. +</p> + +<p> +"Can you ask?" said she. "And this is the only spot where I could have +rejoiced to meet you now, for here you will be Edgar to me, and may I +not be Florence to you?" she added, lifting her clear, liquid eyes with +beseeching earnestness to his face. +</p> + +<p> +He could not withstand this gentle appeal, this touching expression. +Softly his arm stole round her slender waist. She placed her little hand +lightly on his shoulder, and laid her head with confiding tenderness on +his bosom. +</p> + +<p> +O, what was Mount Washington in his glory then? What the whole boundless +prospect that spread its sublime immensity before them? Their eyes +looked only in each other's hearts, and they were warm—O, how warm with +love, and hope, and happiness! Mount Washington was cold. They felt a +pity for its great, insensate piles of granite, that loomed up there to +heaven, cold, bare and stony, void of power to feel and sympathize with +human emotions. Wandering to a sheltered nook among the rocks they sat +down together. +</p> + +<p> +An hour passed by, during which each member of the little party was +intently occupied with his own delighted observations, and then Major +Howard recollected the absence of his daughter, who had left his side, +saying she wished to contemplate the sublime spectacle apart from the +rest of the company. Gazing over the cragged summit, he beheld her +approaching with a gentleman at her side. +</p> + +<p> +"Ay, my little truant," said he, advancing to meet her. "So you tired of +your solitary contemplation, after all." +</p> + +<p> +"I found this fair lady roaming among the rocks, and ventured to escort +her to the party," said the gentleman, bowing politely, as he delivered +Florence to the care of her father. +</p> + +<p> +"Thank you, thank you, sir," returned Major Howard, casting a +scrutinizing glance toward the young man as he turned away. +</p> + +<p> +"My daughter, what do you think of this scene?" he asked, turning to +her. +</p> + +<p> +The glowing happiness, which lighted her features with almost +supernatural beauty, astonished him. +</p> + +<p> +"That I have never seen aught so awfully grand and majestic before," +returned she, in a tone of wild enthusiasm. +</p> + +<p> +"Does it surpass Niagara?" +</p> + +<p> +"Infinitely," answered she. "Niagara is grand, but it is a single, +solitary grandeur. Here, our vision encompasses a boundless expanse of +dread, terrific sublimities; a sea of towering Alpine summits on every +hand, with fearfully-yawning gulfs and chasms; tremendous precipices, +over whose dizzy edges, as we look down, and down, and down into the +abysmal depths of bright green valleys, starred over with tiny white +cottages, and graced with winding rivers and waving fields of grain, we +mark the dark straight lines of unnumbered railways, with their flying +trains of cars; countless sheets of water flashing like molten silver; +the spires and domes of numerous hamlets, villages, and cities; and, far +in the distance, the broad Atlantic's dark blue surface, jotted over +with white gleaming sails. O, father, father!" she exclaimed, almost +wild with her emotions of awe and admiration, "is there in all the world +a spectacle to equal that which feasts our vision now?" +</p> + +<p> +"It is a grand scene," said the father, participating in his daughter's +vivid enjoyment. "Look far on those blue summits that bound the prospect +to the west and north. Those singularly-formed peaks you notice are +called Camel's Rump and Mansfield mountains." +</p> + +<p> +"Would I might forever dwell here!" exclaimed Florence, her eyes roaming +in every direction, as though her soul could never drink its fill of the +sublimity around. +</p> + +<p> +Perhaps other delights than the scenery would afford rose in bright +anticipation, and caused her to utter this strange, wild wish. +</p> + +<p> +"You forget the awful winters, Florence, when you would perish beneath +the sky-piled snows," said her father. +</p> + +<p> +"O, I would not mind them!" she answered. "I'd have a little habitation, +hidden down among the rocks, where I could sit by a cosey fire and +listen to the billowy blasts that swept over my home in the clouds." +</p> + +<p> +"Alone, Florence?" asked her father. "Would you dwell alone in a place +so wild with terrors?" +</p> + +<p> +"O, no!" said she quickly. "I would have one companion." +</p> + +<p> +"And who should that be?" +</p> + +<p> +"The one I loved best on earth," replied she, turning her clear eyes on +her father's face. +</p> + +<p> +"And that is"——he paused, and added, interrogatively, "Rufus Malcome?" +</p> + +<p> +Florence started. Her features suddenly lost their glowing light, and +darkened into a contemptuous frown. +</p> + +<p> +"Don't breathe that name here!" she exclaimed, almost fiercely. "It is +not worthy to be spoken in the air of God's own taintless purity." +</p> + +<p> +Her father gazed with astonishment and pity. He had fancied the +repugnance and dislike she formerly evinced toward her affianced husband +was dissipated or forgotten in the multiplied excitements and varieties +of travel; and great was his regret and sorrow to find it still rankling +in her bosom. Both stood silent several moments, engaged in their own +thoughts and emotions. At length several voices exclaimed gleefully, +"The ponies, the ponies are coming!" +</p> + +<p> +Major Howard glanced downwards, and beheld the long line of riderless +horses, attended by the guides, slowly wending their way around the +shelving, precipitous side of Mount Monroe. The company collected +together and agreed to set out and meet them; so, returning to the hotel +among the rocks, they partook of a finely-prepared lunch, and, wrapping +warmly in shawls and blankets went forth on their hard, laborious way, +down the steep path of cragged rocks. Sometimes their feet lighted on a +sharp projection, or by a misstep they fell among the stony piles, +bruising and wrenching their flesh and bones. But, notwithstanding all +the fatigues and hardships of the way, the party were in jubilant +spirits. As the prospect narrowed with the descent, they were all taking +a last look at the disappearing wonders, and shouting their earnest +farewells. +</p> + +<p> +At the "Lake of the Clouds" they halted and drank of its cold, crystal +waters. The ponies were feeding on the plain, and the party gladly +mounted and commenced their long, toilsome descent. +</p> + +<p> +As the shades of evening were falling, their safe arrival in the valley +was hailed by assembled groups on the piazzas of the Crawford House. +</p> + + + + +<p class="chapter"> +CHAPTER XXXV. +</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>"Love thee! words have no meaning to my deep love;</p> +<p>It hath purged me from the weakness of my sex,</p> +<p>And made me new create in thee. Love thee!</p> +<p>I had not lived until I knew thee."</p></div></div><br> + + +<p> +On arriving at the hotel, Florence retired to her room, which she found +vacant, and learned Ellen had joined a party on an excursion to Mount +Willard, one of the loftiest peaks of the Crawford Notch, to whose +summit there is a carriage road. +</p> + +<p> +She drew forth her journal, and, sitting down beside the window, +commenced to write. +</p> + +<p> +Nimbly the golden pen sped over the spotless page, leaving a train of +sprightly thoughts behind it, while the bright face glowed and sparkled +with the buoyant happiness of the soul within. +</p> + +<p> +"I feel like one just dropped from the clouds," she wrote, "and I should +be inconsolable at my sudden descent from the august abode of eternal +sublimities to the grovelling haunts of care and discontent, but that a +sun-soaring spirit companioned and illumined my fall. +</p> + +<p> +"I have stood above the clouds that swept the brows of lofty surrounding +mountains, and seen <i>that star of mine</i> rise sweet and clear upon +my earnest vision, and felt my long-chilled heart grow warm and glad +beneath its beaming rays of light and love. I toiled up the miraculous +steeps of hoary-headed, granite-crowned Mount Washington, to realize a +double joy. The stern, gloomy grandeur was alone sufficient to awaken my +profoundest awe, my strongest admiration; but a warm heart-happiness +stole over me, which spread a mantling glory over all the thousand +dark-browed mountains that loomed in their awful majesty on every side. +</p> + +<p> +"And ever, till my heart has ceased to beat, though I should roam in +foreign lands, along the castled Rhine, or beneath the sunny skies of +classic Italy, Mount Washington will be to me the glory of the earth! +For, standing on its granite piles, while sunrise pierced the gloomy +valleys far below, a love nestled warmly to my bosom, with which I would +not part for India's wealth of gems. How rich am I in the knowledge of +Edgar's love! My soul is strong and firm as the mountains where my joy +was born. Shall I ever tremble or waver again? Am I not mailed in armor +to meet unshocked the battling swords and lances of life's armied +legions of cares and sorrows? With Edgar's love to nerve my soul, what +is there that I cannot endure? Surely, I could survive all things save +separation from him; and is not this the one which will be demanded of +my strength? +</p> + +<p> +"But I will not mar my happiness by dark forebodings of the future. Let +me enjoy the sunshine while it lasts. What shall I say to my +father?—what will he say to me when he learns who was the companion of +my lonely mountain stroll, and the rider at my bridle-rein during all +the long, dangerous descent? I fear he will be angry and hurry me away +immediately; and yet, with his discrimination, I think he must discern +the vast superiority of Edgar Lindenwood to that low-bred, mean-souled +Malcome. +</p> + +<p> +"But it is time this record should end, for twilight approaches, and the +shadows of the great mountains darken over the valley." +</p> + +<p> +She closed her journal just as Ellen Williams, returned from her +excursion, burst into the room. She flung her arms around Florence, and +covered her with frantic kisses. +</p> + +<p> +"O, I am so glad to have you safely back!" she exclaimed; "I feared I +should never behold you again. How did you live through a night like +last on that dreadful mountain-top?" +</p> + +<p> +"We had a comfortable shelter," said Florence, returning her friend's +warm embraces. +</p> + +<p> +"Did you wish you were down here in the valley, when the awful storm +overtook you?" +</p> + +<p> +"No, indeed," answered Florence; "my courage rose above all +difficulties. O, Ellen! you know not what you lost, when, chilled by the +blasts that swept Mount Franklin, you grew discouraged and turned back." +</p> + +<p> +"So Ned tells me," said Ellen; "but I saw sublimity enough from Mount +Willard to fill my little soul with rapture, though I had no +artist-companion at my side to point out the grandest views to my +untaught vision." +</p> + +<p> +Here she fixed an arch glance on Florence, who blushed slightly as she +said: +</p> + +<p> +"I do not understand your quizzical looks." +</p> + +<p> +"Probably not," returned Ellen, in a pleasant, bantering tone; "and if I +should tell you Mr. Lindenwood, the young artist of whom I spoke to you +at Niagara, had made his appearance in these regions, no doubt you would +express appropriate surprise at the information. However, your father +has been impressed with his appearance, and sought an introduction. I +saw them in the parlor but a moment since, engaged in conversation." +</p> + +<p> +"Is it possible?" said Florence, her eyes lighting with pleasure. +</p> + +<p> +"Why, very possible," returned Ellen, "and they seemed mutually pleased +with each other. Come, let us make ready and go down. I promised Ned to +return in five minutes." +</p> + +<p> +The young ladies descended to the parlor, where Florence beheld her +father standing before a table, with Edgar at his side, examining a +volume of engravings. +</p> + +<p> +She approached softly, when Major Howard turned, and introduced his +companion as "Mr. Lindenwood, a former acquaintance of hers, who was +visiting the mountains for the purpose of sketching views, and obtaining +geological specimens." +</p> + +<p> +Florence saw at once, by her father's words and manner, that he did not +suspect Edgar's identity with the muffled figure which had been her +companion on the mountains; and, bowing politely, expressed her +"pleasure at again meeting Mr. Lindenwood." +</p> + +<p> +Ellen and her brother joined them, and the evening passed in pleasant +rehearsals of the wonders and adventures of their late expedition to the +"realms of upper air." +</p> + +<p> +As Major Howard led his daughter to the door of her apartment, he +remarked: "That young Lindenwood is a fine fellow. I declare, I never +thought that wild hermit's boy would grow into a refined, polished +gentleman. You hardly recognized him, did you, Florence?" +</p> + +<p> +"He is very much changed in his appearance," said she, briefly. +</p> + +<p> +"Certainly he is," returned her father; "one seldom meets a handsomer +fellow. He tells me there is a great deal of fine scenery through a +place called the Franconia Notch. He is going there in a few days to +complete some sketches. I think we will join him: now we are here, we +may as well see all there is to be seen;—unless you wish to go home," +he added, finding his daughter silent in regard to the proposed +excursion. +</p> + +<p> +"I wish to go home?" exclaimed she, suddenly; "if you remain here till +that time comes, your head will be white as the snows of these northern +winters." +</p> + +<p> +Laughing at her enthusiasm for mountains, he kissed her cheek and +retired. +</p> + + + + +<p class="chapter"> +CHAPTER XXXVI. +</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>"Most wondrous vision! The broad earth hath not,</p> +<p>Through all her bounds, an object like to thee,</p> +<p>That travellers e'er recorded. Nor a spot</p> +<p>More fit to stir the poet's phantasy;</p> +<p>Grey Old Man of the Mountain, awfully</p> +<p>There, from thy wreath of clouds thou dost uprear</p> +<p>Those features grand,—the same eternally!</p> +<p>Lone dweller 'mid the hills! with gaze austere</p> +<p>Thou lookest down, methinks, on all below thee here."</p></div></div><br> + + +<p> +At the Flume House, three weeks later, we find our little party of +travellers, all in apparently fine spirits and delighted enjoyment of +the wild, enchanting scenery of the Franconia Notch. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, Lindenwood, what do you intend to show us next?" asked Major +Howard, as the group disposed themselves on the sofas of their own +private parlor for an evening of rest and quiet, after a day passed in +visits to different objects in the vicinity. "I declare these mountains +will exhaust me entirely, and I shall be obliged to go away without +beholding one half of their alleged wonders." +</p> + +<p> +Young Williams laughed and said, "You are not half as good a traveller +as your daughter, major. Instead of looking worn and fatigued by her +repeated rambles, she seems more fresh and blooming than on our first +arrival." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," returned the father, looking affectionately on his daughter, "she +thrives wonderfully on mountains. I recollect, when we stood on the +freezing summit of Washington, she expressed a wish to burrow among its +rocks and pass a life-time there, listening to the winds o' nights, and +other like charming diversions." +</p> + +<p> +"I did not think her disposition so solitary," remarked young Williams. +</p> + +<p> +"O, she was not going to dwell alone! She wanted one companion to share +her habitation. I don't know who it was,—perhaps you were the doomed +one!" +</p> + +<p> +"I dare not presume to think Miss Florence would select me for a doom so +blissful," returned he, gallantly. "Her choice would fall on some of my +more fortunate neighbors." +</p> + +<p> +"Rather say <i>un</i>fortunate," said Florence, coloring; "for in that +light I think most people would regard the prospect of a life passed +amid the clouds and storms of Mount Washington." +</p> + +<p> +"Would you thus regard it, Lindenwood?" inquired young Williams, turning +his gaze upon Edgar. +</p> + +<p> +"I don't know," returned the latter. "It might prove an agreeable +summer-home; but I think I would want to fly away on the approach of +winter." +</p> + +<p> +Major Howard drew forth his guide-book and occupied himself turning over +the pages a few moments. +</p> + +<p> +"We have achieved the Flume, the Pool, and the Basin to-day," said he at +length. "Say, Lindenwood, where shall we go to-morrow? You are the +pioneer of the band." +</p> + +<p> +"I have thought, should the day prove fine," answered he, "it would be +pleasant to make an excursion to the summit of Mount Lafayette, or the +'Great Haystack' mountain, as it is sometimes called, which lies several +miles west from this point." +</p> + +<p> +"More mountains towering before us! When shall we have done with them?" +said the major, in a lugubrious tone. "How high is this Haystack you +speak of?" +</p> + +<p> +"But seven hundred feet less than Mount Washington," answered Edgar. +</p> + +<p> +"O dear!" groaned the major. "Heaven save me from attempting the +ascension! Can we do nothing better than tear our clothes and bruise our +shins among brushwood and bridle-paths; clambering up to the sky just to +stare about us a few moments, and then tumbling down headlong, as it +were, to the valleys again?" +</p> + +<p> +"Well," said Edgar, "if the Great Haystack intimidates you, suppose we +ride up through the Notch, and visit the 'Old Man.'" +</p> + +<p> +"What old man?" asked the major. +</p> + +<p> +"The Old Man of the Mountain!" +</p> + +<p> +"I should have no objection to calling on the old fellow," returned +Major Howard, "if he did not live on a mountain; but I cannot think of +climbing up any more of these prodigious steeps,—even to see a king in +his regal palace." +</p> + +<p> +A burst of laughter followed the major's misapprehension of the object +which Lindenwood had proposed to visit. +</p> + +<p> +"It is not a man of flesh and blood we are to see, father," said +Florence, as soon as she could command her voice sufficiently to speak, +"but a granite profile, standing out from a peak of solid rock, exactly +resembling the features of a man's face; whence its name, 'Old Man of +the Mountain.'" +</p> + +<p> +"Ay, that's all, then!" said the major, referring to his guidebook. "I +shall be very glad of the privilege of standing on the ground for once +and looking up at an object; for I confess it afflicts my +kindly-affectioned nature to be forever looking down upon this goodly +earth, as if in disdainful contempt of its manifold beauties. So, +to-morrow, ladies and gentlemen," added he, rising, "we are to pay our +respects to this 'Old Man.' I hear music below. You young people would +like to join the merry groups, I suppose. I'm going down to the office +to enjoy a cigar, and then retire, for my old bones are sadly racked +with the jaunts of to-day. Good-night to you all." Thus saying, he +walked away. +</p> + +<p> +"Would you like to join the dancers, Ellen?" asked Florence, turning to +the fair girl who sat in a rocking-chair by the window, gazing out on +the moon-lit earth. +</p> + +<p> +"I don't care to join the dance," she returned; "but I would like to go +and listen to the music a while." +</p> + +<p> +"Then let us go," said her brother; "that is, if agreeable to Miss +Florence and Mr. Lindenwood." +</p> + +<p> +"I shall be happy to accompany you, Miss Howard," said he, offering +Florence his arm, which she accepted, and the party descended to the +parlors. They were well-lighted, and filled with guests. Edward and +Ellen soon became exhilarated by the music, and joined the cotillons. +Edgar looked in vain for a vacant sofa, and at length asked Florence if +she would not like to walk on the piazzas. She assented, and they went +forth. The evening was cool and delightful. A sweet young moon shed her +pale light o'er the scene, veiling the roughness of the surrounding +country, and heightening its romantic effect. +</p> + +<p> +"I think you are growing less cheerful every day," said he, gazing +tenderly on her downcast features. +</p> + +<p> +"Can you not divine the cause of my depression?" she asked, raising her +dark eyes to his face. +</p> + +<p> +"No," said he, smiling on her. "Won't you tell me?" +</p> + +<p> +"Father says we must return home soon," answered she, turning her face +away. +</p> + +<p> +"Is that an unpleasant prospect to you?" asked he, seeking to obtain a +glance at her averted face. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," returned she; and he thought a shudder for a moment convulsed the +slender form at his side. +</p> + +<p> +They were both silent several moments, and then he remarked, "I intend +to visit Wimbledon in a few months; may I not hope to see you should I +do so?" +</p> + +<p> +"I presume my father will be happy to receive a visit from you," +answered she, in a formal tone. +</p> + +<p> +"But his daughter would rather be excused from my company, I am to +understand," said he. +</p> + +<p> +"O, no! not that," returned Florence quickly, turning her face suddenly +toward him, when he saw it was bathed in tears and marked with painful +emotion. +</p> + +<p> +"What distresses you, Florence?" asked he; gently taking her hand in +his. "Will you not tell me?" +</p> + +<p> +"I dare not, Edgar!" answered she, with fast-falling tears. "I have +wronged you, and you will not forgive me." +</p> + +<p> +"Then you do not love me!" said he, looking sadly on her countenance. +</p> + +<p> +"O, yes! I love you," she returned, in a tone of pathetic tenderness, +"Heaven knows, too wildly well! If that could atone for my fault, I +should not fear to give it expression." +</p> + +<p> +"It can!" said he, pressing her hand closely to his heart. "Believe me, +Florence, it can atone for everything." +</p> + +<p> +Encouraged by his tone and manner she spoke. "I am engaged"—he dropped +the hand and started back—"to Rufus Malcome," she concluded, and then +darting quickly into the hall, flew up stairs and locked herself into +her own apartment. She paced the floor hurriedly several minutes, and +then seized her journal,—always her confidant in moments of affliction. +</p> + +<p> +"I knew it would come to this at last," she wrote. "I have acknowledged +my error, and told him of my engagement with Rufus Malcome. It cost me a +struggle, but I knew he must learn it from some source e'er long, and +better from my lips than those of strangers. He will visit Wimbledon, +and then, O horrible thought! I shall be the bride of another; for +father tells me Col. Malcome is desirous the marriage should be +consummated the approaching winter. I got a long, foolish letter from +Rufus yesterday. O dear, how sick and sorry it made me! It is strange +mother never writes. Col. Malcome says she is not as well as when we +left, and this intelligence disposes father to hasten home. O, my poor +bleeding heart! How soon this little day of happiness has past." She +closed the book, and threw herself on the bed. After a while she fell +asleep, and was roused by Ellen, knocking for admittance. +</p> + +<p> +In the morning she met Edgar in the parlor with her father and young +Williams, the three in earnest conversation about their proposed +excursion to the Profile Mountain. He made her a distant bow. She +returned to her room, and not the most urgent entreaties of her father +could induce her to join the party. She pleaded a violent headache, and +Ellen announced her resolve to remain with her. She cared nothing about +the 'Old Man;' she would stay at home and nurse Florence. So the three +gentlemen departed together, and in a few days the Howards had left the +mountain region and set out for Wimbledon. +</p> + + + + +<p class="chapter"> +CHAPTER XXXVII. +</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i12">"Once more the sound</p> +<p class="i2">Of human voices echoes in our ears;</p> +<p class="i2">And some commotion dire hath roused</p> +<p class="i2">The female ranks. Let's pause and learn</p> +<p class="i2">The drift of all this wordy war of tongues."</p></div></div><br> + + +<p> +Back to the Mumbles, the Wimbles and Pimbles, and their clamorous voices +again dinning in our ears. Will we ever be quit of them? +</p> + +<p> +As cold weather approached, and the atmospheric thermometer descended to +the freezing point, the philanthropic one mounted suddenly to blood +heat. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Pimble and Mrs. Lawson assumed their green legs and strode over +Wimbledon with pompous, majestic tread. The Woman's Rights Reform shook +off its sluggish torpor, and rose a mighty shape of masculine vigor, +strength and power. As in atonement for past sloth and inertness, the +reformists became more active in their several departments than ever +before. Lectures were delivered, clubs formed, and committees appointed +to visit the people from house to house, and stir them up by way of +remembrance, to engage in the great benevolent enterprises of the day. +At length an indignation meeting was announced to be held at the village +church in Wimbledon. The house was thronged at an early hour, and great +excitement pervaded the assembly, when the chairman and other officers +appeared and ascended the platform, which had been erected for their +convenience. It must be admitted that Dea. Allen, sitting in the glaring +light of the uncurtained windows, contemplated with rather wrathful +visage the ample green damask Bloomers, which adorned the lower limbs of +the several officiating ladies; but he quite forgot his anger when the +president sublimely arose, and, advancing to the front of the stand, +said in a loud, commanding tone: +</p> + +<p> +"We will now proceed with the business of this convention. If there is +any person in the house that wishes to pray, she, or he, can do so. We +hold to liberty and equal rights for all." +</p> + +<p> +She then stood in silence several moments, gazing over the assembly with +a self-possessed and confident air. But it appeared no person was moved +with a spirit of prayer. So the lady president, after a preparatory hem, +proceeded with the duties of her office. She, in a brief speech, +explained the reason for holding this meeting, and the object it had in +view. +</p> + +<p> +"I have spoken in public before," said she; "often has my voice been +raised against tyranny and oppression in all its forms; but never until +to-day has it been my happy privilege to address so large an assembly of +the inhabitants of my native village on the holy subjects of freedom and +philanthropy. It inspires my soul with fresh courage to behold your +eager faces, for they seem to say your minds are awakening to the +demands of the down-trodden portions of your race. We hold this +convention to arouse an interest in the cause of reform, which shall +lead to strong and energetic action. +</p> + +<p> +"It is too painfully true that Wimbledon is a sink of immorality, vice +and pollution, where moral turpitude stalks with giant strides, and +abominable barbarisms are practised under the glaring light of heaven. +(Sensation.) The object of this meeting is to crush the oppressor's +might, and raise his hapless victims to their proper position in +society. I call upon the women of this assembly to rise from the depths +of their degradation, rush boldly in the faces of their enslavers, and +assert their rights; and, having asserted, maintain them, even at the +point of the sword. (Sensation and murmurings.) A series of resolutions +will now be presented for the consideration of the convention." +</p> + +<p> +She turned to Mrs. Lawson, who sat majestically in a large arm-chair, +her strong arms folded on her broad chest, and whispered a few words in +her ear. While she was thus engaged, Mr. Salsify Mumbles rose, and said +in a loud tone: "Gentlemen and ladies, I rise for the purpose"—— On +hearing the sound of his voice, the lady president rushed to the edge of +the platform, and glaring on the upright figure, which shook like an +aspen beneath her fiery eyes, exclaimed, in thundering accents, "What +are you standing there for, you booby-faced, blubber-chopped baboon in +boots?" +</p> + +<p> +"I wish to speak," stammered the terrified man. He could utter no more. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>You</i> speak!" said the lofty president, in a tone of the most +supreme contempt,—"sit down." +</p> + +<p> +The poor creature dropped as quick as though he had received a cannon +ball in his heart. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Pimble retired, and Mrs. Secretary Lawson arose, adjusted her green +spectacles, and, taking a roll of papers from the table, advanced to the +front of the stand. Elevating her brows, she said: +</p> + +<p> +"I will now read several resolutions which have been handed in since the +opening of the meeting. +</p> + +<p> +"First, Resolved, That the enfranchised women of Wimbledon use their +combined efforts for the liberation of their suffering sisterhood, who +yet groan beneath the despotic cruelties of the oppressor man." +</p> + +<p> +The secretary sat down. The president arose. "Are there any remarks to +be made on this resolution?" she said. +</p> + +<p> +None were forthcoming. +</p> + +<p> +"Then I move its adoption." +</p> + +<p> +"I second the motion," squealed a little voice from some remote corner. +</p> + +<p> +The secretary came forward. "All in favor of this resolution will please +say, ay." +</p> + +<p> +A score of voices were heard. +</p> + +<p> +"It is unanimously accepted," said she. "I will now proceed to the +reading of the second. +</p> + +<p> +"Resolved, That, as a means of humbling and destroying the tyranny which +the monster man exercises over the larger portion of the women of +Wimbledon, six of the usurpers be converted into lamp-posts, and placed +at the corners of the principal streets, with tin lanterns fixed upon +their heads, to light the cause of philanthropy in its midnight +struggles." (Sensation, and several brawny hands scratching uneasily at +the apex of their craniums.) +</p> + +<p> +The secretary sat down; the lady president arose. "This is a very +spirited as well as elegant resolve," said she, "and cannot fail of +securing universal approbation. Mrs. Secretary, you will please read the +remaining portion, and then all can be adopted by one joint action of +the house." +</p> + +<p> +"There are but two brief ones to follow," said the secretary, again +coming forward. +</p> + +<p> +"First, Resolved, That the tortuous channel of Wimbledon river be made +straight, and the tyrant man be compelled to perform the labor with +three-inch augers and pap-spoons. +</p> + +<p> +"Secondly, Resolved, That, the steeple of this church, which looms so +boldly impious toward the sky, be felled to the ground, and be converted +into a liberty-pole, with the cast-off petticoats of the enfranchised +women of Wimbledon flaunting proudly from its summit, as an emblem of +the downfall of man's bigotry and despotism, and the triumphant +elevation of woman to her proper sphere among the rulers of the earth." +</p> + +<p> +Great sensation as the lady secretary pronounced the foregoing resolves, +with strong impressiveness of tone and manner. As she retired, Dea. +Allen rose. The lady president sprang from her seat. +</p> + +<p> +"Sit down!" shrieked she, bringing her foot to the platform with a +violence that caused it to tremble. But the deacon did not drop at this +sharp command, as Mr. Mumbles had done. +</p> + +<p> +"I thought you held to liberty and equal rights," said he, with an air +of some boldness. +</p> + +<p> +"I do,—and therefore I tell you to sit down." +</p> + +<p> +"I will speak," said he, returning the defiant looks cast upon him by +both president and secretary; "for religion and right demand it. If you +dare profane with your sacrilegious hands the holy steeple of this house +of God, avenging justice will fall with crushing weight upon your guilty +heads." +</p> + +<p> +Having delivered himself of this dread prediction, the deacon sat down. +</p> + +<p> +In her loftiest style, Mrs. Pimble moved the adoption of the +resolutions, vouchsafing no word of comment on the impertinent +interruption. A brawling, discordant shout of "Ay—ay—ay," in every +possible variety of tones, from a swarm of boisterous boys and ranting +rowdies, was declared a unanimous approval, and in a storm of hisses and +hurrahs the indignation meeting triumphantly adjourned. +</p> + + + + +<p class="chapter"> +CHAPTER XXXVIII. +</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">"Fare thee well! and if forever,</p> +<p class="i6">Still forever, fare <i>thee well</i>,</p> +<p class="i4">Even though unforgiving, never</p> +<p class="i6">'Gainst thee shall my heart rebel.</p></div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">Yet, O, yet thyself deceive not;</p> +<p class="i6">Love may sink by slow decay,</p> +<p class="i4">But by sudden wrench, believe not,</p> +<p class="i6">Hearts can thus be torn away.</p> +<p class="i4">Still thine own its life retaineth,</p> +<p class="i6">Still must mine, though bleeding, beat,</p> +<p class="i4">And the undying thought which paineth,</p> +<p class="i6">Is, that we no more may meet."</p></div></div><br> + + +<p> +Sudden death had entered the home of Louise Edson and made her a widow. +Her husband died of cholera, in a distant city, whence he had gone for +the purchase of goods, and was brought home a corpse. Louise reeled to +earth beneath the sudden and unexpected blow. Her soul was lacerated by +constant memory of the wrong she had done him, and it seemed to her +aroused and trembling conscience that avenging Heaven had taken to +itself the man she had so deeply injured, and left her to grope darkly +on in her own wickedness and sin. True she had been cruelly disappointed, +and through long years compelled to struggle on in all the bitter +loneliness of feelings unreplied to, bound by indissoluble chains to one +who had no tastes or sympathies in common with her. Death had freed her +now, but, ah! too late. The taint of sin was on her soul. She had forgot +her vows at the altar, debased herself and wronged her husband by +listening to words of passion from another. O, far less bitter would +have been her grief, as she stood weeping over his lifeless form, could +she have laid her hand on the cold, damp brow and said, "I have loved +thee ever, and through life's cares and perplexities stood closely at +thy side to cheer and smooth thy pathway." But this she could not say. +She only felt that the soul had gone to God, to learn her falsity and +sin, and looked from the skies upon her with grief and avenging anger. +Bitterly she thought of the man who had led her from the path of +rectitude, and resolved to see him no more. As a self-inflicted penance, +she immured herself within the walls of her own mansion, and determined +to pass the remainder of her life in solitude. Many of her numerous +friends sought admittance to express sympathy and condolence in her +affliction, but she refused to see them and resisted all their +overtures. Only one person gained entrance to her seclusion. That was +Mrs. Stanhope, whose kind heart was deeply pained by the apparently +incurable sorrow that had settled on the mind of her young friend, and +strove, by every effort in her power, to lighten her woes and lead her +to more hopeful views of the future. +</p> + +<p> +"It grieves me," said she, "to see you, in the bloom of youth and +health, immure yourself in a living tomb, and refuse the consolations +you would receive from intercourse with your species." +</p> + +<p> +"I want no more of the world," answered the sufferer; "it has no +pleasure or enjoyment for me." +</p> + +<p> +"But, my dear, you should not allow your feelings to overpower your +better judgment," remonstrated Mrs. Stanhope. +</p> + +<p> +"Ah, my feelings!" said Louise, bitterly, with tears rolling over her +pale cheeks; "they have been my destruction. Had I always controlled +them, I had not been the miserable creature I am to-day." +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Stanhope hardly understood this passionate outburst, but she still +strove to soothe and comfort her afflicted friend. +</p> + +<p> +"Your brow is hot and feverish," said she, rising to depart. "I caution +you to calm yourself and take some rest, or severe sickness will +prostrate you ere long." +</p> + +<p> +"And why should I fear sickness or death," asked Louise, in a hopeless +tone, "when the only calm for me is the calm of the grave, the only rest +its dreamless slumbers?" +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Stanhope gazed on the suffering face with tearful pity, and turned +away. On opening the hall door, she encountered Col. Malcome, pacing to +and fro on the icy piazza. He started suddenly on beholding her, and +asked if she came from Mrs. Edson. Mrs. Stanhope answered affirmatively. +</p> + +<p> +"And how have you left her?" inquired he, with an expression of strong +anxiety and emotion on his features. +</p> + +<p> +"She seems deeply afflicted," returned Mrs. Stanhope. +</p> + +<p> +"Does she still persist in refusing to see her friends?" asked he. +</p> + +<p> +"She is thus disposed, I regret to say," was Mrs. Stanhope's reply. +</p> + +<p> +"Would you do me the favor to return, and entreat her to grant me a few +moments in her presence?" inquired he, in an earnest tone. +</p> + +<p> +"I will perform your request with pleasure," she said; "but I fear I +shall bring you naught but a gloomy refusal." Thus saying, she reëntered +the apartment of Louise. +</p> + +<p> +"I am come with a petition, Mrs. Edson," she remarked, approaching her +side, and laying a hand softly on the bowed head. "Will you grant it +your favor?" +</p> + +<p> +"I must hear it first," said Louise. +</p> + +<p> +"Col. Malcome is walking on the piazza; he wishes to see you." +</p> + +<p> +"Go and tell him, in another and a darker world I'll see him; never +again in this," answered Louise, starting to her feet, her whole frame +trembling with excitement and anger. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Stanhope was astonished and alarmed at her appearance, and stood +gazing on her in wondering silence. At length she said, "I cannot take a +message like that to him; he would think it the wild raving of a +lunatic." +</p> + +<p> +"Tell him, then, to go away, and never approach these doors again," said +Louise, suddenly bursting into tears. Mrs. Stanhope lingered in surprise +at her friend's emotion, and strove to soothe it. +</p> + +<p> +"Go," said Louise; "I command you to go, and send him away. I shall die +if I hear another of his footfalls on the piazza." +</p> + +<p> +Alarmed by the dreadful energy of her manner, Mrs. Stanhope hurried +away. The colonel came eagerly to her side, as she stepped forth. +</p> + +<p> +"Does she refuse me?" he asked. +</p> + +<p> +"She does," said Mrs. Stanhope. +</p> + +<p> +"And does she give no encouragement that I may gain admittance at some +future time?" +</p> + +<p> +"None." +</p> + +<p> +"Then carry this to her," said he, placing a small, folded letter in +Mrs. Stanhope's hand, and turning dejectedly away. +</p> + +<p> +Again she entered the mansion. Louise sat with head bowed between her +hands, and did not raise her eyes. Mrs. Stanhope laid the missive on the +table beside her, and silently left the apartment. +</p> + +<p> +Twilight deepened into evening, and still the suffering woman sat there, +in mute, unutterable agony. A servant entering with lights at length +aroused her to consciousness, and her eye fell on the folded letter +lying on the stand. Hastily tearing away the envelope, she dropped on +her knees, and ran over its contents with devouring eagerness, while her +features worked with strong, conflicting emotions, and tears rolled +continually from her beautiful eyes and blistered the written page. "Why +do you drive me from you?" it began. "If, in an unguarded moment, under +the intoxicating influences which your bewitching presence, the quiet +seclusion of the spot, and romantic hush and stillness of the hour threw +around me, all combining to lap my soul in delicious forgetfulness of +everything beyond the momentary bliss of having you at my side, I +suffered words to escape my lips, which should have remained concealed +in my own bosom, you might at least let the deep, overpowering love +which forced their utterance, plead as some extenuation for my +presumption and error. But it seems you have cast me from you +forever—unpitied—unforgiven. O, Louise! I did not think you so +implacable. The sin is mine, and I would come on bended knee to implore +pardon for the suffering and sorrow my rashness has brought to your +innocent heart; but you fly from my approach, and banish me from your +presence. No mercy for one, who, though he may have erred, is surely +atoning for his errors by anguish as deep, as poignant as your own. +Night after night I walk the piazza beneath your windows. I know you +hear my step and feel that I am near. But you will not open the casement +and let me for a moment behold your features and crave your forgiveness. +O, Louise, am I to die without a pitying word or look from you? +</p> + +<p> +"I sit by my Edith's bed-side through long, weary midnight hours, and +she wakes from her fitful slumbers and asks for you. 'Why does she never +come to see me now? There's no arm raises me so lightly, no hand bathes +my brow so gently, as hers. Will you not bring her, father?' +</p> + +<p> +"O, what agony these words inflict! I have to feel my own rashness and +folly have deprived my sick child of a tender nurse. Louise, do you not +remember one dear, bright morning, long ago, when I was sitting at the +piano in that pleasant parlor I'm forbidden to enter now, and you stood +beside me in all your bewildering grace and beauty, that I sought from +you a promise which was given? Still, still would I conjure you, as +Steerforth said to David, <i>think of me at my best</i>. You will need +to do it soon; for your contempt and scorn are hurrying me on to deeds +of crime and wickedness. O, will you drive me to the wretch's doom, or +win me to a life of happiness and virtue? It is yours to decide." +</p> + +<p> +Such were the contents of the letter which remained clenched in the +grasp of the agitated woman through the long hours of that woe-fraught +night. When the first gray tints of dawn were visible, she started and +hid it away in her bosom. Grasping a pen she traced a few lines with +trembling hand, and placed them in an envelope directed to Mrs. +Stanhope. Then unclosing her wardrobe, she selected a few articles of +clothing, made them into a small bundle, and wrapping a heavy shawl +round her slender form, and concealing her features in a large black +bonnet with a long, thick veil, she opened softly the hall door, and +stole forth into the cold, biting air, walking hurriedly over the frosty +paths till she had gained the lonesome country road beyond the village. +</p> + +<p> +As Mrs. Stanhope was sitting down to breakfast, a knock called her to +the door, where she beheld Mrs. Edson's servant, who presented her with +a letter, and said her mistress had gone away very suddenly, and she +would like to know if she had left any word as to when she would return. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Stanhope broke the seal, and read with surprise and astonishment +depicted on her features. The girl stood waiting to learn its contents. +</p> + +<p> +"I think," said Mrs. Stanhope, suddenly recollecting herself, "that your +mistress will be absent some time. She informs me she has gone on a +visit to the aunt with whom she resided previous to her marriage." +</p> + +<p> +"Where does her aunt live?" asked the girl. +</p> + +<p> +"I do not know," returned Mrs. Stanhope, "but I think at a considerable +distance from this place." +</p> + +<p> +The girl retired, and Mrs. Stanhope reëntered the breakfast room. +</p> + +<p> +"Who was in the porch?" inquired Miss Pinkerton, as her sister assumed +her place by the coffee urn. +</p> + +<p> +"Mrs. Edson's servant," returned she, arranging the cups with an absent +air. +</p> + +<p> +"What did she want?" asked Miss Martha, opening her muffin and dropping +a piece of golden butter on its smoking surface. +</p> + +<p> +"She brought me a note from her mistress," said Mrs. Stanhope, "who has +departed suddenly on a visit to her aunt, and wishes me to superintend +the care of her mansion for a time." +</p> + +<p> +"I guess she is coming out of her dumps," said Martha. "I always said +there was no danger of her dying of grief for the loss of a husband. +She'll come home one of these days a gay widow, and set her cap for Col. +Malcome. I always thought she had a liking for him." +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Stanhope made no reply to this unfeeling speech. After breakfast +the colonel chanced in to take the long-forgotten package away, when he +learned of Louise's sudden departure, and went home in a state of +increased anguish and despair. +</p> + + + + +<p class="chapter"> +CHAPTER XXXIX. +</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">"To the old forest home</p> +<p class="i6">I hie me again;</p> +<p class="i4">But I bring not the gladness</p> +<p class="i6">My spirit knew when</p> +<p class="i4">I roamed in my childhood</p> +<p class="i6">Its wide-spreading bounds;</p> +<p class="i4">For sorrows have pierced me,</p> +<p class="i6">My soul wears the wounds."</p></div></div><br> + + +<p> +The Hermit of the Cedars sat in his antique room alone, by a peat-wood +fire. He appeared wrapt in moody thought and contemplation, though ever +and anon, as the wintry blast gave a wilder sweep over the swaying roof +above him, he turned and glanced uneasily toward the door, as though he +wished and waited the appearance of some form over its threshold. But +the hours passed on, and no one came to cheer his loneliness. So, +heaping the ashes over the glowing embers, he betook himself to his +lowly couch, but his head had hardly touched the pillow when a quick +step crackling along the icy path struck his ear. Ere he could reach the +door it was pushed open, and a voice called out hastily, "Uncle Ralph!" +</p> + +<p> +"Edgar, my boy!" exclaimed the hermit, groping in the darkness to clasp +him in his arms. "Are you returned at last?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, dear uncle," answered the young man; "I reached the village by the +evening stage, and hurried with all speed to my old forest home." +</p> + +<p> +The hermit lighted a candle and raked open the coals. A bright fire soon +burned on the hearth, and by its ruddy blaze the fond uncle marked the +changes two years had wrought in the appearance of his nephew. He was +taller, and a manly confidence of tone and manner had succeeded the +reserve and timidity which characterized his boyhood. The luxuriant +masses of soft brown hair were brushed away from the clear, pale brow, +and the deep blue eyes glowed in the conscious light of genius and +intellectual fervor. The hermit gazed with ardent admiration on the +commanding elegance and beauty of the form before him. +</p> + +<p> +"Education and travel have made a wonderful improvement in your +appearance, my boy," he remarked at length, his voice trembling with +emotion as he spoke. "Still I don't know but I liked you better as the +curly-headed boy in morocco cap and little blue frock-coat, that used to +come bounding over the forest path, with his satchel in hand; or set +here of long winter evenings, reading some treasured volume at my side; +or perched within the window nook gazing silently upward at the +glistening stars;—for the dreamy boy I could keep near me, but the +lofty, ambitious man I cannot hope to prison here in a solitary +wilderness,—nor should I indulge in a wish so selfish," he added. "Tell +me, Edgar, of your travels, your enjoyments and occupations, since you +departed from this lowly roof." +</p> + +<p> +The young man gave a brief rehearsal of the principal events of the past +two years. He hesitated somewhat when he came to his meeting and renewal +of acquaintance with Florence Howard, recollecting his uncle's former +aversion to their intercourse. He might have passed over it in silence, +but his delicate sense of honor would not allow him to deceive in the +smallest point the heart that loved him so devotedly. The listening man +bent earnest, scrutinizing glances on the speaker's face as he proceeded +with his tale, and when it was finished, bowed his gray head on his thin +hands, as was his wont when engaged in deep thought, and remained +silent. +</p> + +<p> +At length a tremendous blast swept through the forest, blew open the +door, and scattered the coals from the deep fire-place over the floor of +the apartment. The moody man started from his reverie. Edgar secured the +door, and, taking a broom composed of small sprigs of hemlock and cedar, +brushed the scattered embers into a pile. +</p> + +<p> +"Do you not wish to retire?" asked the hermit, as the young man resumed +his seat in the corner. +</p> + +<p> +"As you wish, uncle," returned he; "I do not feel much fatigued." +</p> + +<p> +"Ay, but I think you are so," said the kind-hearted man, regarding +attentively his nephew's features. "My joy at beholding you has rendered +me forgetful of your physical comforts. Let me get you some refreshment, +and then you shall lie down and rest your weary limbs." +</p> + +<p> +The hermit took a small brown earthen jug from a rude shelf over the +fire-place, and, pouring a portion of its contents into a bright-faced +pewter basin, placed it on a heap of glowing coals. Then going to a +cupboard he brought forth a large wooden bowl, filled with a coarse, +white substance. When the contents of the basin were warm he placed it +on the table, and setting a chair, said, "Come, my boy, and partake of +this simple food. 'Tis all I have to offer you; not like the dainty +repasts at which you are accustomed to sit in the abodes of wealth and +fashion." +</p> + +<p> +Edgar approached and took the proffered seat. +</p> + +<p> +"Ay," said he; "you have served me a dish more grateful to my palate +than the most delicately-prepared dainties would prove. This rich, sweet +milk is delicious, and who boils your hominy so nicely, uncle?" he +continued, conveying several slices of the substance in the wooden bowl +to his basin. +</p> + +<p> +"Dilly Danforth, the poor village washerwoman, cooks it, and her boy, +Willie, brings it to me," answered the hermit. +</p> + +<p> +"Ay, the lad you mentioned in one of your letters," said Edgar. "Why +does he not remain with you altogether? You seemed happy in his +companionship, and I hoped he might become to you a second Edgar." +</p> + +<p> +A strange expression passed over the face of the recluse as his nephew, +with much earnest truthfulness of manner, gave utterance to these words. +</p> + +<p> +"I did like to have the boy with me," he remarked; "but his mother was +lonely without him." +</p> + +<p> +Edgar rose from his simple repast. +</p> + +<p> +"Now you had better retire," said his uncle, tenderly; "though I fear +you will rest but ill on my hard couch." +</p> + +<p> +"My slumbers will be sweet as though I reposed on eider down," returned +he, "if you will but assure me that my coming or words have not marred +your quiet and composure." +</p> + +<p> +"My boy," said the hermit, gazing on him anxiously, "what do you mean? +How should the arrival of one I have so longed to behold give aught but +joy to my lonely soul?" +</p> + +<p> +"I may have spoken words that grieved you," said the young man, +sorrowfully; "but I could not bear to conceal the truth from you, dear +uncle;" and his voice trembled as he spoke. +</p> + +<p> +"Edgar," returned the hermit, with emotion, "I am grateful for your +confidence, and though I could have wished your heart's affections +bestowed on some other woman, I will no longer oppose your inclinations. +Marry Florence Howard if you choose." +</p> + +<p> +"Marry her!" exclaimed Edgar, suddenly breaking in upon his uncle's +discourse. "She is engaged to another." +</p> + +<p> +"What is his name?" asked the hermit. +</p> + +<p> +"Rufus Malcome," returned the young man. +</p> + +<p> +"What! a brother to the girl I saw with you on the river bank?" inquired +the recluse, with a sudden excitement of manner. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," said Edgar; "the brother of Edith Malcome." +</p> + +<p> +"O, the mysterious workings of fate!" exclaimed the hermit, falling +again into a ruminating silence, which Edgar did not deem it wise to +disturb. +</p> + +<p> +So they laid down on the lowly couch, and the young man, fatigued with +his journeyings, drew the coverings over his head to exclude the shrill +shriekings of the sweeping blasts, and soon rested quietly in the sweet +forgetfulness of sleep. +</p> + +<p> +Sleep! angel ministrant to the grief-stricken soul. How many that walk +this verdant earth would fain lie locked in her slumberous arms forever! +</p> + + + + +<p class="chapter"> +CHAPTER XL. +</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>"No voice hath breathed upon mine ear</p> +<p class="i4">Thy name since last we met;</p> +<p>No sound disturbed the silence drear,</p> +<p>Where sleep entombed from year to year,</p> +<p class="i4">Thy memory, my regret."</p></div></div><br> + + +<p> +In her own elegantly appointed apartment sat Florence Howard, with her +journal open upon the table. +</p> + +<p> +"Beneath the old roof-tree of home once more," she wrote, "to find my +mother's pale face yet paler than when I left her, and a sudden tremor +and nervousness betrayed on the slightest unusual sound, which is +exceeding painful to witness. +</p> + +<p> +"Hannah's penchant for me seems to have decreased somewhat, since father +waited on Col. Malcome and asked his consent to the delay of my proposed +nuptials with Rufus, till some change should occur in mother's health. +Dr. Potipher thinks she will hardly survive the trying weather of the +approaching spring. +</p> + +<p> +"Poor, dear mother! what shall I do without her? But I may not linger +long behind. +</p> + +<p> +"I used to think I was very miserable, when I pined in ignorance of +Edgar's love, and grew jealous of his attentions to gentle Edith +Malcome; but what were those petty griefs, compared with the agony of +having known the sweet possession of his heart, and lost it,—lost it, +too, through my own selfish folly and weakness? Truly, there's naught so +bitter as self-reproach. Heaven only knows what I have suffered since +that dreadful night, when I fled from his angry, reproachful looks, and +locked myself in the solitude of my chamber. And that freezing, distant +recognition on the following morning! O, what a shuddering horror will +ever creep over me with the memory of Franconia Notch! And Mount +Washington,—which was for aye to tower above all other scenes of +grandeur earth's broadest extent could afford,—a thought of it unnerves +my soul with grief. What short-sighted mortals are we! +</p> + +<p> +"I think my father suspects my secret and reproaches himself for giving +me so free access to Edgar's company. I would not wonder if the delay he +has urged to my marriage were influenced as much by this sad knowledge +as my mother's failing health. Col. Malcome gave a reluctant assent, at +which I am surprised. When his sweet daughter is sinking slowly into +the grave, 'tis strange he can think of any earthly interest. +</p> + +<p> +"I have looked mournfully toward the cedar forest to-night, and thought +of the poor lone hermit in his humble hut, and wished, O, how fervently +wished! that I, like him, had a habitation afar from the world's hollow +throngs, where I could sit and brood in solitude over my broken heart! +</p> + +<p> +"Am I not a living, breathing, suffering example of the truth of Byron's +eloquent words? +</p> + +<div class="poemtext"> +<div class="stanzatext"> +<p>'The day drags on, though storms keep out the sun,</p> +<p>And thus the heart will break, yet brokenly live on.'"</p></div></div> + +<p> +Florence closed her journal, and approached the window. +</p> + +<p> +As she was dropping the curtain to retire, a dark figure moving +stealthily under the leafless branches of the lindens, which stood in +rows on the least public side of the house, arrested her attention. The +remembrance of a similar appearance she had once seen crossed her mind, +and no ill having followed that, she dismissed her fears, and ere long +sank to rest. +</p> + +<p> +When the village clock pealed forth the hour of midnight, the dark +figure she had observed, stood on the terrace below. The hall door swung +noiselessly on its hinges, and Hannah Doliver stepped forth. "Here are +the matches and kindling-wood," said she in a whisper, approaching the +dusky form, and holding a small basket forward. +</p> + +<p> +"Are they all asleep?" asked a hushed voice. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," answered she. +</p> + +<p> +"See that you give the alarm in season," returned the muffled figure, as +he took the basket from the woman's hand, and passed softly down the +steps of the piazza. +</p> + +<p> +Silently the destroying fires were lighted. But the midnight incendiary +would have proceeded less deliberately with his work of destruction, had +he marked the tall, lank figure in a long, dark overcoat, and +slouching-brimmed hat, which slowly dogged closely his every footstep. +Suddenly a bright flash leaped up from the fragments the wicked man +sought to enkindle, and revealed his garb and features. A mingled +expression of hatred and revenge glared from the sunken eyes of his +follower, who stood in the shadow of a linden near by, as the pale, +handsome features and light, curling locks of the incendiary met his +gaze. +</p> + +<p> +"Villain!" exclaimed he, springing forward, as the man turned with a +hurried step from his work of destruction; "would you burn innocent +people in their beds?" +</p> + +<p> +With one fell blow the man dashed the lank form to the earth, and fled +down the avenue of cedars, which led to the river, never heeding the +startled looks of a thin woman, and tall, graceful youth, against whose +sides he brushed in his guilty flight. +</p> + +<p> +"Who could that flying figure have been?" asked the lad of the woman, +when the man had rushed past. +</p> + +<p> +"I don't know, indeed, Willie," answered she, "unless it was your +friend, the hermit, gone wild. You say he has been more gloomy than +usual for several days." +</p> + +<p> +"O, no!" returned the youth; "it was not the hermit. I distinguished +this man's features very plainly as he passed, and it was no one I ever +saw before. He had no covering on his head, and his hair was light and +curly. His face seemed glowing with rage and anger." +</p> + +<p> +"It must have been some lunatic escaped from the asylum," said the +woman. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, I think you are right, mother," answered the boy. "I hope he has +not harmed the poor hermit, whom I left sitting on a stone among the +cedars, near Major Howard's mansion. He came thus far with me to-night, +as it was so late, and the way long and gloomy." +</p> + +<p> +"Ah! he was very kind," remarked the woman. "I began to fear you were +not coming for me, Willie, and thought I should have to remain at Mr. +Pimble's all night, or go home alone. Is the hermit's nephew still with +him?" +</p> + +<p> +"No, he went away this morning, and the poor old man is very lonely and +sad. He said he wished I could be with him all the time." +</p> + +<p> +"Strange being!" said the woman. "Why does he not leave the forest, and +dwell among his fellow-men?" +</p> + +<p> +"I think it is because he experienced some disappointment in his youth," +answered the lad, "and has come to distrust all his species." +</p> + +<p> +"It may be so," returned the woman. "I have heard of such instances. He +is very kind to you, my boy, and but for his little bundles of sticks, I +think we must have perished during your long illness through that +piercing cold winter. Strange are the realities of life; stranger than +fiction! When the rich Mr. Pimble drove me from his threshold, the poor +hermit of the forest braved the bleak storms, and laid the charitable +piles on my poverty-stricken threshold." +</p> + +<p> +The mother and son had now reached their humble abode. +</p> + +<p> +"Willie," said she, "I wish you would run down by the river and gather +up the few pieces of linen I washed and spread out there yesterday. The +wind is rising fast, and they will blow away before morning." +</p> + +<p> +The boy hastened to perform her request, and in a few moments came +rushing into the house, and exclaimed: +</p> + +<p> +"Mother! mother! Major Howard's house is all on fire! I am going up +there," and, flinging the pieces he held in his arms on the table, he +flew off toward the burning mansion. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Danforth followed him to the door and discovered his words were but +too true. Long tongues of flame darted upward to the sky, and ran +fiercely over the walls and terraces of the mansion. The church bell was +pealing madly to rouse the slumbering people to the rescue; but the fire +gained so rapidly in the sweeping wind, all efforts to quench it could +not prove otherwise than futile. To save the lives of the inmates would +be the utmost which could be done, and even this seemed a perilous +undertaking. +</p> + +<p> +Willie Danforth was rushing up the avenue of cedars, when, just as he +was entering the grounds of the burning mansion, he stumbled over some +large object which obstructed the path. It moved beneath, and, by the +glare of the flames, he discovered the body of his friend, the hermit, +lying at full length upon the frozen ground. The prostrate man opened +his eyes and recognized Willie. +</p> + +<p> +"O, my good boy, I am sadly hurt!" said he, feebly. "Will you help me to +rise and get away from this place?" +</p> + +<p> +Willie, who forgot everything, even the burning mansion before him, in +care and pity for his friend, raised him to his feet, and half +supporting the tall, thin form in his young, strong arms, drew him down +the long avenue and along the river bank to his mother's dwelling. +</p> + +<p> +And that night the insensible form of the Hermit of the Cedars lay +stretched upon the low couch of Dilly Danforth's humble abode. +</p> + + + + +<p class="chapter"> +CHAPTER XLI. +</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>"There are so many signs of wickedness</p> +<p>Around me, that my soul is pressed with fear.</p> +<p>O, that the power divine would kindly aid</p> +<p>Me in my need, and save me from the wiles</p> +<p>And artful plottings of this wicked man!</p> +<p>For though he speaks so soft, and smiles so fair,</p> +<p>I've seen at times a strange look in his eye</p> +<p>Which doth convince me that his soul is black within."</p></div></div><br> + + +<p> +Col. Malcome flung wide the doors of his elegant mansion to receive the +suffering family who, in the space of a few short hours, had lost their +all of earthly wealth by the subtle element of fire. The invalided Mrs. +Howard was borne on a litter to an apartment so warm and complete in its +arrangements, as to almost wear the appearance of having been fitted up +expressly to receive her in her forlorn and unsheltered condition. +Large, richly-furnished rooms, all glowing bright in their luxurious +comforts, were also in readiness for Florence and her father. The latter +was nearly overwhelmed with grief and dismay at his sudden and +irremediable loss. Col. Malcome strove by every means in his power to +assuage and lighten his sorrows. +</p> + +<p> +"My house is your home as long as you choose to make it so, Major +Howard," said he one morning after the afflicted family had been several +weeks partakers of his generous hospitality. +</p> + +<p> +"I cannot consent to burden you with my family any longer than while I +can find some place to which I can remove them," answered he. "And then +I must engage in some kind of business to provide for their support. +This unfortunate accident has given my wife so dreadful a shock, I fear +she will not long survive it." +</p> + +<p> +A significant smile appeared for a moment on Col. Malcome's features at +these latter words, but he concealed it from the distressed man, and +replied, "It grieves me to hear you talk thus. Why should you regard +your family as burdensome guests beneath my roof, when we are soon to be +linked in the ties of relationship by the union of our children?" +</p> + +<p> +"True!" returned Major Howard. "Such a union has been proposed, but——" +</p> + +<p> +"But what?" asked Col. M. +</p> + +<p> +"You may not look as favorably on its consummation now as formerly." +</p> + +<p> +"Judge not so meanly of me, my friend!" said he, warmly. "Your +daughter's rich soul and personal charms are all the wealth I desire in +the lady who shall become the wife of my son." +</p> + +<p> +Major Howard was silent. +</p> + +<p> +"I do not wish to hasten this marriage," resumed the colonel, "because +you expressed a desire, several months ago, that it should be delayed +till a change occurred in your wife's situation (a strange emphasis on +the word <i>wife</i>); but were it consummated, your family could occupy +one-half of my mansion with no expense to me till Rufus should rebuild +the one you have recently lost by fire." +</p> + +<p> +Major Howard's face suddenly brightened. The colonel saw he had made a +hit, and followed up his advantage so adroitly that e'er the twain +parted, the father had consented that the marriage between his daughter +and the colonel's son should take place within four weeks. He sought his +daughter and communicated the intelligence. Florence received it in +silence. She felt they were without a home in the wide world, and at the +mercy of the man under whose roof they were sheltered. A strange horror +was seizing upon her soul and bowing her spirits to the earth. There +were many looks and glances around her she could not understand; but +they seemed possessed of some dark and hidden meaning. Hannah Doliver's +glee knew no bounds. She followed Rufus from morning till night, and +appeared uneasy if he was a moment beyond her sight. The young man +returned her fondness with hatred and contempt. Edith, with her pale, +wan face and sunken eyes, looked the mere shadow of her former self. +During her long illness, her beautiful head had been shorn of its ripply +wealth of auburn curls, and, as she lay languidly on the soft cushions +of her luxuriant couch, few would have recognized in that wasted form +the once radiant Edith Malcome. She had a feverishness and uncertainty +of temper common to long-confined invalids. Florence could find little +companionship in her society; besides, she was too weak to endure the +excitement of laughter and conversation. +</p> + +<p> +Rufus sought his affianced bride at every opportunity; and the only +place where she could rest secure from his interruptions was the +apartment of her mother, where he never ventured to intrude, being +possessed of a strange fear and dread of sick people. He never visited +Edith, unless compelled to do so by his father. +</p> + +<p> +Florence was one day sitting in the deep recess of one of the +drawing-room windows, with the massy folds of purple damask drooped +before her, occupied in the perusal of a book of poems, when a +succession of low, murmuring sounds near by, disturbed her, and +listening a moment she heard Col. Malcome say, in a smothered tone, +"There's no fear of detection; all moves on bravely, and we shall have a +blooming young bride here in a few weeks." +</p> + +<p> +Then there was a low, chuckling laugh, which Florence recognized as +Hannah Doliver's. After a while the woman spoke in a stifled voice, +"Don't you want to see <i>her</i>?" she said. "I should think you +would." There was a slight malice in her tone, which appeared to +irritate him somewhat. +</p> + +<p> +"I can wait very well till the ceremony is performed," he answered at +length. "Of course, she will appear at the marriage of her daughter." A +strange emphasis on the last word. +</p> + +<p> +"But come," he added directly, "we must not linger here. Some of the +family may observe us." +</p> + +<p> +Thus speaking, they passed out of the apartment, relieving Florence of +the fear with which she had been shaking during their whole conversation +lest they should discover her retreat in the window. +</p> + +<p> +When they were gone, she clasped her hands, and exclaimed in a low, but +fervent tone, "Will no arm save me from the power into which I have +fallen?" +</p> + +<p> +For several days she sought an opportunity to speak privately with her +father, but his attention was so incessantly occupied by Col. Malcome, +that none presented. +</p> + +<p> +When at last she gained his ear, he laughed her suspicions to scorn, and +bade her never come to him with such an idle tale again. +</p> + +<p> +The good-natured major was infatuated by, what he termed, the munificent +magnanimity of Col. Malcome, and, moreover, had been nurtured in +luxurious tastes, and the prospect of reïnstating himself in an elegant +home by so easy a process as the marriage of his daughter, was too +desirable to be allowed to vanish lightly away. +</p> + + + + +<p class="chapter"> +CHAPTER XLII. +</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>"And they dare blame her! they whose every thought</p> +<p>Look, utterance, act, hath more of evil in 't</p> +<p>Than e'er she dreamed of or could understand,</p> +<p>And she must blush before them, with a heart</p> +<p>Whose lightest throb is worth their all of life!"</p></div></div><br> + + +<p> +In a neat, but scantily furnished apartment of a small, white cottage +sat Louise Edson beside the low window which looked forth on a great +frowning building with grated bars and ponderous iron doors. +</p> + +<p> +"Is this a prison across the yard, aunt?" she asked of a tall, solemn +woman, in a black head-dress, who had just entered the room, and stood +laying some fresh fuel on the fire. +</p> + +<p> +"It is the county jail," replied she. +</p> + +<p> +"How it makes me shudder to look at it!" said Louise, turning from the +window, and assuming a chair near her aunt, who was taking a quantity of +sewing from a work-basket. +</p> + +<p> +"It reminds me of a lady who was my near neighbor in Wimbledon, and who +has been my sole companion for several months, to see you constantly +occupied with your needle," remarked Louise, looking on her aunt as she +assorted her cotton and arranged her work. +</p> + +<p> +"What is the lady's name, of whom you speak?" inquired the woman. +</p> + +<p> +"Mrs. Stanhope," answered Louise; "she is a kind soul. It pains me to +think I shall never see her again." +</p> + +<p> +"Do you not intend to return to your late home?" inquired the aunt, +somewhat surprised at the words of her niece. +</p> + +<p> +"Never!" returned Louise, with strong emphasis, "I could not endure it." +</p> + +<p> +"Pshaw! you will get over this weakness in a little while," said her +aunt. "You have half-conquered it by coming away, and you will complete +the victory by returning." +</p> + +<p> +"I tell you no," said Louise, somewhat angered by her aunt's +persistence. "I have already written to Mr. Richard Giblet, one of the +former firm of Edson & Co., to settle my affairs in Wimbledon, dispose +of my late residence, and remit the proceeds to me in drafts." +</p> + +<p> +The aunt looked astonished at this piece of intelligence, and said, "You +have been rash and premature, my child, and I fear will regret your +hasty proceedings." +</p> + +<p> +"If you knew how much it relieved me to get out of that place, aunt, you +would not fear I should ever wish to return. I was so near my enslaver +there, and my heart said all the time, 'O, I <i>must</i> see him!' while +conscience whispered sternly, 'You <i>dare</i> not do it.' There was a +constant war 'twixt love and reason, which threatened the extermination +of the latter." +</p> + +<p> +"I am glad you have been ruled by your better judgment," said her aunt; +"passion always leads us astray when we listen to its voice." +</p> + +<p> +"That is very true," answered Louise; "but O that I had known it only by +precept, and not by experience!" +</p> + +<p> +"Experience is called the best teacher," remarked the aunt. +</p> + +<p> +"It is the most bitter one," returned Louise. "How I wish you had been +with me through the few brief years of my married life! With your kind +care and admonitions I think I would never have strayed darkly into sin +and error." +</p> + +<p> +"We all err sometimes in our lives," said her aunt; "and I cannot +discover as you have wandered so far from the paths of rectitude that +your return to them should seem a thing impossible." +</p> + +<p> +"But did I not tell you how I deceived my husband?" asked Louise, +looking wofully in the face of her aunt. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," returned she, calmly. "Did he never deceive you?" +</p> + +<p> +Louise paused a few moments, and answered, "I <i>was</i> deceived when I +married him, but it was by my own blindness. However, the deception did +not last long," she added, with a spice of her old spirit. +</p> + +<p> +"And when it passed away," said her aunt. +</p> + +<p> +"Don't recall those terrible hours to my mind," interrupted Louise, +quickly, "lest I should forget the double share of respect I owe the +dead in that I failed to give them their due on earth." +</p> + +<p> +"I would not have the dead wronged," returned her aunt; "but I would +have the living righted. You used to be free and unrestrained in your +intercourse with me in the glad days of childhood and youth. I often +feared some envious sorrow would overtake you to chill and despoil that +buoyant exuberance of life and gayety. You were too wildly rich in heart +and soul. You wasted more love on a pet rabbit than would eke out the +whole passion life of a score of poorer natures. O, Louise, I trembled +when you stood before the altar and took the vows of faithfulness to Mr. +Leroy Edson. I knew you fancied that you loved him, and thought in the +wild potency of your passion to bear him skyward on your soaring +pinions; but, ah! I saw how sadly his clogging weight would drag you to +the earth." +</p> + +<p> +She paused, and Louise was silent, but her face showed traces of tears. +</p> + +<p> +"Do not think me severe," resumed her aunt; "I am only just. Now tell me +with your old-time confidence, why did you love another man while your +husband lived?" +</p> + +<p> +"It was because,"—— Louise hesitated, and then added, "because I was +wicked." +</p> + +<p> +"And for what other reason?" pursued her aunt. +</p> + +<p> +"And because I was tired," Louise went on in a dreamy tone, as if +thinking aloud to herself, "and because I was hungry." +</p> + +<p> +"Your expressions begin to assume the old, quaint, humorous form," said +the aunt smiling. "I suppose you mean your soul was tired for want of +something on which to rest, and hungry for want of its proper +nourishment." +</p> + +<p> +"That's what I mean, aunt; but then I do not seek excuse for the crime +of stealing to appease the cravings of my hunger." +</p> + +<p> +"A famishing man has never yet been hung for stealing to sustain life." +</p> + +<p> +"You draw a strong comparison, aunt," said Louise, laughing in spite of +herself. +</p> + +<p> +"To meet a strong case," returned she. "It is a duty I owe you to use my +best efforts to destroy this morbid melancholy which is preying on your +spirits. I know nothing of the man you have loved. He may or may not be +worthy of your affections. It is not his cause I plead. But I would +divest you of the false glasses through which your sensitive brain, +wrought on by high excitement, and shocked by a sudden calamity, has +come to regard the events of your past life, and let you behold them +again with your own natural sight. If I can effect this, I confidently +trust to your good reasoning powers to set all right again." +</p> + +<p> +Louise remained silent after her aunt ceased speaking, but her +countenance evinced far more energy and hopefulness than at the +commencement of the conversation. At length she rose and said, "Well, +aunt, I think I have as much logic as my weak brain can digest in one +night, so I'll retire to my bed-room, if you please." +</p> + +<p> +In a few weeks, young Mrs. Edson, under the tuition of her +strong-minded, sensible aunt, regained a share of her former vivacity, +and declared she would be quite herself again were it not for that great +black jail in the adjoining yard, which frowned on her every morning and +loomed dismally in her dreams. +</p> + + + + +<p class="chapter"> +CHAPTER XLIII. +</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i16">"Ah, why</p> +<p>Do you still keep apart, and walk alone,</p> +<p>And let such strong emotions stamp your brow,</p> +<p>As not betraying their full import, yet</p> +<p>Disclose too much!</p> +<p class="i10">Disclose too much!—of what?</p> +<p>What is there to disclose?</p> +<p class="i14">A heart so ill at ease."</p></div></div><br> + + +<p> +The preparations for the nuptials of Florence Howard with Rufus Malcome +were rapidly progressing. +</p> + +<p> +The services of Dilly Danforth were put in active requisition. Day after +day her tall, thin form was seen moving to and fro the great mansion, +washing windows, polishing grates, and brightening the silver knobs and +plates of the mahogany doors. Col. Malcome, in his delight at the +approaching marriage of his son, resolved to give a large fête on the +occasion, and no pains were spared to render it the most costly and +sumptuous affair ever presented to the gaze of the people of Wimbledon. +The greatest expense was lavished upon the wedding-banquet, and the +young bride's trousseau might have vied in magnificence and profusion +with that of a royal princess. +</p> + +<p> +All this display and grandeur was revolting to Florence. It humbled and +mortified her proud, independent nature to owe the expensive decoration +of her approaching bridal to the generosity of the man she was about to +marry. +</p> + +<p> +Col. Malcome appeared in the most fitful spirits as the preparations +advanced toward their completion. He paced the piazzas for hours +together, with hurried, excited steps, pausing often and muttering +indistinctly to himself. +</p> + +<p> +Sometimes he stood before a window in a dejected attitude, and gazed +mournfully over the intervening gardens and cottages toward the elegant +and stately mansion lately occupied by the Edsons, which stood on a +small elevation just across the river, in the midst of beautiful +grounds. Then, as he turned suddenly away, his countenance would change +from its expression of gloomy regret to one of fierceness and angry +revenge. +</p> + +<p> +At length the night, whose morrow was to witness the long-expected +ceremony, drew on. Great torrents of rain were flooding the streets and +dashing dismally against the casements of the mansion which was, ere +long, to blaze in the light of the festive scene. +</p> + +<p> +Still, Col. Malcome, unheeding the storm, walked the wet marbles of the +piazzas, with arms folded over his chest and head bowed, in a state of +absent, moody absorption. At length the hall-door opened, and Rufus +advanced to his father's side. +</p> + +<p> +"What do you want with me?" said the colonel, turning quickly toward +him. +</p> + +<p> +"Not much," returned the son. "I heard you walking here, and thought I +would join you, as there was no one in the house to keep me company." +</p> + +<p> +"Where is Major Howard?" +</p> + +<p> +"With his wife," answered Rufus. +</p> + +<p> +"And Hannah?" continued the colonel. +</p> + +<p> +"Don't mention that detestable creature!" said the young man angrily. "I +can't abide her. So she is out of my sight, I care not where she is." +</p> + +<p> +"Why do you hate the woman so?" asked Col. M. "She seems very fond of +you." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes! I cannot move but what she follows me. It is strange Major Howard +retains such a bold, impudent slut in his service." +</p> + +<p> +The colonel coughed slightly and remained silent. +</p> + +<p> +At length Rufus spoke again hesitatingly, "Father!" said he. +</p> + +<p> +"Well!" returned Col. M., in a tone which indicated for him to proceed. +</p> + +<p> +"I don't want to marry Florence Howard," said the young man, with a +great gulp, as though it cost him a mighty effort to pronounce the +words. +</p> + +<p> +"Why not?" asked the father, apparently unheeding his son's emotion. +"Don't you love the girl?" +</p> + +<p> +"Love her!" repeated Rufus. "I don't know whether I do or not; but I am +afraid of her." +</p> + +<p> +"Afraid of a little, puny girl!" exclaimed Col. Malcome, in a towering +rage, "I did not think you such a pitiful craven." +</p> + +<p> +The young man seemed angered by his father's words, but made no retort. +</p> + +<p> +"Why are you afraid of her?" inquired the colonel after a while. +</p> + +<p> +"Because she looks so proud and stern upon me, and treats me with such +scorn and contempt." +</p> + +<p> +"O, never mind that!" said his father. "When she is once your wife trust +me to lower her loftiness, and make her as meek and humble as you could +wish. Let us go in now. How wildly this storm is driving! I hope it may +clear before the hour for the marriage arrives." Thus speaking, the +father and son entered the hall and sought their respective apartments. +</p> + +<p> +While this scene was passing on the piazza, Florence sat in her room +with her journal open on the table before her. +</p> + +<p> +"The last evening of my free, unfettered existence has drawn on," she +wrote. "How wildly shrieks the wind, driving great torrents of rain +against my curtained casements! It is fit a night like this should usher +in my day of doom. Father seems delighted with the approaching festival, +and mother has lost the dread she formerly evinced, which I now think +was occasioned by the fear of losing me from her side. Hannah is almost +wild with glee. She follows the steps of Rufus closely as his shadow. He +hates her, and in this one point our feelings sympathize, but in no +other. It is impossible to describe the loathing and abhorrence with +which I regard the man who in a few more hours will be my husband. O, +heavens! will no power save me from a fate so dreadful as a lifetime +passed with him? Alas, no! Our beautiful home is gone, and we are poor, +and had been shelterless but for these walls, which opened their doors +to take us in. And can I make so poor a return for this friendly +generosity, or so ungratefully scorn and reject the means presented to +reïnstate my father in wealth and magnificence, as to refuse to perform +the act which will repay the kindness and restore to him the elegant +home whose loss he so deeply deplores? O, no! I must not be so selfish +and ungrateful. Still, it seems a great sacrifice even to insure a +father's ease and happiness. I have an increasing dread and horror of +this Col. Malcome, which I cannot overcome, despite all his apparent +generosity and sympathy in our misfortune, and lavish display of +profusion and splendor with which he surrounds this approaching bridal. +It seems to me all this munificence goes to serve some fell purpose of +his own. His strange power over my easy-natured father excites dark +apprehensions in my bosom. But why torture myself with imagined ills, +when the dread realities are sufficient to unnerve my soul! Now, amid +this piteous wailing of storm and wind, I write the last words on these +dear old leaves as Florence Howard, and betake me to my pillow,—but O, +not to sleep! The bride of to-morrow will make a sorry figure in her +silks and jewels." +</p> + + + + +<p class="chapter"> +CHAPTER XLIV. +</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2">"As Heaven is my spirit's trust,</p> +<p class="i4">So may its gracious power</p> +<p class="i2">Be near to aid and strengthen me</p> +<p class="i4">When comes the trial hour."</p></div></div><br> + + +<p> +The hour drew on; the guests assembled, and the minister waited the +entrance of the bridal party to perform the solemn ceremony. +</p> + +<p> +The storm drove wildly without the mansion, in strange contrast with the +glowing warmth and luxuriance of the apartments within. +</p> + +<p> +Col. Malcome sat on a velvet sofa, in graceful attire, supporting the +wasted form of his daughter; who, thin, pale, and white as the garb she +wore, leaned her head, all shorn of its beautiful curls, heavily against +his shoulder. It was a sad sight to behold that feeble, emaciated figure +rising from a bed of disease and pain, to mingle among the festive +groups which filled those splendid drawing-rooms. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly there was a stir in the hall, and the bridal group entered. +Florence, with the tips of her gloved fingers just touching the arm of +the man who was in a few moments to become her husband, moved gracefully +to the seat assigned her. She was magnificently arrayed in rose-colored +satin, with an over-skirt of elegantly-wrought Parisian lace, and a +spray of pearls and diamonds flashed their brilliant rays through the +luxuriant dark curls that clustered round her pale, sweet brow, and fell +in rich profusion over her white, uncovered shoulders. +</p> + +<p> +Rufus was arrayed in a glossy garb of the finest black broadcloth, with +a spotless vest of pearl-tinted satin, and immaculate white kids. His +dark visage, small, peering black eyes, and low-bred, clownish aspect, +contrasted strangely with the brilliant creature at his side. +</p> + +<p> +The maids and groomsmen were in splendid attire, and looked proud and +delighted with the notice their position attracted from the assembled +groups. +</p> + +<p> +Then came Major Howard, with a beaming countenance; his invalid lady, +who had summoned all her strength and fortitude to be present on the +occasion, leaning on his arm. +</p> + +<p> +Col. Malcome rose politely and gave her a seat on the sofa beside his +daughter, assuming himself a chair on the opposite side of the room. +</p> + +<p> +Hannah Doliver, in a very elaborate dress of gay plaided silk, her jet +black hair twisted into wiry ringlets, sat before her mistress, holding +a fan and silver vial, to serve the invalid's need, should the unusual +excitement produce a sudden nervous attack. +</p> + +<p> +A significant glance was exchanged between Major Howard and Col. +Malcome, when the latter arose, and, bowing to the clergyman who was to +officiate on the occasion, said: "All is in readiness to proceed with +the ceremony." +</p> + +<p> +The man of God came slowly forward, with a grave and solemn aspect. As +he was about to request the bridal group to rise, a stamping of heavy +feet on the piazza outside the windows arrested his words; and directly +the hall door was flung open with furious vehemence, and a party, +consisting of four tall, brawny men, in dripping hats and overcoats, +rushed into the apartment, leaving the door wide open behind them, with +the storm rushing in upon the assembly in its wildest fury. +</p> + +<p> +Col. Malcome sprang to his feet, his face glowing with anger at this +most untimely and insulting intrusion. +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Arrest that man!</i>" exclaimed the foremost of the strangers, +pointing his arm toward the form of the colonel, who stood glowering +upon the speaker with wrathful aspect. +</p> + +<p> +"For what?" said Major Howard, leaping from his seat, as two strong men +rushed forward to execute the command. +</p> + +<p> +"For destroying your buildings by fire, on the night of the twelfth of +January last," said the man who had ordered the arrest, whom the major +now recognized as the sheriff of the county. +</p> + +<p> +"Prove your words! prove your words!" exclaimed Col. Malcome, darting +back from the grasp of the men who approached to imprison him. +</p> + +<p> +"I am prepared to do so," returned the sheriff, motioning a tall, lank +form, in a long overcoat and broad-brimmed hat, which stood near the +door, to advance. +</p> + +<p> +"You were in the grounds adjoining Major Howard's mansion on the night +of the twelfth of January last," said he, addressing the +singular-looking man, whose features were so entirely hidden by his +collar and hat-brim, as to be indiscernible. +</p> + +<p> +The figure bowed low in token of assent. +</p> + +<p> +"What did you see there?" +</p> + +<p> +The <i>Hermit of the Cedars</i> hesitated a moment, as if to collect his +thoughts, while the gaze of every person in the room was riveted upon +him, and a breathless silence reigned as he commenced to speak in a low, +measured tone of assurance and courage. +</p> + +<p> +"I saw a man in dark clothes standing on the piazza of the doomed +mansion. A figure in female garb appeared from within, and, after a +brief, whispered conversation, left a small basket in his hand, and +retired whence she had come. Then the man, after glancing cautiously +around him, descended the steps and proceeded to light the fires. In +three different places the devouring element was kindled, and, as he +stooped to blow the light fragments with his breath, the flames suddenly +leaped forth and revealed in startling distinctness the face and +features of the incendiary. His hat had fallen to the ground and left +his head exposed, which was covered with a profusion of light, auburn +hair, clustering in short, thick curls around a high, pale forehead." +</p> + +<p> +Major Howard sprang from his seat. +</p> + +<p> +"Sir!" said he, darting an enraged glance on the strange man, "are you a +fool? Do you not see the hair of the man you would accuse is black as +midnight, while you affirm that of the one who fired my mansion to have +been of a flaxen hue?" +</p> + +<p> +The hermit seemed not in the least disconcerted by this speech. Raising +the long cane on which his arms had been resting, he lifted the black +cloud of curls from the head of Col. Malcome and dashed it upon the +floor. +</p> + +<p> +"Herbert Mervale!" shrieked the invalided Mrs. Howard. +</p> + +<p> +On hearing this voice the muffled man, who had thrown off his +broad-brimmed hat, turned suddenly round. +</p> + +<p> +"And Ralph Greyson!" she added. +</p> + +<p> +Then throwing her arms around the wasted form of Edith Malcome, she +exclaimed: "My daughter! my daughter! is it thus I find you?" and sank +insensible on the sofa beside her. +</p> + +<p> +Hannah Doliver sprang toward Rufus, covering him with kisses and calling +him her "dear, dear son." +</p> + +<p> +The young man threw her roughly to the floor, and, alarmed by the sudden +scene of tumult and confusion, rushed into the street. +</p> + +<p> +Florence clung close to the side of her father, who seemed struck dumb +with horror and amaze. +</p> + +<p> +At length the sheriff approached him. "Do you wish further proofs +against the man we accuse?" he demanded. +</p> + +<p> +"Take the villain away!" roared Major Howard, bursting suddenly into a +terrific ebullition of anger, "and burn him at the stake. Hanging is too +easy death for such a monster of wickedness!" +</p> + +<p> +The assembly, terrified by the angry, tumultuous scene, began to +disperse. +</p> + +<p> +"Pause for a brief moment, my friends," said the major, growing somewhat +calmer; "I have a few words of explanation 'tis meet you should hear. +That man," pointing to Col. Malcome, who stood in the strong grasp of +his keepers, glaring around him with the ferocity of a baffled tiger, +"is the wretch who married my sister to steal her fortune, and leave her +in poverty and distress with a young babe at her breast, to debauch +himself with her serving-woman, by whom he had also a child. There lies +the woman he has wronged," said he, his face growing fiercer, as he +pointed to the form of the supposed Mrs. Howard, cast lifelessly on the +sofa beside Edith Malcome, "at the feet of her daughter, and there +stands the vile creature," pointing a wrathful finger toward Hannah +Doliver, "who was his leman. But her bastard boy has fled the embrace of +his polluted mother. My sister returned to me, after suffering inhuman +barbarities from this monster, but he withheld her child. Her heart was +broken by misfortune, and her only wish was to pass the remainder of her +life in quiet and seclusion. My wife died when this dear girl was an +infant," said he, taking the hand of Florence in his, who stood with her +eyes fixed immovably on her father's face; "and I besought my sister to +stand in the place of a mother to my little daughter." +</p> + +<p> +Florence directed a quick, troubled glance toward the form which still +lay motionless on the sofa beside Edith, but did not move. +</p> + +<p> +"I have no more to say," resumed the major more calmly; "the artful +wickedness which has threatened my ruin is exposed. Officers of justice, +do your duty! Take Herbert Mervale from my presence!" +</p> + +<p> +The strong men grasped the form of the prisoner and marched him from the +room. The baffled villain made no resistance. He closed his eyes to +avoid beholding the loathing, abhorrent glances which were showered on +him from all sides. +</p> + +<p> +As the hermit was slowly following the receding group, Major Howard +stepped to his side, and, laying his hand lightly on his arm, said: +</p> + +<p> +"Will you not remain till the guests have retired?" +</p> + +<p> +"No," answered the recluse, shaking his head sadly, "I have done my duty +and had better depart." +</p> + +<p> +"You have saved me from destruction," said Major Howard, in a tone +trembling with grateful emotion, as he seized the thin, emaciated hand +of the hermit, and pressed it warmly to his bosom; "how shall I reward +you?" +</p> + +<p> +"I seek no reward from your generosity," returned the solitary, escaping +from the grasp which detained him; "the consciousness of having done +right is sufficient recompense." +</p> + +<p> +Thus speaking, he turned away. Major Howard returned to the parlors. The +guests were departing, and the several members of the family had +disappeared. +</p> + +<p> +He hurried to the apartment occupied by his sister, and there beheld her +and Edith lying side by side, apparently in tranquil sleep, with +Florence and Sylva, Edith's maid, watching at the bed-side. +</p> + +<p> +Hannah Doliver was nowhere to be seen. +</p> + +<p> +Florence advanced to meet her father, and, twining her arm +affectionately round his neck, turned a tender glance on the pale faces +of the sleepers, and said: +</p> + +<p> +"O, father! father! let us kneel by this low couch and thank God for +this merciful deliverance!" +</p> + + + + +<p class="chapter"> +CHAPTER XLV. +</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2">—————————"All this is well;</p> +<p>For this will pass away, and be succeeded</p> +<p>By an auspicious hope, which shall look up</p> +<p>With calm assurance to that blessed place</p> +<p>Which all who seek may win, whatever be</p> +<p>Their earthly errors, so they be atoned;</p> +<p>And the commencement of atonement is</p> +<p>The sense of its necessity."</p></div></div><br> + + +<p> +Baby No. 2, had appeared at the home of Mrs. Salsify Mumbles, and the +delighted grandmother held the tiny little creature this way and that +way, gazing on its features with the most doting fondness, and nearly +smothering it with affectionate kisses. +</p> + +<p> +And baby No. 2 did not squeal like its lusty-lunged predecessor. O, no! +it had the softest little feminine quackle, for all the world like a +downy young gosling; and Mrs. Salsify said she would have it called +Goslina, it quackled so sweetly. So Goslina Shaw was the euphonious +sobriquet of baby No. 2, and the joyful grandame returned it to the bed +beside the pale face of its mother, where 'twas quackling off to sleep, +when Mr. Salsify came in from the store, his features glowing, as if he +had some startling intelligence to convey. +</p> + +<p> +"My sakes! what is it, Mr. Mumbles?" asked the fond wife quickly marking +her husband's excited manner. +</p> + +<p> +"I guess folks will have something to talk about besides my getting +gagged at the Woman's Convention," said Mr. Salsify, rather maliciously, +drawing a chair before the grate and placing his feet on the fender. +</p> + +<p> +"Why, what has happened?" inquired his wife, eagerly. +</p> + +<p> +"Enough has happened," returned he, "if all Martha Pinkerton has just +been telling me is true." +</p> + +<p> +"Where did you see her?" asked Mrs. Salsify. +</p> + +<p> +"She came into the store to-night to buy a chunk of cheese; so I asked +her what was the news? when she told me of the awfulest tragedy that +occurred at Col. Malcome's the night they undertook to get Florence +Howard married to the colonel's son." +</p> + +<p> +"O, mercy, who was killed?" exclaimed Mrs. S., with uplifted hands. +</p> + +<p> +"Nobody as I know of," returned Mr. Mumbles, whose ideas of a tragedy +were different from those of his good wife; "but then the whole company +might have been, for they had a murderer amongst them." +</p> + +<p> +"Mercy to me, how awful!" said Mrs. Salsify. "What was his name and how +did he get there?" +</p> + +<p> +"His name was Col. Malcome, and he got there by his own wickedness." +</p> + +<p> +"You don't mean to tell me that handsome Col. Malcome is a murderer!" +exclaimed Mrs. Salsify, with terror depicted on her features. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes I do, and worse than that; he burned Major Howard's house, and +tried to get his pretty daughter married to her own brother." +</p> + +<p> +"How can Rufus Malcome be a brother to Florence Howard?" asked Mrs. +Mumbles, in amaze. "You are talking nonsense to me, I fear." +</p> + +<p> +"O, no," returned her husband. "I tell you this Colonel Malcome has +turned out the strangest. He is Major Howard's mother, and Dilly +Danforth's aunt, and that old hermit's sister, and the Lord knows who +and what else; but they have carried him off to jail, so there'll be no +chance for him to burn any more houses." +</p> + +<p> +Here Mr. Mumbles drew a long breath and rested a while. +</p> + +<p> +"I am glad I didn't marry him," said a feeble voice from the bed. +</p> + +<p> +"So am I, my daughter," said the father quickly; "and you may thank me +for having saved you from a fate so deplorable. Your mother was mightily +taken with this colonel when he came fawning round us, and she was +pretty cross when I told her it would not do to let him marry you. I +knew that great black head was full of wickedness, and so it has +proved." +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Salsify sat rather uneasily while her husband vaunted his superior +knowledge of human nature, but the gentle Goslina began to quackle from +the bed, and she soon forgot all else in care for the dear little +creature. +</p> + +<p> +While this conversation was passing at the home of the Mumbles, the +Hermit of the Cedars sat before the glowing fire which brightened the +rough walls of Dilly Danforth's humble abode. He had acknowledged +himself as her long-absent brother, and great was her joy at beholding +him again, though she grieved to know how one deep sorrow had blasted +his early promise and made him a wretched, solitary recluse. +</p> + +<p> +"I fear," said she, at length, "you must still feel bitterly toward me +for the low connection I was so unfortunate as to form, which biased the +mind of your fair lady's brother against your suit." +</p> + +<p> +"No, my sister," returned the hermit, in a tone of tender sadness; "I +deeply regret the harshness and wrong I visited upon you in the wild +fury of that early disappointment, for I have learned no act of yours +influenced Major Howard against my suit. It was the wily artfulness of +my rival, who breathed specious tales of my unworthiness in the ear of +the brother, and caused her, the fair, unsuspecting girl, to turn from +me and give her hand to Mervale." +</p> + +<p> +The hermit's voice trembled as he pronounced these latter words, and he +bowed his head in silence. The sister pitied the sorrow which she knew +not how to soothe. +</p> + +<p> +At length Willie entered, his face all bright with smiles. +</p> + +<p> +"What makes you look so glad?" asked his mother, gazing with fond +admiration on the tall, handsome boy; for she still regarded him as a +child, though he was nearly grown to man's estate. +</p> + +<p> +"I have got something for Uncle Ralph," said he, looking cunningly in +the hermit's face. +</p> + +<p> +"What is it, William?" inquired he, with a solemn smile. +</p> + +<p> +The youth drew a letter from his pocket and placed it in his uncle's +hand. +</p> + +<p> +"It is from Edgar," said he, eagerly breaking the seal. +</p> + +<p> +All were silent while he was occupied in the perusal. +</p> + +<p> +"Edgar has received the disclosures in regard to the pretended Col. +Malcome with unaffected astonishment," remarked the hermit, as he +refolded the letter and placed it in his bosom. "He appears delighted to +learn that Willie Danforth, of whom he has heard me speak so +regardfully, is his cousin, and sends much love to him and also to his +new-found aunt." +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Danforth looked gratified at these words, as did also Willie. +</p> + +<p> +"I am sure I want to see him very much," said the latter. "When is he +coming home, uncle?" +</p> + +<p> +"In summer, when the woods are green, he says," returned the hermit; "he +is now taking sketches in the vicinity of Richmond, Va." +</p> + +<p> +"Was his father an artist?" asked Mrs. D. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," answered the recluse. "I well remember where sister Fanny first +met him, and how quick a wild, deep love grew out of the romantic +adventure. It was a few months after we left this country—I to forget +in travel my cankering sorrows, she to companion my wanderings. How it +affects me now to think that we left you in suffering poverty without +even a kind good-by! Our shares in the estate of our deceased parents +furnished us with funds for travel, while yours had been squandered by a +dissolute man. But we should have given you of ours to alleviate your +wants and distresses. Fanny often told me so; but my worst passions were +roused by the misfortune I conceived you had helped to bring upon me, +and I would not hear her pleadings in your behalf. What a hard-hearted +wretch I have been!" +</p> + +<p> +The hermit paused and covered his face. +</p> + +<p> +Willie looked from his uncle to his mother, and at length approached +him. "Do not fall into one of your gloomy reveries," said he; "tell us +more of Edgar's mother." +</p> + +<p> +"Ay, yes," said the hermit, rousing himself; "I was speaking of her +first meeting with her future husband. It was among the ruins of the +Eternal City. She had wandered forth by herself one day, and, +intoxicated by the scenes that met her eye on every hand, roamed so far +that when the shades of night began to fall, she discovered herself in +the midst of gloomy, crumbling walls and tottering columns, without +knowing whither to direct her steps. While she stood indeterminate, a +gentleman approached, and kindly inquired if she had lost her way. She +answered in the affirmative, and he offered to escort her home. I +remember how glowing bright was her face that night, as she came +bounding up the steps of our habitation, and presented the 'young artist +she had found beneath the walls of Rome,' as she termed her companion, +and laughingly recounted her adventure. I believe our family are +predisposed to strong feelings, for I never witnessed a love more +engrossing than was hers for the young Lindenwood; nor was his devotion +to her less remarkable. They were married, and I left them to pursue my +wanderings alone. +</p> + +<p> +"When, after a lapse of several years, I returned, it was to stand over +their death-beds, and receive their boy under my protection. His father +was rich, and a large fortune was left to his only child. A few more +years I roamed, and then with the young Edgar sought my native shores. +</p> + +<p> +"You know the rest. It is a long yarn I have spun you," said he, rising, +"and I marvel you are not both asleep." +</p> + +<p> +"Are you going back to the forest to-night?" asked Mrs. Danforth, as he +wrapped the long coat about his thin form, and placed the broad-brimmed +hat over his gray locks. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, Delia," answered he. "I sleep best with the roar of the cedars in +my ears." +</p> + +<p> +"I will go with you," said Willie, springing for his cap. +</p> + +<p> +The twain set forth together, while the lonely woman sought her couch +and thought mournfully of long-past days and years. +</p> + + + + +<p class="chapter"> +CHAPTER XLVI. +</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>"She is a bustling, stalwart dame, and one</p> +<p>That well might fright a timid, modest man.</p> +<p>Look how she swings her arms, and treads the floor</p> +<p>With direful strides!"</p></div></div><br> + + +<p> +It was a bright, sunny spring morning, and Wimbledon was beautiful in +budding foliage, singing blue-birds and placid little river, with the +sunbeams silvering its ripply surface. +</p> + +<p> +The windows of Mr. Pimble's kitchen were raised and therein Peggy Nonce +moved vigorously to and fro, with rolled-up sleeves and glowing face, +stirring a great fire which roared and crackled in the jaws of a huge +oven, and then back to the pantry, where she wielded the sceptre of an +immense rolling-pin triumphantly over whole trays of revolting +pie-crust, marched forth long files of submissive pies, and lodged them +in the red-hot prison. +</p> + +<p> +While the stalwart house-keeper was thus occupied, Mr. Pimble, with a +yellow silk handkerchief tied over his straggling locks, and his pale, +palm-figured wrapper drawn closely around him, scraped the stubbed claw +of a worn-out corn broom over the kitchen floor, clapping his heelless +slippers after him as he moved slowly along. Peggy never heeded him at +all, but rushed to and fro, as if there had been no presence in the +kitchen save her own, often dragging the dirt away, on her trailing +skirts, just as the indefatigable sweeper had collected it in a pile. +</p> + +<p> +All at once, pert little Susey Pimble opened the parlor door and +swinging herself outward, said, "I want the dining-room castors and +tea-cups, and mamma says I am to have them and you are to come and give +them to me." +</p> + +<p> +The father rested his arms on the broom handle, and turning his face +toward his hopeful daughter, who was a "scion of the old stock," said, +"I will come soon as I have swept the floor." +</p> + +<p> +"I cannot wait," returned Susey, sharply, "I must have them this +moment." +</p> + +<p> +The father laid down his broom passively, and saying, "What an impatient +little miss you are!" clappered off to the dining-room, and brought +forth the desired articles on a waiter. +</p> + +<p> +Miss Susey, all atilt with delight, danced forward and caught it from +her father's hands; but its weight proved too much for her little arms, +and down it went to the floor with a fearful crash! Susey sprang back +with a frightened aspect at the mischief she had done, and Peggy Nonce, +dropping her rolling-pin, rushed out of the pantry and beheld the +fragments of broken china scattered over the floor. Her face crimsoned +with anger. +</p> + +<p> +"What a destructive little minx!" she exclaimed, glaring on the +offending Susey. "How dared you meddle with those dishes?" +</p> + +<p> +"Mamma said I might have them to play house with," answered Susey, with +flashing eyes. +</p> + +<p> +"Who ever heard of such a thing as giving a child a china tea set to +play with?" said Peggy, holding up her bare, brawny arms in amazement. +</p> + +<p> +"My mother has heard of such a thing; and she knows more than fifteen +women like you, old aunt Peggy Nonce," returned Miss Susey, with the air +of a tragedy queen. +</p> + +<p> +The unusual sounds aroused Mrs. Pimble, who appeared at the parlor door +with a goose-quill behind her ear, and a written scroll in her hand. +When her eyes fell on the spectacle in the centre of the kitchen, she +stamped violently, and exclaimed, in a tempestuous tone, "What does this +mean?" Mr. Pimble slunk away into a corner, while Peggy pursed up her +lips with a defiant expression, and Susey grew suddenly very meek and +blushing-faced. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Pimble's eyes followed her husband. "You crawling, contemptible +thing," she exclaimed, "have you grown so stupid and insensate that you +cannot comprehend a simple question? Again I demand of you, what does +this mean?" and she pointed her finger sternly to the broken fragments +which strewed the floor. +</p> + +<p> +"Susey said you told her she might have the castors and tea things, and +that I was to give them to her," said Mr. Pimble, without lifting his +eyes from the hearth he was contemplating. +</p> + +<p> +"Very well, I did tell Susey she might have the articles mentioned to +amuse herself with, and it was fitting she should have them, or I had +not given my consent. But why do I find them dashed to the floor and +rendered useless? Answer me that, you slip-shod sloven?" +</p> + +<p> +With an awful air, Mrs. Pimble folded her arms and looked down upon her +husband, who cringed away before her ireful presence, and said, "Susey +dropped the waiter." +</p> + +<p> +"Dropped the waiter!" repeated Mrs. Pimble, her anger freshening to a +gale. "And could you not prevent her from dropping it? or had you no +more sense than to load an avalanche of china on the arms of a little +child?" +</p> + +<p> +"She took the waiter from me," said Pimble, in a dogged tone, his eyes +still studying the tiles in the hearth. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Pimble darted upon him one glance of the most withering contempt, +and taking Susey by the hand led her from the room, without deigning to +utter another word. +</p> + +<p> +Soon as she disappeared Peggy set about clearing up the broken crockery, +and Mr. Pimble crawled off into the recess of a window where the sun +might shine on his shivering frame, and at length fell asleep. He had +hardly concluded his first dream of fragmentary tea-cups, ere a violent +pulling at his draggling coat-tails, which hung over the sill, caused +him to wake with a start, when he beheld Peggy Nonce at his side, +saying, "Dilly Danforth was come to see him." With a hopeless yawn he +crawled out of his sunny nook, and, turning his dull, sleepy eyes toward +the disturber of his quiet, demanded, in a surly tone, "what she wanted +with him." +</p> + +<p> +"I have come to pay my quarter's rent," said Mrs. Danforth, placing a +bank note in his grimy hand. He closed his skinny fingers on it with an +eager clutch, and looked in the woman's face with a vague expression of +wonder. +</p> + +<p> +"I am glad to get a shilling from you at last," said he, fondling the +note; "but this will not quite pay up the last quarter's rent. There's +about half a dollar more my due. You can come and do the spring +cleaning, and then I'll call matters square between us." +</p> + +<p> +"I thought ten dollars was the sum specified, for three months' rent," +remarked Mrs. Danforth. +</p> + +<p> +"It was," returned he, "but you know you had the pig's feet and ears at +the fall butchering, and Mrs. Pimble gave you a petticoat in the winter. +These things would amount to more than fifty cents, if I put their real +value upon them; but as you have cashed this payment, I will, as I said +before, call all square with a few days' light work from you." +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Danforth drew another note from her pocket, and, placing it in his +hand, asked him to satisfy himself of his claims upon her, as she could +not favor him with her services as he desired, having work of her own to +do. Mr. Pimble looked still more astonished when he felt the second note +between his fingers. He put it in his pocket and returned her a silver +piece. She took it, and, turning to depart, said, "I shall not want your +house any longer, Mr. Pimble. I am going to move away to-day." +</p> + +<p> +"Where are you going?" he asked, opening his sleepy eyes very wide. +</p> + +<p> +"I have hired a room in Deacon Allen's cottage," answered she. "It is +near the seminary, where William attends school." +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Pimble continued to stare on the woman, with distended eyeballs. +</p> + +<p> +"You have been a very peaceable tenant," he said at length; "I would +rent my house cheaper, if you would remain another year." +</p> + +<p> +"I have made my arrangements to move, and would prefer to do so," +returned Mrs. Danforth, bidding him good-morning. +</p> + +<p> +He looked very much disconcerted after she was gone, and muttered, he +"did not see what had set Dilly Danforth up so, all at once." +</p> + + + + +<p class="chapter"> +CHAPTER XLVII. +</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>"'Tis silent all!—but on my ear</p> +<p class="i2">The well-remembered echoes thrill;</p> +<p>I hear a voice I should not hear,</p> +<p class="i2">A voice that now might well be still.</p> +<p>Yet oft my doubting soul 't will shake;</p> +<p class="i2">Even slumber owns its gentle tone,</p> +<p>Till consciousness will vainly wake,</p> +<p class="i2">To listen though the dream be flown."</p></div></div><br> + + +<p> +"O, it is ever the wildest storms that lull to the sweetest calms!" +wrote Florence Howard, on a new-turned leaf of her well-treasured +journal. "My heart is singing grateful anthems to the all-wise Father, +who stretched forth his friendly arm to save me from the 'snare of the +spoiler.' As I sit here to-night, with a young May moon gleaming down +through the far depths of liquid ether, like a sweet, angel face of pity +and love, how dimly o'er my memory come the stormy scenes of sin and +passion which conspired to render terrible the winter that has passed +away! My soul, long torn and rent by grief and wild-contending emotions, +grows tranquil in the calm and quiet which have succeeded the furious +storm, and settles to peaceful rest. +</p> + +<p> +"It is enough for me to know my father's wrongs are righted and I am +still his own, and only his. The clown, from whose polluting arms kind +Providence rescued me, has never shown his hateful form among us since +the day that witnessed the disclosure of his father's baseness. His vile +mother has also disappeared, in search of her son. Great Heaven! to +think I was so near becoming the wife of that woman's child of sin; and, +but for that strange, wild hermit, who lifted the black curls that +veiled the monster who sought our destruction, O, where had we all been +now? And was it not a striking instance of Jehovah's righteous +retributions, that the man who was once the betrothed of my aunt, should +be the instrument selected by Heaven to disclose the villany and +wickedness of the wretch who seduced her affections by artful +falsehoods, and made her his wife, but to steal her fortune and blast +her life? Poor, dear aunt Mary! I mourn not nor pine to find she is not +my mother, for surely the fragile Edith, so rudely shocked by the +disclosures of her father's crimes, would have drooped and died, had she +not found a mother's fond affection to comfort and sustain her in the +trial hour. It is a beautiful sight, this reünion of parent and child. +How trustingly they cling to each other, and how their wan aspects +brighten in the warmth of their mutual affection! But I think there's a +love in the mother's heart yet stronger than that she feels for her +child. I watch her emotional excitement when the name of the hermit is +mentioned, and I think that early devotion has survived all +disappointments and afflictions. What a romantic thing it would be for +them to meet in the evening of life and renew the promises of their +youth! But it may not be, for the conviction steals coldly o'er me that +my dear aunt has been too deeply tried to long survive her sorrows. Even +the joy of discovering a daughter may not save her from the tomb which +opens to receive her weary form in its oblivious arms. Father looks on +the thin, wasted form, following Edith closely as her shadow, with a +fond, earnest gaze fixed on the gentle girl, and turns to hide a tear. +O, would the blow might be a while averted! All is so bright and sunny +around us now. I even try to nurse the belief that I <i>could</i> not be +happier, but my heart will rebel against the specious falsehood. Still, +still it wears the fetters love so enduringly fastened. Still I remember +that double dawn which rose on me as I stood on the cloud-veiled summit +of old, hoary-headed Mount Washington. +</p> +<div class="poemtext"> +<div class="stanzatext"> +<p>'And I saw it with such feeling, joy in blood and heart and brain,</p> +<p>I would give, to call the affluence of that moment back again,</p> +<p>Europe, with her cities, rivers, hills of prey, sheep-sprinkled downs,</p> +<p>Ay, an hundred sheaves of sceptres, ay, a planet's gathered crowns,'</p></div></div> + +<p> +"But I must not write thus, lest I grow ungrateful for the mercies of a +gracious Providence. Let me thank my God for his remembrance in the hour +of sorest need, and lie down to slumber." +</p> + +<p> +She closed her book, and, dropping softly on her knees before the low +curtained couch, leaned her young head, with its dark, clustering curls, +against the white cushions, and remained several moments in silent +prayer. Then rising, she closed the casements and retired to rest. +</p> + + + + +<p class="chapter"> +CHAPTER XLVIII. +</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>"Come rest in this bosom, my own stricken deer,</p> +<p>Though the herd should fly from thee, thy home is still here.</p></div></div> + +<hr class="short"> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>I know not, I ask not, if guilt's in thy heart;</p> +<p>I but know that I love thee, whatever thou art!"</p></div></div><br> + + +<p> +A graceful form bent over a printed page, and by the light of a waxen +taper, devoured its startling contents. Ah, how awfully startling to the +reader! for it was Louise Edson poreing over the disclosures of Col. +Malcome's wickedness and crime. But, as she drew toward the close, a +sudden ray of light struggled through the anguish and misery which had +cast her features into utter darkness, when her eye first lighted on the +glaring capitals of the criminal's name. Concealing the paper which +contained the fearful tale of his guilt, she hastened to her own +apartment. +</p> + +<p> +As the shades of the following evening drew on, a female figure, wrapped +in a large shawl, with her features closely veiled, stood at the iron +door of the huge, black jail, and besought an entrance. +</p> + +<p> +"Who do you wish to see?" demanded the jailer, in a coarse, rough tone, +seeking to penetrate the veil with his impertinent eyes. +</p> + +<p> +She breathed a low word in his ear. The man started. +</p> + +<p> +"Is it possible you wish to behold a wretch like him?" exclaimed he. +</p> + +<p> +The lady drew up her slight form with an air of dignity, and said, +"Deliver my message, and bring me his answer!" +</p> + +<p> +Awed by her manner, the jailer hastened his steps to obey her command. +</p> + +<p> +The door of a gloomy cell on the second floor of the huge building +opened with a harsh, grating sound, and the man stepped in and secured +the door behind him. The prisoner, who was sitting beside a table, with +pen and paper before him, turned round and fixed his eyes upon the +intruder. "What do you want?" asked he. "When you use double bolts and +bars to secure me, is it necessary to come every hour to see if I have +not escaped?" +</p> + +<p> +"I have not come to satisfy myself of your safety," returned the jailer, +scowling on the speaker. "There's a woman at the outer door who wants to +know if you will grant her a brief interview." +</p> + +<p> +The prisoner started abruptly at these words. "What is her name?" +demanded he, quickly. +</p> + +<p> +"I do not know," answered the man. "She did not tell me; but she seemed +mighty impatient for an answer to her request." +</p> + +<p> +The prisoner bowed his head and sat in silence several moments. At +length he said, "Bring her in! I have a curiosity to know what woman +would penetrate these walls to seek an interview with me." +</p> + +<p> +The jailer disappeared. In a few moments footsteps were heard along the +dark passage, a female form was ushered into the cheerless apartment, +and the lock turned harshly upon her. Then a white hand was laid lightly +on the bright curling locks of the bowed head, and a low voice whispered +in the ear of the incarcerated man, "It is a pitiful heart that forgets +a friend in adversity." +</p> + +<p> +"Louise!" said the prisoner, shrinking away with evident pain from her +touch. "Why are you here?" +</p> + +<p> +"To cheer you,—to comfort you," said she, earnestly regarding his pale, +handsome features. +</p> + +<p> +But he turned away from her gaze, shaking his head mournfully. "This is +the deepest humiliation I have yet endured," he said, while a creeping +shudder convulsed his frame. "To feel those clear eyes fastened upon me, +piercing through and through my soul, and reading all the guilt and +crime that's written there. O, Louise! was it not enough to drive me, by +your unrelenting scorn and bitterness, to commit the act which has +brought me here, without seeking to torment your victim by penetrating +his dungeon to mock at the misfortune your own cruelty occasioned?" +</p> + +<p> +He raised his pale, distressed face imploringly to hers as he ceased to +speak; but she started back from her position at his side, and with an +angry accent said, "I do not understand how any fell influence of mine +should cause you to break the heart of an innocent woman by your guilty +conduct with another." +</p> + +<p> +"I did not seek to refer the blame of those early sins to any influence +of yours," he answered. "How could I, when they were committed before +your birth? In the very dust I acknowledge those deeds of villany and +vileness. But too late is my grief and repentance. The blow has fallen, +and my doom is fixed." +</p> + +<p> +He leaned his arms forward upon the table, and, sinking his head upon +them, uttered a low groan of hopeless, despairing misery. +</p> + +<p> +Tears sprang to Louise's eyes, and, approaching, she dropped on her +knees at his side, and laid her hand on his arm, "Do you remember a +promise I gave you long ago?" she asked softly. "If I have seemed +forgetful, let me renew it now." +</p> + +<p> +He still retained his attitude of dejection, and seemed regardless of +her pleading tones. +</p> + +<p> +"You will not hear me," she said at length, in a voice broken with +grief, "when I kneel at your feet and ask your pardon." +</p> + +<p> +"<i>You</i> kneel to <i>me</i>!" said he, suddenly grasping her arm and +striving to raise her from the humble position. "Rise, I entreat, if you +would not drive me mad!" +</p> + +<p> +She stood before him, with tears falling fast from her beautiful eyes. +"Who is the cruel one now?" she asked. "Who throws me aside and refuses +forgiveness when it is repentantly implored?" +</p> + +<p> +"What signifies the pardon of a wretch like me?" said he, in a tone of +agony. "What is he? what can he be to you?" +</p> + +<p> +Turning her head aside, she said in a soft, trembling voice, "He is what +he has ever been, and still may be,—my world of love and happiness!" +Her cheeks flushed, as, lifting her eyes, she encountered his earnest +gaze. She sought to move away, but he was by her side. "Louise! Louise!" +said he, in a tone of thrilling emotion, "Dare I hope that you love me +still?" +</p> + +<p> +There was no word; but she put her arm round his neck and sank weeping +on his bosom. He pressed her again and again to his heart. "Ah, indeed!" +said he, at length, "this is the luxury of woe. To know at last this +love is mine, and be separated forever from its dear embraces by the +cold walls of a prison. Stern justice can inflict no pang like this." +</p> + +<p> +"Talk not of separation," said she, lifting her head, and revealing a +face redolent with happiness. "No hand shall take me from you save the +hand of death!" +</p> + +<p> +He gazed with unspeakable tenderness on her glowing features, and said +sorrowfully, "My wickedness does not deserve this angel-comforter. Why +did you withhold this blessed consolation when the world smiled brightly +on me?" +</p> + +<p> +"To bestow it when the world had cast you off," said she; "to think of +you at your best, when it had made your name a by-word and reproach." +</p> + +<p> +He pressed his lips tenderly to the white, upturned brow, and drew her +to a seat. A half-hour passed in low, earnest conversation, when the +grating of the iron key aroused them, and Louise had only time to draw +her veil over her features when the jailer entered. "I am ready to +follow you," she said, advancing toward him. +</p> + +<p> +He held the heavy door asunder, and, with one lingering glance on the +form of the prisoner, she went forth and followed her guide through the +dark passages, and down the steep flights of stairs. He unlocked the +street-door, and she stepped lightly forth beneath the light of the +stars. +</p> + + + + +<p class="chapter"> +CHAPTER XLIX. +</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>"They loved;—and were beloved. O happiness.</p> +<p>I have said all that can be said of bliss</p> +<p>In saying that they loved. The young heart has</p> +<p>Such store of wealth in its own fresh, wild pulse,</p> +<p>And it is love that works the mind, and brings</p> +<p>Its treasure to the light. I did love once,</p> +<p>Loved as youth, woman, genius loves; though now</p> +<p>My heart is chilled and seared, and taught to wear</p> +<p>The falsest of false things—a mask of smiles;</p> +<p>Yet every pulse throbs at the memory</p> +<p>Of that which has been."</p></div></div><br> + + +<p> +Summer showered her wealth of roses over the gardens and grassy paths of +Wimbledon. Day after day the sound of the busy hammer rang out on the +scented air, and crowds of workmen were seen at eventide hurrying to +their separate places of abode. Great teams, loaded with fancy and +ornamental wood and iron work, labored through the streets, and "Summer +Home" was rising from its ruins in all its former magnificence and +splendor. +</p> + +<p> +Major Howard decided he could not use the confiscated wealth of the +pretended Col. Malcome for a better purpose than to rebuild the mansion +his wickedness had destroyed. +</p> + +<p> +Florence was delighted at the prospect of regaining the beautiful home +she had lost; for, elegant and luxurious as was her present abode, she +was disquieted by too frequent remembrance of the terrible scenes she +had witnessed beneath its roof. Still, the Howards were for the most +part very happy. Edith's bright head was again covered with its golden +wealth of curls, and her merry laughter echoed joyously through the +halls and parlors of the proud mansion. It seemed her greatest delight +to bring a smile to the wan cheek of her mother, who was failing slowly, +even beneath the genial influence of a summer sun. +</p> + +<p> +As Florence stood on the vine-curtained terrace one balmy August +morning, inhaling the sweet air, and listening to the thrilling +warblings of Edith's pet canaries, as they swung in their wire-wrought +cages from the roof above, she beheld Willie Danforth coming up the +garden path, holding a letter toward her in his cunning, tempting way. +She extended her hand to receive it. +</p> + +<p> +"No," said he, suddenly drawing it back. "I don't think I'll let you +have this tiny little missive, unless you will first promise to tell me +who is the writer." +</p> + +<p> +"Why, how can I tell you till I know myself?" said she, still reaching +for the letter, which he continued to withhold, smiling at her eager, +impatient aspect. +</p> + +<p> +His frolicsome habit of teasing gently any one he loved always reminded +her of Edgar Lindenwood, and he was very like his cousin in personal +appearance. So thought Florence; and he and his mother, who lived in a +room of Dea. Allen's cottage, just across the garden, became marked +favorites of hers. +</p> + +<p> +At length Willie gave her the letter. She broke the seal quickly, and +hurried through the contents. +</p> + +<p> +"I'll tell you who 'tis from, gladly," said she, with a bright smile; +"for I fancy it will afford you pleasure to know. Do you remember a +little girl, named Ellen Williams, who used to trip over the piazza we +stand on now?" +</p> + +<p> +The young man's face brightened and blushed as he replied eagerly, +</p> + +<p> +"That do I, and her brother Neddie." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, they are both coming here to make me a nice, long visit," said +she, in a delighted tone. "Is not this happy news?" +</p> + +<p> +"It is, indeed," answered Willie; "but where did you make their +acquaintance, Florence?" +</p> + +<p> +"During the period of my travels they were my constant companions. I +recollect how eagerly Ellen inquired for you, when we first met at +Niagara; but I was then almost ignorant of your existence, and could +give her no satisfactory information. I told her there was a youth I had +heard called Willie Greyson, who lived with a hermit; and she said +Greyson was your mother's maiden name; but so dutiful and affectionate a +son as you would never leave a lonely, widowed parent to dwell with a +solitary hermit. So she would believe you were dead." +</p> + +<p> +"And did that belief appear to cause her any regret?" asked William, who +had been listening with an earnest expression to Florence's words. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, indeed," returned she; "the pretty, gentle girl has a strong +regard for you, Willie. You must renew acquaintance when she and her +brother come to pay me their long-meditated visit." +</p> + +<p> +"I don't know," said the young man, rather sadly. +</p> + +<p> +"I believe you will be a second Hermit of the Cedars, or the Hemlocks, +or the Pines," said she, laughing; "for you are already half as +melancholy as your uncle, at times." +</p> + +<p> +"Do you consider him so very gloomy, then?" asked Willie. +</p> + +<p> +"He has the most mournful expression I ever saw," answered Florence; +"but he is an entertaining companion for all that. I always sit apart, +and listen in silence, when he relates some tale or adventure of his +extensive travels. He was with us yesterday evening, and I never saw him +so animated and lively before. Even Aunt Mary's pale, grief-worn +countenance assumed a cheerful expression while listening to his +sprightly, intelligent conversation." +</p> + +<p> +"Did you not know the cause of his unusual exhilaration?" inquired +William. +</p> + +<p> +"No," said Florence, looking innocently in the face of the questioner. +</p> + +<p> +"Edgar is at home." +</p> + +<p> +"Why did he not inform us of his nephew's return?" asked Florence, +growing suddenly very pale, and finding it convenient to lean against a +pillar near by. +</p> + +<p> +"Perhaps he did not think the intelligence would interest your family," +returned Willie; "he is very modest in his confidences." +</p> + +<p> +The seminary bell now commenced to ring, and the youth hastened away +with a pleasant good-morning. +</p> + +<p> +Florence stood there a long time, behind the thickly-interwoven +woodbines and honeysuckles, supporting herself against the marble +column, forgetful of all save the blissful thought that the man she +loved was once more near her. He was, indeed, nearer than she supposed, +for there came a light footstep on the vine-shrouded terrace, and she +felt an arm stealing softly around her, while a voice, whose briefest +tone she could never mistake, whispered in her ear: +</p> + +<p> +"Again we have met, and O, Florence! say, in mercy say, it shall be to +part no more!" +</p> + +<p> +There is nothing so natural, to a woman that loves, as the presence of +the beloved object; and Florence turned toward Edgar with no amazement +or surprise; but love unspeakable lighted her features as she placed her +hand in his, tenderly, trustfully, and with a manner that convinced him +she would never withdraw it again. +</p> + +<p> +Then she led him into the drawing-room, where the family soon assembled, +and were presented to the young artist. +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Mary was delighted with his appearance, and soon engaged him in a +conversation which grew very brilliant and animated on his part, and was +joined in by Florence and Edith, till Major Howard entered, whose joy at +again beholding his former travelling companion knew no bounds, and the +mirth and merriment increased four-fold. Evening had fallen ere they +were aware, when Edgar rose and said he must return to the hermit's +habitation. +</p> + +<p> +All regretted to lose his presence, and Major Howard strongly invited +him to regard his mansion as a home while he should remain in the +vicinity. +</p> + +<p> +Edgar thanked him for his generous offer, and gracefully bowed a +good-evening. +</p> + +<p> +Florence accompanied him to the hall door, and he drew her forth on the +terrace, which was now glinted over by the silvery moonbeams. +</p> + +<p> +"Come soon again," said she. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, dearest," he answered. A long, sweet kiss and gentle adieu, in +which there was love enough to feast even her long-famishing soul, and +he was gone. +</p> + +<p> +She skipped lightly into the parlor, kissed her father, Aunt Mary, +Edith, Sylva, and Fido, the little Spanish poodle that was nestled in +her arms, and then bounded up the stairs to her own apartment, singing +as she went. +</p> + +<p> +"There goes the happiest heart in Wimbledon, to-night," said her father, +as he caught the sound of her musical voice ringing through the spacious +hall above. +</p> + +<p> +"Save one," said Aunt Mary, with a sad smile. +</p> + +<p> +"He is beyond its precincts," returned Major Howard. "Edith, did you +ever love?" said he, quickly turning his discourse toward the gentle +girl, who stood, regarding attentively the faces of the speakers, as if +she hardly comprehended their words. +</p> + +<p> +"No," answered she, innocently. +</p> + +<p> +"Heaven grant you never may," said her mother, fervently; "come, my +child, let us seek the quiet of our own apartment." +</p> + +<p> +Edith threw her arm affectionately round the wasted form. +</p> + +<p> +"Good-night, uncle," said she, and they all disappeared. +</p> + + + + +<p class="chapter"> +CHAPTER L. +</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">"We leave them at the portal</p> +<p class="i6">Of earthly happiness;</p> +<p class="i4">We pray the power immortal</p> +<p class="i6">May hover o'er to bless;</p> +<p class="i4">And strew their future pathway</p> +<p class="i6">With flowers of peace and love,</p> +<p class="i4">Till death shall call their spirits</p> +<p class="i6">To Eden realms above."</p></div></div><br> + + +<p> +When "Summer Home" rose complete in its beautiful architectural design, +with its wealth of foliage and flowers all in wildest, richest +profusion, a young bride walked under the trailing vines which overhung +the marble-supported terrace, and a manly form at her side opened the +hall door and ushered her into the magnificent drawing-rooms. It was +Florence Lindenwood. +</p> + +<p> +Then a carriage came rolling up the long avenue of cedars, conveying +Major Howard, his sister, Edith, and Sylva, with the lap-dog and pet +canaries in her care, to the newly-completed mansion. What a regal home +they entered, and how proud and happy were their beaming faces! +</p> + +<p> +The day was passed with a social group of friends, among whom Ned +Williams, his sister Ellen, and young Willie Danforth, were the most +lively and mirthful. At night-fall the hermit appeared, and was warmly +received. He sat down by aunt Mary, and conversed calmly, as was his +wont. +</p> + +<p> +Florence glanced about the apartment in search of her husband, wondering +that he did not come forward to welcome his uncle, but he had +disappeared. She flew up stairs to their apartment, and beheld him +sitting before a table, apparently absorbed in the contents of some +volume. Stepping softly forward, she leaned over his shoulder. He was +reading her journal. +</p> + +<p> +"Thief!" she exclaimed, covering the page with her little white hands, +"where did you find this?" +</p> + +<p> +"It attracted my notice this morning when I was packing your books for +removal," returned he. "I did not know I was so well loved before, +Florence," he added, with a provoking smile. +</p> + +<p> +"Look out that I do not cease to love you altogether," said she, shaking +her tiny finger playfully in his face, "if you steal into my private +affairs in this way. But come below now," she continued, taking his +hand; "uncle Ralph has arrived and waits to see you." +</p> + +<p> +They descended to the parlor, and after the pleasant evening was passed +and the guests severally departed, the hermit presented to his nephew +the fortune left him by his long-deceased father. It was much larger +than Edgar had ever supposed. He amply remunerated the care and +protection of his kind guardian, and besought him to forsake the +forest-hut and dwell beneath his grateful roof. But the recluse waived +the entreaties of the young, happy couple. +</p> + +<p> +He "could not desert his home in the cedars. It was the spot where the +most placid years of his life had been passed. He would frequently visit +the abode of Edgar, and also that of his lately-recovered sister, but +still chose to retain the wild-wood habitation as a retreat when +melancholy moods rendered him unfit for all society, and he could only +find consolation in the lone solitude of nature." +</p> + +<p> +So, with a fervent blessing on their bright young heads, he departed on +his solitary way to the distant forest. +</p> + +<p> +And the starry night stole on, while all was quiet and peaceful above +and around the mansion of "Summer Home." +</p> + + + + +<p class="chapter"> +THE LAST CHAPTER. +</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i6">"Let's part in friendship,</p> +<p class="i6">And say good-night."</p></div></div><br> + + +<p> +Shadowy-vested romance, that whilom roamed the grassy paths and +flower-strewn ways of Wimbledon, is wrapping the heavy folds of her +dew-moistened mantle around her, and stealing silently away. Yet for a +moment let her turn a parting glance toward the motley groups which have +companioned her midnight rambles, and are seen passing in the distance +with their eyes fixed steadily on her receding form. +</p> + +<p> +Foremost in the crowding phalanx we mark the firm, upright figure of Mr. +Salsify Mumbles, and his commanding aspect and majestic tread assure us +that he has "risen in his profession" to the airy summit of his most +ambitious aspirations. We fancy another story has crowned his mansion, +and a second piazza stretched its snowy palings around its painted +walls. Beside him is his amiable wife, with the sweet baby Goslina, in a +robe of dimity, pressed close to her affectionate shoulder, quackling +softly as they pass along. +</p> + +<p> +Close behind is Mary Madeline and her tender spouse, a hand of each +given to their hopeful son, who, ever and anon, turns his mites of eyes +up to his parents' faces and utters a piercing squeal. +</p> + +<p> +Then Miss Martha Pinkerton comes primly on, with Mrs. Stanhope at her +side, who turns often with a friendly glance toward a happy-seeming +couple that walk apart, as if their chief enjoyment was in each other's +society. +</p> + +<p> +"You have rescued and redeemed me," whispered a manly voice in the ear +of the graceful figure which leaned so confidingly on his arm. +</p> + +<p> +"Let us forget the past and be happy," said his companion, lifting her +clear eyes to his eloquent face. +</p> + +<p> +Their forms faded from our vision, and the pleasant reverie into which +we were sinking to weave fair garlands, to crown their future years, was +rudely broken by a ranting bustle and confusion. Philanthropy was +sweeping past. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Pimble, in nankin bloomers, with pert Susey clinging to the hem of +her brief skirt, stalked on with angry stride, vociferating at the top +of her voice. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Lawson towered indignantly at her side, joining in wrathful +denunciations of the tyrant man; and fair, persecuted Dr. Simcoe's +assenting voice was faintly heard amid the fiendish shrieks of those +pestiferous younglings, Simcoe's children. +</p> + +<p> +We knew by their ireful aspects some dreadful peril had menaced the +cause of Woman's Rights, and while we gazed, their clamor increased to +furious yells of rage and defiance, and a dark, descending cloud hung +threateningly over their wrathful heads as they passed along. +</p> + +<p> +On their vanishing shadows Mr. Pimble clappered his heelless slippers, +with the long skirts of his palm-figured wrapper streaming on the air +behind him; like the grim ghost of manhood pursuing its flying +aggressors. +</p> + +<p> +Then Florence, like a beam of light, danced past on the arm of Edgar, +and a merry, laughing group followed quickly in their rear, among which +we recognized the tall, portly form of Major Howard, smiling benignly on +the happy faces around him. +</p> + +<p> +But we looked in vain for the thin, bowed figure of his grief-stricken +sister. There were two willow-shaded graves in the grass-grown +church-yard, and o'er them bent the spectre-like form of the Hermit of +the Cedars, his gray locks moistened by the falling night-dews, and his +pale face turned upward to the midnight stars with an expression of +mournful resignation. +</p> + +<p> +As the clock in the ivy-hung steeple tower rang forth its echoing chimes +on the odorous air, we cast one glance toward the swiftly-vanishing +groups, and silently turned away. +</p> + +<p> +Cold and bitter on our long-wrapped senses strike the harsh, blunt-edged +realities of every-day existence. The multiplied images which but +yesterday peopled our brain and thronged on our notice, have "departed +thence, to return no more." +</p> + +<p> +The last sound of their multitudinous voices has died in the distance, +and Wimbledon is to us as if it had never been. +</p> +<br> +<hr class="med"> +<br> + +<h3> +<a name="245">SCRAGGIEWOOD; +<br>A +<br>TALE OF AMERICAN LIFE.</a> +</h3> + + + + +<p class="chapter"> +CHAPTER I. +</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i16">"Sweetly wild</p> +<p>Were the scenes that charmed me when a child;</p> +<p>Rocks, gray rocks, with their caverns dark,</p> +<p>Leaping rills, like the diamond spark;</p> +<p>Torrent voices thundering by,</p> +<p>When the pride of the vernal floods swelled high,</p> +<p>And a quiet roof, like the hanging-nest,</p> +<p>'Mid cliffs, by the feathery foliage drest."</p></div></div><br> + + +<p> +October's harvest-moon hung in the blue ether. Brightly fell her golden +beams on the tall, old forest trees, that pointed spar-like toward the +starry heaven, and down, through their interlacing branches, upon gray, +mossy rocks and uprooted trunks, over which wild vines wreathed in +untrained exuberance; and dim, star-eyed flowers reared their slender +heads among the rank undergrowth of bush and shrub. +</p> + +<p> +And here, in this primeval wildness, her silver beams revealed a low, +thatched cottage standing in a narrow opening. Its walls were built of +rough stones, piled one upon another in a rude, unartistical manner; and +the heavy turf roof, which projected far over the sides, was sunken and +overgrown with moss and lichens. +</p> + +<p> +From this rough dwelling proceeded tones of mirth and hilarity. How +strangely they sounded in the lone solitude of nature! Through an open +window might be seen a group, seated round a small table, consisting of +two young men, and an old woman in a high starched cap, with a huge pair +of iron-bowed spectacles mounted on her Roman nose. A child was sleeping +on a pallet in a corner of the room, and one of the young men passed the +candle a moment over the low cot, and, gazing intently on the sleeper, +asked in a lively, careless tone, +</p> + +<p> +"Sacri, Aunt Patty! is that your baby, or the fair spirit that unrolls +the destinies of mortals to your inspired vision?" +</p> + +<p> +"She is neither one nor t'other," answered the old woman. "Now please to +hold that candle up here close to my eyes." +</p> + +<p> +"But I want to know who that is asleep there; for I've a notion she is +more concerned in my destiny than anything you'll find in that old +teacup." +</p> + +<p> +"Heaven forbid!" exclaimed the woman musingly, as she continued to peer, +with a mystic expression of countenance, into a small and apparently +empty teacup, which she turned slowly round and round in her skinny +hand, muttering at intervals in an ominous undertone. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, Aunt Patty, out with it!" said the youth at length, tired of her +long silence. "Isn't it clear yet? Here's another bit of silver; toss +that in, and stir up again;" and he threw a shining half-eagle down on +the table. The woman's face brightened as she clutched it eagerly. +</p> + +<p> +"Come, now let's hear," continued the young man, "what's to be Mr. +Lawrence Hardin's destiny." +</p> + +<p> +"May be, if you saw all I see in this cup, you would not be so eager to +know its contents," said the crone in a boding voice. +</p> + +<p> +"What! Whew, old woman! croaking of evil when I've twice crossed your +palm with silver! This is too bad." +</p> + +<p> +"But don't you know the decrees of fate are unalterable?" said the +woman, solemnly. +</p> + +<p> +"O, law, yes! but I didn't know an old cracked saucer was so +formidable." +</p> + +<p> +"It is no saucer, sir; it is a cup, and your destiny is in it." +</p> + +<p> +"Ha, ha, ha!" laughed the other young man; "pretty well wound up, +Hardin, if your destiny is contained in a teacup." +</p> + +<p> +"Hush!" exclaimed the crone in an angry tone. "More than his or yours, +you noisy chatterer! The whole world's, I may say, is in the cup." +</p> + +<p> +"In the <i>pot</i>, you mean," said the youth, knocking with his bamboo +stick on the side of a small, black teapot, that stood at the old +woman's right hand. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, yes; in the pot, I should say, perhaps," added she in a softened +tone. +</p> + +<p> +"The world's destiny is in a teapot, and Aunt Patty Belcher pours it +forth at her pleasure; that's it;" and here they all joined in a hearty +laugh. +</p> + +<p> +"That will do," said Hardin at length; "now read off, good Dame Belcher. +Sumpter is digesting his fortune. Give me a more palatable one than +his." +</p> + +<p> +The old woman rubbed her long, peaked nose violently, and then raising +her eyes slowly to the young man's face, said, "Thou art ambitious, +Lawrence Hardin!" +</p> + +<p> +"Wrong there, most reverend sorceress!" exclaimed the one called +Sumpter. +</p> + +<p> +"Now, hark ye!" exclaimed the old crone; "I won't be interrupted. I +guess I know my own cups." +</p> + +<p> +"Be quiet, be quiet, Jack!" said Hardin. "Why will you be so +presumptuous as to gainsay a prophet's assertions! Go on, Aunt Patty; he +will not disturb you again." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, I tell you again," said the woman, casting a disdainful glance on +Sumpter, who had withdrawn to a chair at the foot of the cot-bed, and +was regarding attentively the tiny form lying there wrapped in tranquil +sleep, "I tell you <i>again</i>, you are ambitious. You want to be +thought great. You want to be first. You thirst for power for the sake +of bowing others to your will. You have rich parents <i>now</i>, and are +surrounded by all that heart could wish; but, mind ye, there's a dark +cloud in the rear. It threatens tempest and desolation. Soon your +parents will be dead, and you hurrying from your rich, splendid home to +seek your fortune in a distant country. You will seem to prosper for a +while, and then it blackens again. You can see yourself," she added, +holding the cup before the young man's face, "that black clump in the +bottom." +</p> + +<p> +"I see only a few tea-grounds your turnings and shakings have settled +together," remarked he, carelessly. +</p> + +<p> +"Destiny placed them as they are, young men," said the hag, solemnly. +</p> + +<p> +"May be so," he added; "but tell me, how long shall I live? Shall I be +successful in love, and will my lady be handsome?" +</p> + +<p> +"Thou wilt live longer than thou wilt wish; ay, drag on many years when +thou wouldst fain be sleeping in the earth's cold bed! Thou wilt +love,—thou wilt marry, and thy lady will be beautiful as the day-star." +</p> + +<p> +"Enough, enough!" exclaimed the youth, starting to his feet. "Do you +hear, Jack? Is not mine a brave fortune? I shall love, marry, and my +wife will be a goddess of beauty." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," said the crone; "but mark, she will not love you." +</p> + +<p> +"Whew! How is that? Not love me? And wherefore not, old woman?" +</p> + +<p> +"Because she will love another," repeated the hag in a low, but firm, +decided tone. +</p> + +<p> +"But you are spoiling your fair pictures, Aunt Patty," said Hardin. +</p> + +<p> +"Destiny is destiny," said she with a solemn look. +</p> + +<p> +"Ay, yes; I forgot!" he exclaimed, laughing gayly. "Come, Sumpter, let's +be off. I am afraid our good seeress will discover you and I fighting a +duel in that ominous cup, or brewing a tempest in her teapot." +</p> + +<p> +"Ha, ha, ha! it is not impossible," ejaculated Sumpter. "Now I believe +she did say I would go out of the world in a terrible uproar, shooting +somebody or getting shot myself. Which was it, dame?" +</p> + +<p> +"Time will tell you soon enough, young man," returned the woman, in an +angry, scornful tone. +</p> + +<p> +"O, don't be cross, good Aunt Patty!" he said, noticing her dark looks; +"don't mind my balderdash. Here's another piece of silver for you. Now, +good-night, and long live Scraggiewood and the seeress, Madam Belcher!" +</p> + +<p> +"Good-night, young men, and God bless ye, I say!" exclaimed the crone, +her eye brightening at sight of the silver. +</p> + +<p> +"Just tell me the name of the little sleeper," said Sumpter, lingering a +moment, while Hardin turned the carriage which had brought them to the +forest-cottage. +</p> + +<p> +"What do you want to know her name for?" asked Aunt Patty. +</p> + +<p> +"O, because she resembles a sister I lost," returned Sumpter after a +brief hesitation. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, it is my niece, Annie Evalyn." +</p> + +<p> +"Ah! she lives with you?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes; ever since she was born a'most. Her father and mother died when +she was a baby." +</p> + +<p> +"Hillo, Sumpter!" said Hardin, from without, "trying to coax a prettier +sequel to your fortune? Come on!" +</p> + +<p> +Sumpter hurried forth, and the carriage rattled away over the rough road +of Scraggiewood. +</p> + + + + +<p class="chapter"> +CHAPTER II. +</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2">"A holy smile was on her lip,</p> +<p class="i4">Whenever sleep was there;</p> +<p class="i2">She slept as sleep the blossoms hushed</p> +<p class="i4">Amid the silent air."</p></div></div><br> + + +<p> +The sun was peeping through the crevices of the rock-built cottage when +old Dame Belcher, the fortune-teller, awoke on the following morning. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, about time for me to be stirring these old bones," she murmured. +"Good fees last night;" and here she drew a leather bag from beneath her +pillow, and chuckled over its contents; "these little siller pieces will +buy plenty of ribbons and gewgaws for hinny, so she can flaunt with the +best of them at Parson Grey's school. She was asleep here last night +when the young city chaps came, and don't know a word about their visit; +I carried her off in my arms to her own little cot, after they were +gone, and I'll creep into her room a moment now to see if she still +sleeps." +</p> + +<p> +Thus saying, the old woman slipped on her clothes, and, crossing a rude +entry, lightly lifted a latch and entered a small, poor, though very +tidy apartment. A broken table, propped against the rough, unplastered +wall, contained a bouquet of wild flowers tastefully arranged, and +placed in a bowl of clear water, some writing materials, and a few books +piled neatly together. A fragrant woodbine formed a beautiful +lattice-work over the rough-cut hole in the wall which answered for a +window. Two chairs covered with faded chintz, and a small cot-bed +dressed in white, completed the furnishing. On this latter, breathing +softly in her quiet sleep, lay a lovely child, on whose fair, open brow +eleven summers might have shed their roses. The old woman approached, +and with her wrinkled palms smoothed away the heavy masses of chestnut +hair that curled around her childish face. +</p> + +<p> +"Bless it, how it sleeps this morning!" she said, in a low whisper; "but +it must not have its little hands up here;" and she parted the tiny +fingers that were locked above the graceful head, and laid them softly +on the sleeper's breast. "I may as well go, while she sleeps so quietly, +and gather a dish of the crimson berries she loves so well, for her +breakfast; they will be nice with a dish of old Crummie's sweet milk;" +and, pinning a green blanket over her head, the old woman went forth on +her errand. +</p> + +<p> +Meantime the child awoke, and, seeing the sunbeams stealing through the +net-work of vines, and streaming so warm and bright over the rough, +stone floor, started quickly from her couch, and, robing herself in a +pink muslin frock, issued from her room, carolling a happy morning song. +She sat down on a bench before the door of the cottage, and in a few +moments her aunt appeared, bearing in one hand a white bowl filled with +purple berries, and in the other a bucket of milk, all warm and frothing +to the brim. +</p> + +<p> +"O, then you are up, hinny!" she said, on seeing the child; "just look +at what aunty has got for your breakfast. Now, you come in and pick over +the berries with your little, nice, quick fingers, and I'll spread the +table, strain the milk, and bake a bit of oaten cake, and we'll have a +meal fit for a king." +</p> + +<p> +The child obeyed readily, and soon the humble tenants of the rocky +cottage were seated at their simple repast. +</p> + +<p> +"I've some good news to tell you, Annie," said the woman, as she cut +open a light, oaten cake, and spread a slice of rich, yellow butter over +its smoking surface. +</p> + +<p> +"What is it, aunty?" asked the child. +</p> + +<p> +"There was two gentlemen here last night, after you fell asleep on my +bed here, and they gave me lots o' siller for reading their fortunes. +I've got it all here in the leather bag for you, hinny; 'twill buy +plenty of gay ribbons to tie your pretty hair." +</p> + +<p> +"O, I would not use it for that, aunty!" said Annie, quickly. +</p> + +<p> +"What then, child?" +</p> + +<p> +"For something useful." +</p> + +<p> +"And what so useful as to make my Annie look gayest of all the village +lasses?" +</p> + +<p> +"Why, that's no use at all, aunty; I shan't have one more pretty thought +in my head for having a gay ribbon on my hair. Use it, aunty, please, to +buy me some new books, so I can enter the highest class in school when +George Wild does. Mr. Grey says I can read and cipher as well as he, +though I am not so old by two years." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, well, hinny, it shall be as you wish; just like your father,—all +for books and learning,—though your mother leaned that way too. Yes, of +all our family she was always called the lady; and lady she was, indeed, +as fine as the richest of them; but poverty, Annie,—O, 'tis a sad thing +to be poor!" +</p> + +<p> +"We are not poor, aunty," said the child, pouring the sweet milk over +her berries; "only see what nice things we have! this rich milk old +Crummie gives us, and this golden butter, and these light, sweet cakes! +O, aunty! if you would only—only"—and she paused. +</p> + +<p> +"Only what, child?" asked the fond old woman. +</p> + +<p> +"But you won't be angry if I say it?" said the child, a conscious blush +suffusing her lovely features. +</p> + +<p> +"Angry with my darling! no." +</p> + +<p> +"Only not tell any more fortunes, aunty; then we should be so happy." +</p> + +<p> +"Not tell any more fortunes! What ails the child? Why, that's the way +half our living comes; and an easy way to earn it, too; much easier than +to sit and spin on the little linen wheel from morning till night." +</p> + +<p> +"Easier, but not so honorable, is it, aunty?" +</p> + +<p> +"Honorable! Yes, child; what put it into your pretty, curly head that it +was not honorable to read future events and take fees for it?" +</p> + +<p> +"Why, sometimes the girls and boys at school laugh and scorn at me, and +call me the old witch's brat, or the young Scraggiewood seeress, or some +such name," said the child, in a tone of sorrowful regret; "and I've +often wished you would not tell fortunes any more. Learn me how to use +the small wheel, aunty, and all the hours when I'm out of school, I'll +spin fast as I can. I know we could get a very good living without your +telling fortunes; don't you think so, aunty?" +</p> + +<p> +"Why, child, I never thought a word about it," said the old woman, +gazing on the beautiful face upturned to hers, and grown so earnest in +its pleading. +</p> + +<p> +"But you will think to-day, while I'm at school, won't you, aunty? I see +George coming for me, now;" and, moving her chair from the table, she +sprang for her satchel and sun-bonnet as her little play-fellow came +over the stile, calling her name. +</p> + +<p> +"You must have on your shoes this morning, hinny," said her aunt; "there +was a heavy dew last night, and the path is wet." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," said George, "have them on, Annie, for I want you to go with me +by the brook to get some pretty eglantines I saw last night, nearly +bloomed; they are all out this morning, I know." +</p> + +<p> +Annie was soon equipped, and, with a hearty blessing from Aunt Patty, +they took their way hand in hand toward the village school. +</p> + + + + +<p class="chapter"> +CHAPTER III. +</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>"On sped the seasons, and the forest child</p> +<p>Was rounded to the symmetry of youth;</p> +<p>While o'er her features stole, serenely wild,</p> +<p>The trembling sanctity of woman's truth,</p> +<p>Her modesty and simpleness and grace;</p> +<p>Yet those who deeper scan the human face,</p> +<p>Amid the trial hour of fear or ruth,</p> +<p>Might clearly read upon its Heaven-writ scroll,</p> +<p>That high and firm resolve that nerved the Roman soul."</p></div></div><br> + + +<p> +Through three bright summers had George Wild led Annie Evalyn over the +rough forest path to the village school. They were the only children +residing in Scraggiewood, and, therefore almost constantly together. How +they roamed through the dim old woods in search of moss and wild +flowers, and, in the autumn time, to gather the brown nuts of the +chestnut and beech trees; how many favorite nooks and dells they had, in +which to rest from their ramblings, and talk and tell each other of +their thoughts and dreamings of the life to come! But George would often +say he could not understand all Annie's wild words; he thought her +whimsical and visionary, and it pained him to find her ambitious and +aspiring as her years increased; he would fain have her always a child, +rapt in the enjoyment of the present hour, content and satisfied with +his companionship and aunt Patty's purple berries and oaten cakes, +believing the heaven that closed round Scraggiewood bounded the +universe; for something whispered to his heart, if she went forth into +the wide world, she would not return to him; and he loved her as well as +his indolent nature was capable of loving, and indeed would do a great +deal for her sake. She possessed more power to rouse him to action than +any other person, and she loved him, too, very well,—but very coolly, +very calmly, with a love that sought the good of its object at the +expense of self entirely, for she could bear to think of parting with +him forever, and putting the world's width between them, so he was +benefited and his usefulness increased by the proceeding. And he had +always been her companion and protector. Next to her aunty she ought to +love him; but his mind was not of a cast with hers; he could not +appreciate her dreamy thoughts and aspirations. He was content to fold +his arms, and be floated through life by the tide of circumstances, the +thing he was; but she could not be so; she must trim her sails and stem +the current; within her breast was a spirit that would not be lulled to +slumber, but impelled her incessantly to action; there was a quenchless +thirst for knowledge, unappeased, and it must be slaked. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Grey, the kind village pastor, who had become deeply interested in +his young pupil during her attendance at the village school, offered to +take her under his charge, and afford her the privilege of pursuing a +course of study with his own daughter, Netta, with whom Annie had formed +a close friendship at school. Aunt Patty said she should be lost without +her "hinny," and George Wild remonstrated half angrily with her, for +going off to leave him alone; but all to no effect—Annie must go. +</p> + +<p> +"But why won't you go with me, George?" she asked, turning her liquid +blue eyes upon his sullen face. "Don't you want to gain knowledge, and +fame, and honor, in the great world, and perhaps some day behold +multitudes bowing in reverence at your feet?" +</p> + +<p> +"No, I want nothing of all this. I've knowledge enough now, and so have +you, if you would only think so. And, as for fame and honor, I believe +I'm happier without them, for I've often heard it remarked, 'increase of +knowledge is increase of misery.'" +</p> + +<p> +"Well, it is not the misery of ignorance," said Annie, proudly. "I am +astonished to hear such sentiments from you, George Wild. I had thought +you possessed a nobler, braver heart than to sit down here beneath the +oaks of Scraggiewood, and waste the best years of your life in sloth and +inaction." +</p> + +<p> +"Why, I've not been sitting alone, have I, Annie?" he asked with an +insinuating smile. +</p> + +<p> +"But you will sit here alone henceforth, if you choose to continue this +indolent life; childhood does not last forever; my child-life is over, +and I am going to work now, hard and earnest." +</p> + +<p> +"For what?" +</p> + +<p> +"<i>For something noble</i>; to gain some lofty end." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, I hope you'll succeed in your high-wrought schemes; but for my +part, I see no use in fretting and toiling through this life, to secure +some transitory fame and honor. Better pass its hours away as easily and +quietly as we can." +</p> + +<p> +"We should not live shrunk away in ourselves, but strive to do something +for the benefit and happiness of our species." +</p> + +<p> +"O, well, Annie! if to render others happy is your wish and aim, you +have but to remain here in your humble cottage home, and I'll promise +you you'll do that." +</p> + +<p> +"Why, George," said she, noticing his rueful countenance, "what makes +you look so woe-begone? As if I were about to fly to the ends of the +earth, when I'm only going two little miles to Parson Grey's Rectory, +and promise to walk to Scraggiewood every Saturday evening with you." +</p> + +<p> +"But I feel as if I was going to lose you, Annie, for all that; the +times that are past will never return." +</p> + +<p> +"No; but there may be brighter ones ahead," she answered, hopefully. +</p> + +<p> +George shook his head. None of her lofty aspirations found response in +his bosom; the present moment occupied his thoughts. So the common wants +of life were supplied, and he free from pain and anxiety, he was +content, nor wished or thought of aught beyond. The great world of the +future he never longed to scan, nor penetrate its misty-veiled depths, +and leave a name for lofty deeds and noble actions, that should vibrate +on the ear of time when he was no more. +</p> + +<p> +And thus drifted asunder on the great ocean of life the barks that had +floated on calmly side by side through a few years of quiet pleasure. +They might never spread their sails together again; wider and wider +would the distance grow between them; higher and higher would swell the +waves as they sped on their separate courses; the one light and buoyant +with her freight of noble hopes and dauntless steersman at the helm, the +other without sail or ballast, drifted about at the mercy of winds and +waves. +</p> + + + + +<p class="chapter"> +CHAPTER IV. +</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>"A gentle heritage is mine,</p> +<p class="i2">A life of quiet pleasure;</p> +<p>My heaviest cares are but to twine</p> +<p>Fresh votive garlands for the shrine</p> +<p class="i2">Where 'bides my bosom's treasure.</p> +<p>I am not merry, nor yet sad,</p> +<p>My thoughts are more serene than glad."</p></div></div><br> + + +<p> +It was a lovely spot, that peaceful vicarage. Tall elms shaded the +sloping roof, and roses and jessamines poured their rich perfume on the +morning and evening air. Here two years of calm, tranquil enjoyment +glided over Annie Evalyn, as she, with unremitting assiduity, pursued +the path of science under the guidance of the good parson. Each day +fresh joys were opening before her, in the forms of newly-discovered +truths. Her faculties developed so rapidly as to astonish her tutor, +wise as he was in experience, and well-taught in ancient and modern +lore. +</p> + +<p> +"Annie," said he, one evening, as they sat together in the family +parlor, "what do you intend to do with all this store of knowledge you +are treasuring up with such eager application?" +</p> + +<p> +She looked up quickly in his face, and a flush for a moment passed over +her usually pale features. +</p> + +<p> +"I know what you would say," he added; "that you think no one can have +<i>too much</i> knowledge—is it not?" +</p> + +<p> +"Do you think one can?" she asked. +</p> + +<p> +"Perhaps not too much well-regulated knowledge; knowledge adapted to an +efficient end and purpose." +</p> + +<p> +Again Annie turned her dark blue, expressive eye full upon his face. +</p> + +<p> +"I mean to put my little store of learning to good use," she said, +thoughtfully. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, so I supposed, Annie. What do you intend to do?" +</p> + +<p> +"Something great and good," she answered, her eye kindling with the +lofty thought within. +</p> + +<p> +"And could you accomplish but one, which should it be?" +</p> + +<p> +"Will not a great thing be a good one also?" she inquired. +</p> + +<p> +He shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +"That does not necessarily follow," he said; "that which is great may +not be good, but remember, Annie, what is <i>good</i> will surely be +<i>great</i>." +</p> + +<p> +"I shall consider your words, dear sir," said Annie. "I am much indebted +to you for the privileges your kindness has afforded me, and hope some +day to be able to make a grateful recompense." +</p> + +<p> +"What I do is done freely, my child, and from a sense of duty. Do not +speak of recompense. Has not the companionship you have afforded my +little Netta, to say nothing of myself and sister Rachel, amply repaid +the small trouble your instruction has caused?" +</p> + +<p> +"But you forget in all this I am as much or more the recipient as the +giver. If Netta has found me a tolerable companion, I have found her a +charming one; and all yours and aunt Rachel's teachings—ah! I fear I'm +much the debtor after all," she said, shaking her head, doubtfully, and +smiling in her listener's face with artless simplicity and gratitude. +</p> + +<p> +"No, no, not a debtor, Annie," he said, stroking her bright curls; "I +cannot admit that. Let the benefits be mutual, if you will, nothing +more. I see Netta in the garden gathering flowers. She is a good little +girl, and loves you dearly, though she has none of the brilliancies that +characterize your mind. I do not intend to flatter; go now and join your +friend. I expect a party of western people to visit me to-morrow, and +have some preparations to make for their reception." +</p> + +<p> +Annie bowed, and glided down the gravelled path of the garden. In a +shady bower she found Netta, arranging a bouquet of laurel leaves and +snow-white jessamines. +</p> + +<p> +"O!" she exclaimed, looking up as Annie approached; "there you are, sis. +Now I'll twine you a wreath of these fragrant flowers." +</p> + +<p> +"And I'll twine one for you, Netta," said Annie. "Of what shall it be?" +</p> + +<p> +"Simple primroses or violets; these will best adorn my lowly brow; but +Annie, bright Annie Evalyn, shall wear naught but the proud laurel and +queenly jessamine;" and, giving a twirl to her pretty wreath, she tossed +it over her friend's high, marble-like brow, bestowing a playful kiss on +either cheek as she did so. +</p> + +<p> +"Does it sit lightly, Annie?" she asked. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, Netta, and now bend in turn to receive my wreath of innocence, not +more pure and lovely than the brow on which it rests." +</p> + +<p> +Netta knelt, and the garland was thrown over her flaxen curls. Thus +adorned, the lovely maidens strolled up the avenue, arm in arm, and made +their way to the study-room, as it was called; a large, airy chamber +fronting the east, situated in a retired portion of the house, to be +removed from noise and intrusion. +</p> + +<p> +"Now you shan't study or write to-night, for who knows when we may have +another quiet evening together? These western friends of father's are +coming to-morrow, and our time and attention will be occupied with them. +I want to hear you talk to-night, Annie. Tell me some of your eloquent +thoughts, your glowing fancies. I'm your poor, little, foolish Netta, +you know." +</p> + +<p> +"You are my dear, dear friend," said Annie, throwing her arms +impulsively round the slender, graceful neck, and kissing the soft young +cheek. "I'm feeling sad and gloomy this evening, and fear I cannot +entertain you with conversation or lively chit-chat." +</p> + +<p> +"Tell me what makes you sad." +</p> + +<p> +"I don't know. Are you never sad without knowing the cause of your +gloomy feelings?" +</p> + +<p> +"No, I think not." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, I am. Often a shadow seems thrown across my spirit's heaven, but +I cannot tell whence it comes; the substance which casts the shade is +invisible. Who are these friends of your father's that are to visit us?" +</p> + +<p> +"O, they are a wealthy family with whom father became acquainted in the +circuit of his travels last season." +</p> + +<p> +"Their name?" +</p> + +<p> +"Prague, Dr. Prague, wife and daughter; also two young children, for +whom they are seeking a governess here in the east, as good teachers are +obtained with difficulty in their section of the country." +</p> + +<p> +"Ah!" said Annie, in a tone of voice so peculiar that Netta turned +involuntarily toward her. +</p> + +<p> +"O, Annie, Annie!" she exclaimed, and threw her arms round her friend's +neck. +</p> + +<p> +"What has so suddenly alarmed you?" asked Annie, endeavoring to soothe +her. +</p> + +<p> +"You won't go off with these strangers and leave us, will you, dear +Annie?" +</p> + +<p> +"Why, who is a visionary now, Netta?" she asked, laughing merrily; "what +put the thought of my going away into this pretty head, lying here all +feverish with excited visions? Pshaw, Netta, you are a whimsie!" +</p> + +<p> +"Then you won't go?" she said, her face brightening. "No thought of +becoming the governess this western family are seeking, and going away +with them, has entered your brain?" +</p> + +<p> +"Why should there, Netta?" +</p> + +<p> +"But would you say nay should you receive the offer?" +</p> + +<p> +"I can tell better when the moment arrives. But there, Netta, don't +cloud that fair brow again. I feel well assured no such moment will +come." +</p> + +<p> +"I'm not so sure, Annie." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, well, let us kiss, and retire to be ready to receive the visitors +on the morrow." +</p> + +<p> +And with a sisterly embrace they sought their private apartments. +</p> + + + + +<p class="chapter"> +CHAPTER V. +</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>"O, show me a place like the wild-wood home,</p> +<p class="i2">Where the air is fragrant and free,</p> +<p>And the first pure breathings of morning come</p> +<p class="i2">In a gush of melody.</p> +<p>When day steals away, with a young bride's blush,</p> +<p class="i2">To the soft green couch of night,</p> +<p>And the moon throws o'er, with a holy hush,</p> +<p class="i2">Her curtain of gossamer light."</p></div></div><br> + + +<p> +Alone Annie Evalyn was walking in the summer twilight over the rough +road toward Scraggiewood. +</p> + +<p> +Near two months had elapsed since she last visited her Aunt Patty at the +rock-built cottage, and she pictured in her mind, as she walked on, the +surprise and good-natured chiding which would mark her old aunt's +reception. She gazed upward at the tall forest trees swaying to and fro +in the light evening breeze, and far into its dim, mazy depths, where +gray rocks lay clad in soft, green moss, and gnarled, uprooted trunks +overgrown with clinging vines, and pale, delicate flowers springing +beautiful from their decay. She listened to the murmuring of the brook +in its rocky bed, and a thousand memories of other years rushed on her +soul. The strange, fast-coming fancies that thronged her brain when she +in early childhood roamed those dark, solemn woods, or sat at night on +the lowly cottage stile, gazing on the wild, grotesque shadows cast by +the moonbeams from the huge, forest trees; or how she listened to the +solemn hootings of the lonesome owl, the monotonous cuckoo, and sudden +whippoorwill; or laughed at the glowworm's light in the dark swamps, and +asked her aunty if they were not a group of stars come down to play +bo-peep in the meadows. +</p> + +<p> +And then she thought of George Wild, her early playfellow. He was away +now, in a distant part of the country, whither he had been sent by his +father to learn the carpenter's trade. He had come to bid her good-by +with tears in his eyes, not so much at parting from <i>her</i>, she +fancied, as from dread of the active life before him. It would be hard +to tell whether Annie felt most pity or contempt for his weakness. He +was the only friend of her early childhood, and, <i>as</i> such, she had +still a warm, tender feeling at her heart for him; and, had he possessed +a becoming energy and manliness of character, this childish feeling +might have deepened into strong, enduring affection as years advanced. +But Annie Evalyn could never love George Wild as he <i>was</i>; and thus +she thought as she brushed away a tear that had unconsciously started +during her meditations, and found herself at the door of her aunt's +cottage. She bounded over the threshold and into the old lady's arms, +bestowing a shower of kisses ere poor Aunt Patty could sufficiently +collect herself and recover from the surprise to return her darling's +lavish caresses. +</p> + +<p> +"Ah, yes, you naughty little witch! here you are at last, pretending to +be mighty glad to see your old aunty, though for two long months you've +never come near her. But, bless it, how pretty it grows! and how red its +cheeks are, and how bright its eyes!" she exclaimed, brushing away the +curling locks and gazing into her darling's face. +</p> + +<p> +"But you'll forgive me, aunty, won't you?" said Annie, coaxingly. +"Indeed, I meant to have come long before; but if you only knew how much +I have had to occupy my time,—so many things to learn, and such hard, +hard lessons." +</p> + +<p> +"O, yes! always at your books, studying life away." +</p> + +<p> +"Why, aunty! you just exclaimed how fresh and blooming I was grown, and +I've something so nice to tell you. There are some wealthy people from +the west visiting at Parson Grey's, and they were in search of a +governess for their little children. Would you think it, aunty, their +choice has fallen upon me? and I am to accompany them on their return +home. They have a daughter about my own age, sweet Kate Prague. She will +be a fine companion—I love her so dearly now." +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Patty dropped her arms by her side, and remained silent after Annie +had ceased speaking. +</p> + +<p> +"What is the matter, aunty?" asked she, eagerly. +</p> + +<p> +"And so you, young, silly thing, are going to leave your friends and go +off with these strangers, that will treat you nobody knows how. Annie! +Annie! does Parson Grey approve of this?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, aunty; he thinks it will be a fine opportunity for me to see +something of the world, and learn the arts and graces of polite +society." +</p> + +<p> +"Ah! but these great, rich folks are often unkind and overbearing, and +oppress and treat with slight and scorn their dependents." +</p> + +<p> +"O, Mr. Grey knows this family well, and recommends them in the highest +terms." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, for all that, I can't bear the thought of losing you. So young +and ignorant." +</p> + +<p> +"Ignorant, aunty? Why, Dr. Prague himself says I know twice as much as +his daughter Kate." +</p> + +<p> +"Ah! book-learnin' enough; but I will tell you, Annie, a little +experience is better than all your books." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, how am I to obtain experience but by mingling in the world, and +learning its manners and customs?" +</p> + +<p> +"Ah, dear! I fear you will find this world, you are so anxious to see +and know, is a hard, rough place." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, aunty, don't dishearten me at the outset. See what a nice box of +honey I've brought you from Aunt Rachel Grey. Some of it will be +delightful on your light batter cakes, with a slice of old Crummie's +yellow butter. I must go out and bid the dear old creature good-by. How +I used to love to drive her to the brook for water!" +</p> + +<p> +"Ah, those were happy days for me, Annie!" said the old woman, +sorrowfully. "I shall never see the like again." +</p> + +<p> +"Don't say so, aunty," said Annie, her own heart experiencing a thrill +of anguish at the prospect of leaving her old forest-home, and kind, +loving protector. "I shall return some day, may be rich and famous, and +<i>good</i>, too, I hope; for Parson Grey says 'tis better to be good +than great." +</p> + +<p> +"God grant all your bright visions may be realized, Annie!" said the +aunt fervently. +</p> + +<p> +"Now, while you prepare our evening meal, I'll run out and look at some +of my old haunts," said Annie, forcing back a tear, and trying to assume +a cheerful countenance. +</p> + +<p> +So she wandered forth, while the grief-stricken woman spread the simple +board; but she could not relish the clear, dripping honey-comb sent by +the kind Aunt Rachel, and long after Annie slept in her little cot-bed, +did the old lady kneel over her sleeping form, weeping and praying for +her darling child. Annie spent the ensuing day with her aunt at the +cottage, and toward evening took a tearful leave, and bade adieu to +Scraggiewood. +</p> + + + + +<p class="chapter"> +CHAPTER VI. +</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2">"And there was envy in her look,</p> +<p class="i6">And envy in her tone,</p> +<p class="i2">As if her spirit might not brook,</p> +<p class="i6">A rival near the throne."</p></div></div><br> + + +<p> +"But don't you see, Dr. Prague, it won't do at all to admit her into +society on the same footing with our Catherine? For my part I don't see +how you could, for a moment, harbor so low an idea." +</p> + +<p> +In a far away period of time, the present honorable Mrs. Dr. Prague +had—shall we write it?—cut shoe-strings in her father's shop, and why +should not she be a competent judge of the low and common, since +experience is regarded as the "best teacher" in <i>almost</i> all +matters beneath the sun? +</p> + +<p> +"I say," she reiterated, finding her remark elicited no response from +her worthy husband, "Annie Evalyn is not to be compared to our +Catherine." +</p> + +<p> +"I'm aware of that," was the answer in a dry tone. +</p> + +<p> +"And don't you notice how the minx tries to put on the lady?" +</p> + +<p> +"Not at all, madam; why should she strive to assume what is her natural +garb?" +</p> + +<p> +"Now really, Hippe, you are getting incorrigible." +</p> + +<p> +"Hippe" was a term of endearment, Mrs. Dr. Prague was accustomed to +apply to her husband when she wished to be very killing and +condescending, his Christian name being Hippocrates. +</p> + +<p> +To this winning speech, however, the insensate Dr. vouchsafed no reply; +so his lovely wife tacked about and said, "Well, Dr., to come to the +point, this governess is a dangerous rival for your daughter." +</p> + +<p> +"I know it," responded the good man, cutting up an orange, and passing a +silver plate containing several slices to his fair lady; "here, Mrs. +Prague, do regale yourself on this luscious fruit. It is the finest I +have tasted this season." +</p> + +<p> +"Dr. Prague, when I am discussing matters of importance, I do not wish +to be insulted by such frivolities." +</p> + +<p> +"Indeed, madam," said the doctor, withdrawing the plate, and proceeding +leisurely to the gratification of his own palate. +</p> + +<p> +There was a silence of some minutes, and then the lady, after fidgeting +and arranging the folds of her brocade silk, resumed the conversation by +saying, in a huffy tone, "May I inquire what you intend to do about it, +sir?" +</p> + +<p> +"Begging your pardon, madam," said the doctor, looking up from his +orange, "of what were you speaking?" +</p> + +<p> +The lady frowned frightfully at this fresh instance of his inattention +to her discourse. +</p> + +<p> +"I only wished to know if you thought of marrying Frank Sheldon to Annie +Evalyn, in preference to your own daughter," she exclaimed, in a biting, +sarcastic tone. The <i>matter</i> but not the <i>manner</i> of this +speech seemed to rouse the doctor's attention. +</p> + +<p> +"Frank Sheldon! Frank Sheldon!" he said quickly; "has he arrived from +his travels then?" +</p> + +<p> +"No, but he <i>will</i> arrive some time." +</p> + +<p> +"O, yes, I trust so! But speaking of Annie,—<i>our</i> Annie you know, +for I'm proud that we have such a treasure beneath our roof——" +</p> + +<p> +"Dr. Prague! are you mad? A paltry governess a treasure! I consider it a +shame and disgrace to our house, that a poor, low, dependent, is allowed +an equality in the family, and admitted through our influence to the +first classes in society. And I'm not the only one that marks the +shocking impropriety. My son-in-law, Lawrence Hardin, is possessed of a +discerning eye. He sees Kate loses wherever that girl is admitted." +</p> + +<p> +This speech was accompanied by immoderate vehemence, and energetic +gestures, but it failed to produce the slightest effect upon the +phlegmatic doctor, who, having finished his orange, settled himself +comfortably in his easy-chair, and took a cigar and the morning paper to +assist his digestion. +</p> + +<p> +"Thirteen increase from last week. I declare, our city is growing +sickly," he said, as his wife closed her oratorical harangue; "but, +speaking of Annie again, she has a poetical gem in one of our popular +magazines this week, which I find accompanied by a complimentary note +from the editor. She writes under a <i>nom de plume</i>, but I +discovered her. Have you read any of her writings, Mrs. Prague?" +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Her</i> writings! the bold, impertinent hussy! No, nor do I wish to. +But if I'm to be entertained with this sort of conversation, I'll go +down to my son-in-law, Esq. Hardin's; and there I'm sure to pass an +agreeable day. Nothing low ever tarnishes his discourse." +</p> + +<p> +"Do so, madam," said the imperturbable husband; "undoubtedly they will +appreciate the honor of your presence." +</p> + +<p> +And with a disdainful toss the lady flouted out of the room, leaving the +good doctor to the undisturbed enjoyment of his cigar and papers. +</p> + +<p> +Annie Evalyn had been nine months an inmate of Dr. Prague's mansion, +when the preceding scene was enacted. Some of that experience which Aunt +Patty had pronounced "better than book learnin'," had fallen to her +share. So far from her beauty and accomplishments winning friends and +good-will, they had only seemed to provoke the sneers and invidious +remarks of those who envied her superior attractions. She had seen the +contemptuous curl of the lip, and heard the epithet, "low-born +creature." She had bitterly learned that genius and beauty are not the +current coins of society; and she sometimes thought the old adage, +"Knowledge is power," would read truer, "Money is power." But though she +had dark hours, her young heart's courage had not failed. Still the +unalterable purpose was firm, to be active, to be striving for fame, +honor and good repute. Latterly she had turned her attention to literary +subjects, and produced several pieces that received warm commendation +from the press. +</p> + +<p> +Annie had been but a few weeks in her new residence, ere her quick eye +discerned that Mrs. Prague looked upon her with envy and jealousy, and +she endeavored to conciliate the lady's esteem by gentleness and +condescension; but all efforts were vain. She persisted in her coldness +and perversity. This was so unpleasant to Annie that she several times +signified her readiness to leave when her presence was no longer +desired; but the old doctor, who was her most zealous advocate, declared +he should go distracted if she left them. Kate cried and the children +howled in terror at the prospect of such a calamity. Mrs. Prague looked +lofty and said, "Miss Evalyn was a trusty governess, and they might +increase her salary if she thought it insufficient." +</p> + +<p> +"Double it, if she says so," said the doctor; "but money can't reward +services like hers. How could you pay the sun for illuminating your +drawing-rooms, Mrs. Prague?" +</p> + +<p> +And Mrs. Prague darted an angry glance, and said she would go down to +her son-in-law's. +</p> + + + + +<p class="chapter"> +CHAPTER VII. +</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>"To love's sweet tones my heart shall never thrill;</p> +<p>Nor, as the tardy years their circles roll,</p> +<p>Shall they the ardor of its pulses chill."</p></div></div><br> + + +<p> +Reclining on a silken sofa, in a luxurious apartment, was a lady in the +prime of youth and beauty. She was robed in a white, wrought-muslin +gown, and her glossy ringlets lay in dark relief on its snowy folds. She +was reading at intervals from a small gilt volume, but with a wandering +listlessness of manner, as though it were a weary effort to fix her +attention upon its contents. +</p> + +<p> +This was the wife of Lawrence Hardin, Esq., one of the most wealthy, +influential men in that part of the country. He arrived there from the +east a few years before, bringing a large fortune, which he came in +possession of by the sudden death of his parents. He embarked largely in +speculations, and was very successful; in consequence of which, the +mercantile class in their most critical junctures looked up to him as a +superior and safeguard. He soon grew to be a man of great power and +influence, and in the full tide of prosperity bore away the beautiful +Marion Prague, the reigning belle of the city, as his bride. There was a +rumor afloat that the match afforded the fair lady but meagre +satisfaction, and that her taste and wishes were not much consulted in +the matter; but the angry importunities of her proud, self-willed mother +at length induced her to marry a man she did not love. But this idle +report was hushed after their marriage, and the devotion of the young +couple loudly descanted on in fashionable circles throughout the city; +for was not Hardin all attention, and how could she avoid loving so fine +a fellow? So the world called it a nice match, and passed on. Let us +pause for a glance behind the scenes. +</p> + +<p> +A slight tap at the door of that elegant boudoir, and then it swung +softly on its gilded hinges, and a gentleman, richly dressed, with +shining hat, dark broadcloth over-coat, and a light bamboo stick in his +neatly-gloved hand, entered and approached the couch on which the lady +reclined. He was rather above the medium height, of commanding figure, +with jetty hair and mustaches and deep-set, piercing black eyes. Laying +aside hat and gloves, he sat down by the sofa, and commenced playfully +poking the long, wavy ringlets that lay on the crimson damask pillow +with the gold tip of his tiny walking-cane. She had resumed her book on +his first appearance, and continued to peruse its pages. She did not +look toward him, or speak, and it was evident, from a slightly-clouded +brow, that his presence rather annoyed than pleased her. +</p> + +<p> +This was Lawrence Hardin and lady in the privacy of their own apartment. +</p> + +<p> +"Why don't you speak to me, Marion?" he asked, at length. +</p> + +<p> +No answer, and the brow grew darker. He bent over her, and endeavored to +take the book from her hand. She tightened her grasp for a moment to +resist his efforts, and then, suddenly relaxing her hold, turned toward +the wall. +</p> + +<p> +He gazed on her several moments with a mingled expression of anger and +wounded tenderness, and then turned away. +</p> + +<p> +Half an hour later the young wife met her husband in the breakfast-room, +and presided with benign and gracious dignity over his well-laid table; +inquired "if Esq. Hardin found the chocolate and sardines to his +relish;" and he extolled Mrs. Hardin's excellent superintendence of +domestic affairs; said business in his office would detain him from her +till the dinner hour, and, expressing a hope that she might pass the +morning agreeably, bowed himself out of the presence of his lovely wife, +who replied to his civilities courteously, and even smiled brightly at +his parting nod at the hall door. And the servants in attendance saw and +listened; and reported, and enlarged on the "wonderful love" and +happiness of their young master and mistress. So this <i>nice match</i> +was noised abroad over the whole city, and a hundred families envied the +domestic felicity of Esq. Hardin and wife. O, the endless masquerade of +life! +</p> + +<p> +Several weeks later the unloved husband entered his young lady's +apartment. She stood before the dressing-table, arranging her hair for +the evening. She cast a brief glance toward him, and then proceeded +quietly with her toilet. The chilling indifference wounded him acutely, +and he addressed her rather hastily: "Marion, do you think I shall +always have patience?" +</p> + +<p> +"I don't know, I'm sure," she answered, carelessly; "but of what do you +complain? Do I not perform the duties of your mansion in a manner to +satisfy your fastidious tastes?" +</p> + +<p> +"Don't mock or trifle," he said, bitterly. "I'm not a machine, or an +automaton, and I want something more than my servants, my drawing-room +and table well attended, to satisfy my heart." +</p> + +<p> +"You knew I did not love you when you married me." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, but I did <i>not</i> know that you hated me." +</p> + +<p> +"Nor did I." +</p> + +<p> +"And what have I done since to incur your detestation?" +</p> + +<p> +"Nothing." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, then, will you treat me with a little less of this freezing +coldness and scorn when we are alone together?" +</p> + +<p> +Tears started in those beautiful eyes, and he advanced to embrace her, +but she motioned him away. No, they were not there for him. She +struggled a few moments, and then, uncovering her face, said calmly: +</p> + +<p> +"Sit down, Lawrence; I will endeavor to comply with your wishes." +</p> + +<p> +He drew a damask fauteuil opposite the one on which she was reclining, +and sank among its downy cushions. The rays of the setting sun streamed +into the richly-furnished apartment and fell upon the two occupants. +</p> + +<p> +"What news in the city, to-day?" inquired Marion, at length. +</p> + +<p> +"Nothing particularly interesting, I believe," he answered. "I was at +your father's to-night; they are making preparations for a large party +next week, given in honor of Frank Sheldon's arrival." +</p> + +<p> +Some noise in the street at this moment attracted his attention, and he +rose to look forth. When he turned again, he beheld his wife lying on +the carpet pale and cold as marble. +</p> + + + + +<p class="chapter"> +CHAPTER VIII. +</p> + +<p class="ctr"> +"Strange scenes will often follow on abrupt surprise." +</p><br> + + +<p> +Annie Evalyn was alone in her apartment. A servant had just left a small +package, and she was now occupied with its contents. First was a letter +from the good parson, full of fatherly advice and admonition; then one +from Netta, a sheet written full, in a neat, delicate hand, describing a +visit to Aunt Patty's cottage, and a score of messages enumerated which +the old lady had desired transmitted to her "dear hinny," as she still +called Annie. "Tell her I don't tell fortunes now, for I know she will +like to hear that; because once I remember she said, 'I wouldn't tell +fortunes, aunty, for I don't think it is respectable.' So tell her I +earn a good living by spinning on my little wheel, and try to be happy +thinking she is so. But, sometimes, when the wind howls through the deep +woods, I can't help feeling lonesome, and think, if Annie were only here +to sing some of her pretty songs, how cheery the old walls would look! +And tell her, if she should ever grow tired and heart-sick in the midst +of the world's fashions and splendors, the old thatched roof in +Scraggiewood will joy to shelter her; and the old heart here will warm +and love her into life and happiness again." +</p> + +<p> +Annie felt the tears come as she read, for she had often of late +experienced a longing wish for a gentle friend in whom to confide and +trust. +</p> + +<p> +Now Netta spoke of their home at the vicarage. "It was lonesome yet," +she said, "and the old study had never worn a cheerful aspect since its +good genius departed. Father and Aunt Rachel spoke of bright-faced Annie +every day; but most of all <i>she</i> missed the dear, loving companion +when she retired to her chamber at night." And then she wrote, "Your old +friend George Wild, has returned quite a changed being, I assure you. I +think you must have infused some of your energy and action into his +nature, for he has become an active business man. He works at his trade +in the village, and I see him frequently. We have long, cosey chats +about you, Annie." Annie laughed as she read. +</p> + +<p> +"Dear little Netta!" she exclaimed, "I see through it all; it is clear +as day. But I'm willing you should use my name, darling, to subserve +your timidity. I'll answer this sweet letter this morning. I'm alone, +and now is a good time." +</p> + +<p> +She looked about for her writing-materials, and suddenly remembered she +had left them in the school-room the evening previous. As she lightly +descended the stairs, the bell rang, and the hall door being open, she +came in full view of a gentleman standing on the marble steps e'er she +was aware, and in another moment he was at her side, exclaiming, +</p> + +<p> +"Astonishing! Is it possible? Can this be Kate Prague?" +</p> + +<p> +Annie blushed as she perceived his mistake, and hastened to rectify it. +</p> + +<p> +"I am not Miss Prague," she said, "but a member of the family at +present. I think I have the honor of addressing Mr. Sheldon." He bowed +gracefully. +</p> + +<p> +"The ladies are gone out for a short drive this morning. Will you be +pleased to wait their return in the drawing-room?" +</p> + +<p> +He accepted the invitation and entered the apartment, offering, as he +did so, an apology for his mistake, which she acknowledged with another +rising blush. +</p> + +<p> +"I think Dr. Prague received intelligence last evening that you would +not arrive till next week," she remarked, as they were seated in the +parlor. "Had they expected you sooner, I'm sure they would have been at +home to receive you." +</p> + +<p> +"I did send a letter to that effect," he said; "but the improved +facilities of travelling have enabled me to reach the city sooner than I +anticipated." +</p> + +<p> +A silence ensued. Annie felt ill at ease. She had received many hints of +the lofty, aristocratic notions of Frank Sheldon. She knew him to be +wealthy, and the prospective lover of Kate Prague; that is, Kate had +informed her that "Marion had been first designed for him; but by some +means that plan failed, and then mother married her to Hardin, and +Sheldon was left for her. She supposed she should marry him some time, +though she did not care a fig for him, he was so grave, and always +talking on literary subjects which she could not understand and +therefore mortally abhorred." +</p> + +<p> +All this passed quickly through Annie's mind, and, rising, she said she +"thought the ladies would soon return; perhaps he could amuse himself +with the contents of the centre-table a brief while." +</p> + +<p> +"O, yes!" he said politely. "I can ever pass time agreeably with books +and paintings." She courtesied and retired to her own apartment. "What a +vision of loveliness!" he mentally exclaimed when left alone. "I wonder +if Kate Prague is half so beautiful. Who can this lady be?" +</p> + +<p> +A carriage now rattled up to the door, and the ladies came bundling into +the apartment. He suddenly recollected he was there unannounced, but +what could he do? +</p> + +<p> +"Bless me! Mercy! Why, Mr. Sheldon here, and nobody to receive him! What +must he think?" exclaimed Mrs. Prague, in a tone of astonishment. +</p> + +<p> +"I'm most concerned, my good madam," said he, advancing, for what you +must think to find me so unceremoniously ensconced in your +drawing-room." +</p> + +<p> +"Don't say a word about that," was the answer. "Was not this once your +home? I hope you will still regard it in that light. Kate, come forward; +here is Mr. Sheldon. I declare, what a delightful surprise!" The old +doctor now entered, and burst into a torrent of welcome on beholding +Sheldon. +</p> + +<p> +"How did you get here, my boy," he asked, "to steal upon us so slyly, +when I received a letter only yesterday saying you would not reach us +before next week?" +</p> + +<p> +Sheldon explained briefly. When he mentioned that a young lady had +escorted him to the parlor, and invited him to await the family's +return, a visible frown lowered over Mrs. Prague's before smiling +countenance, and she and Catherine soon excused themselves to prepare +for dinner. +</p> + + + + +<p class="chapter"> +CHAPTER IX. +</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>"But, ah! if thou hadst loved me—had I been</p> +<p>All to thy dreams that to mine own thou art."</p></div></div><br> + + +<p> +On a dim, gray morning in early winter, Lawrence Hardin sat by the couch +of his wife, her thin, wasted hand lying unconsciously in his, and her +quick, heavy breathings moving the dark locks of his hair, as he bent +low over her sleeping form. Three months had passed since that fainting +scene, and the young wife had encountered a long, severe stroke of +illness. The husband watched incessantly by her bed-side, for he would +not suffer her wild, fevered ravings to be heard by other ears than his +own. +</p> + +<p> +It was all revealed to him. He knew he had married a woman whose heart +was another's, and that she had been compelled to the step by the +threats and vehemence of her mother. +</p> + +<p> +O, how the strong man writhed in his agony! To know Marion did not love +him, was enough to endure; but to know she loved another, ah! that was +madness. His passions were roused to fury, yet not on <i>her</i> should +they wreak their vengeance. No; on the man that had stolen her love from +him, or rather the man on whom she had bestowed her love, Frank Sheldon. +On his devoted head should the vengeance fall. +</p> + +<p> +Thus he resolved, but kept his fell design buried in his own breast, +and, by an engaging exterior, sought to lure his victim into his toils. +</p> + +<p> +Sheldon was a brave, generous fellow. Left early an orphan, he had been +reared in the family of Dr. Prague, who was instituted guardian of the +large fortune left by his parents. He was endowed by nature with fine +intellectual abilities, and an exquisite taste for the grand and +beautiful in nature and art, and, during three years' travel in foreign +parts, had so improved upon these natural advantages, as to stand +acknowledged one of the most elegant and accomplished young men of his +country. But it often happens that such high-wrought natures are but +poorly versed in the plodding concerns of this nether world. And thus it +was with him. Alive to every lofty feeling and generous impulse, he +fancied others like himself. Low cunning and artifice were unknown to +his bosom, and consequently he would fall the easier victim to Hardin's +scheme of revenge. +</p> + +<p> +And now there came another fact to this base man's knowledge. Sheldon +had not only robbed him of Marion's affections, but had won and slighted +Kate Prague, to fall in love with Annie Evalyn. Worse still, the passion +was mutual. That <i>he</i> saw and knew long before the parties +themselves had acknowledged the growing love in the still depths of +their own beating hearts, much more given voice to the feeling in words. +</p> + +<p> +Love is so blind, and shy, and unbelieving, the poets tell us. Had +Sheldon's love met no response, then Hardin's revenge had been in part +gratified; but now it was only whetted to a keener edge, for he saw, or +fancied he saw, not only his rival's happiness, but the sister of the +woman he loved pining from an unrequited affection. +</p> + +<p> +As he revolved these dark thoughts in his vile breast, the hand he held +moved suddenly, and the sleeper murmured in her dreams. He bent his ear +eagerly to catch the sound, but it was gone. He smoothed the damp, dark +locks away from the pale brow, and gazed on her thin, attenuated +features—yet more beautiful, they seemed to him, than in the ruddy glow +of health. O that she would open her eyes and gaze up tenderly into his! +And when she was able to sit in a soft-cushioned chair, robed in a snowy +dressing-gown, and propped with pillows, receiving his attentions with +such a pretty shyness and distrust; or a few weeks later, when, still +more recovered, leaning so coyly on his arm to wander over her splendid +mansion again, and looking so timidly in his face, as if, now her secret +was known, she had no right to claim or expect tenderness from him;—all +this reserve made her so much dearer, and he thought, if she would but +give him one little look of love, he would even forget his meditated +revenge on Sheldon. +</p> + +<p> +But, ah! he looked in vain for lurking love in those cold, beautiful +eyes. There was submission,—there was gratitude; but what were those? +</p> + +<p> +Again the fashionable world said, "Esq. Hardin and lady are more devoted +than ever;" and they congratulated Mrs. Dr. Prague on the <i>nice +match</i> she had secured for her daughter Marion. And the haughty, vain +mother exulted, for she was a superficial observer of human nature, and +could not, or <i>would</i> not, see the wasting woe that was preying on +her daughter's health and beauty. +</p> + +<p> +It was a gay season at the doctor's mansion. Sheldon's arrival was the +signal for a round of entertainments among the élite of the city; for, +be it known, there were others than good Mrs. Prague anxious to secure +so eligible a match for their daughters, as the handsome, rich and +gifted Frank Sheldon. A manœuvring mother! reader, hast ever seen +one? And if so, dost know of another so contemptible thing in the whole +broad realm of the low, sordid and despicable? +</p> + +<p> +The good old doctor, with his usual obstinacy, insisted that Annie +Evalyn should make one of all the parties of amusement; and, in truth, +Sheldon was quite as anxious to secure her society as was the doctor to +"set her forward," as Mrs. Prague expressed it. That lady was +exceedingly vexed and mortified at the turn matters were taking; but +Kate, partaking largely of her father's easy nature, seemed as merry and +well-pleased as though Sheldon had fallen in love with her, instead of +Annie Evalyn; for it began to be whispered in the upper circles that +"Dr. Prague's pretty governess had captivated the fascinating Sheldon." +Many ugly grimaces distorted the proper faces of marriageable daughters; +and captious, ill-natured remarks were indulged in by disappointed +maidens, who had beggared their fathers' pockets to purchase silks and +satins, jewels and diamonds, to carry by storm the heart of the elegant, +accomplished Frank Sheldon. +</p> + +<p> +Alas for human hopes and expectations! And what a perverse, capricious, +wilful little fellow is this god of love, whom we all worship and make +offerings to in one form or another! Why, he never goes where he should; +that is, you may hang him a dome, with golden draperies, stud the walls +with pearls and rubies, put a divinity there, beautiful as the fabled +houris, and robed in eastern magnificence, with discretion's self to +open the portal and invite his entrance; still, he goes not in. A +humming-bird around a rose has caught his vagrant eye, and he is off to +follow its roamings from flower to flower. Was ever such an improvident, +self-willed creature as this boy, Cupid? +</p> + + + + +<p class="chapter"> +CHAPTER X. +</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>"It is an era strange, yet sweet,</p> +<p class="i2">Which every woman's heart hath known,</p> +<p>When first her bosom learns to beat</p> +<p class="i2">To the soft music of a tone;</p> +<p>That era, when she first begins</p> +<p class="i2">To know what love alone can teach,</p> +<p>That there are hidden depths within</p> +<p class="i2">Which friendship never yet could reach."</p></div></div><br> + + +<p> +Annie Evalyn was alone in her room, a second time, sitting down to +answer her friend Netta's letter. It was the first leisure she had known +in several weeks, and she would hardly have commanded it now, but that +Sheldon was gone to conclude an extensive land contract, into which he +was entering with Lawrence Hardin; allured by flattering representations +of the immense emolument sure to result from these speculations, when +emigration should raise to an untold value the worth of those extensive +tracts, then lying wild and uncultivated through those western +countries. +</p> + +<p> +Dr. Prague had also advised him to the course, regarding it as the +easiest method of keeping good the fortune of Sheldon, whose choice of +literature as a profession tended rather to diminish than increase his +coffers. And so he embarked his all with Hardin; and all thought him +sure to succeed in the enterprise, with so far-seeing and judicious a +partner to counsel and direct. +</p> + +<p> +We return to Annie. She had opened her portfolio, and placed before her +a pure, virgin page. Twirling the enamelled top from her inkstand, and +fastening a gold pen to a pearl-wrought handle, she commenced her task. +</p> + +<div class="blockquote"> +<p> +"I scarcely know what to say, dear Netta; there are so many thoughts +crowded on my brain for utterance, that I can scarcely decide what +it is best to say, and what leave unsaid. One thing I feel sure of, +that whatever is imparted in confidence, will remain safe in your +trusty bosom; and O, how blessed am I, in the possession of such a +friend! Would you were here beside me this evening, your arm clasped +tenderly about my neck, your dear, earnest eyes looking in mine. +But, alas! we are far asunder. Your sweet letter brought many vivid +pictures before my mind of the happy hours passed in that study +room, and, still further back, that childhood in the rocky cottage +of Scraggiewood. Tell aunty, I still love to call her as in my +childish days, and hope the time is not very far distant when I may +run into her arms for a hearty kissing. +</p> + +<p> +"But, Netta, I know you are all eagerness to hear what I'm doing +here; how I speed on my aspiring way, and what is my progress toward +the temple of fame it was e'er my proudest wish to enter. +</p> + +<p> +"Alas, Netta! I'm ashamed to say the indefatigable Annie Evalyn has +relapsed her energies, has faltered in her pursuit of glory, and +surrendered herself to the enjoyment of the passing hour. And yet I +was never so happy as now; no, never in my life. To love and to be +loved; dear sis, do you know what it is? If not, no words of mine +can tell you. Frank Sheldon has never told me his heart was mine, +but it is a poor love that needs words to express it, I fancy. He is +rich, handsome and honored; yet it is not for these I love him, but +because his tastes and feelings are in unison with mine. +</p> + +<p> +"But, Netta, I have to endure some ill will, and cold looks, which +detract from my happiness. A share of that experience aunty declared +'better than books,' has been taught my hopeful nature, and often do +I think of your kind father's tender admonitions. +</p> + +<p> +"Adieu, dearest; I've told my tale in brief. I need not say, guard +it well. +</p> + +<p> +"You have seen some of my simple productions in the magazines, and +are pleased to think well of them, for which I thank you kindly. I'm +writing none at present. With love to all, I am, +</p> + +<p> +"Truly, +</p> + +<p> +"<span class="sc">Annie</span>." +</p></div> + +<p> +The letter was folded and directed as she heard a voice in the hall +calling her name. It was Sheldon's; and a bright smile irradiated her +features, as, throwing aside the writing materials, she prepared to go +down. He met her on the stairs. +</p> + +<p> +"I couldn't find you anywhere," he said, "and the parlors were dark and +cold as midnight. Where have you been and how occupied all the while +I've been away winding up that tiresome contract with Hardin?" +</p> + +<p> +"In my room, writing a letter to a friend," she answered, with a +pleasant smile, as he was leading her through the several parlors, to +fix on one exactly suited to his taste. +</p> + +<p> +"Writing?" said he, reproachfully; "O, Annie!" +</p> + +<p> +"Why, what of that?" she asked. +</p> + +<p> +"O, nothing, I suppose; but I can't endure to think you can sit down, +cold and calm, when I'm away, and indite your thoughts on paper. I can +neither read, write, nor think, without you, Annie." +</p> + +<p> +She blushed at these words. +</p> + +<p> +"Come," he continued, drawing her close to his side; "I need not tell +you I love you, Annie, for that you know already; but you can render me +very happy, by speaking one little word in answer to a question I want +to ask." +</p> + +<p> +Still blushing and turning away her eyes, and he gazing so eloquently +upon her downcast features. +</p> + +<p> +"Will you speak it, Annie?" +</p> + +<p> +"Let me hear the question," she said. +</p> + +<p> +He inclined his head and whispered in her ear. She placed her hand in +his, and he looked most happily answered as he wound his arm round her +waist and pressed the little hand close to his heart. +</p> + +<p> +There was a band of wandering musicians playing in the street, and he +led her to the casement. She leaned lightly against his shoulder, and +thus they stood there listening to the music. It was rough enough, and +could hardly have pleased at any other time; but it sounded like the +symphonies of angels to them now. O, what divine strains! But the melody +was all in their own hearts. The screeching wheels of a dirt cart would +have failed to strike a dissonance upon their ears; for all nature +rolled on in linked harmony to them; they fancied they were very near +heaven, and so they were; they thought they could not be much happier if +they were really there, and it is doubtful if they could. +</p> + +<p> +Thus wrapped in their new-found happiness, let us leave with prophetic +good-night. +</p> + + + + +<p class="chapter"> +CHAPTER XI. +</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>"So fails, so languishes, grows dim and dies,</p> +<p>All that this world is proud of. From their spheres</p> +<p>The stars of human glory are cast down.</p> +<p>Perish the roses and the flowers of kings,</p> +<p>Princes and emperors, and the crowns and palms</p> +<p>Of all the mighty, withered and consumed.</p> +<p>Nor is power long given to lowliest innocence</p> +<p>Long to protect her own."</p></div></div><br> + + +<p> +"Hardin, don't you remember the old fortune-telling hag that used to +keep office in a heap of rocks in that deuced rough hole called +Scraggiewood?" asked a gay, reckless-looking young man, as he lighted a +cigar, and settled himself in a comfortable armchair with feet elevated +on the fender. +</p> + +<p> +"Indeed I do," responded Hardin, quickly. "You and I made her a visit +one evening, you know, and she drew forth rather ominous fortunes for +both of us from her teapot of destiny. Ha, ha! what was it the hag told +me, Sumpter?" +</p> + +<p> +"That you would be a wicked fellow, marry a lovely woman, who wouldn't +care a picayune for you, and live after you wished you were dead, I +believe, or something to that import, wasn't it?" +</p> + +<p> +"Well, I reckon 'twas some talk of this sort; but what brought this +incident to your mind now, Jack?" +</p> + +<p> +"It was recalled by sight of that young lady at your father-in-law's. +Don't you remember, that night we were at the rock den in Scraggiewood, +there was a child, a little girl, sleeping on a pallet in the room?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, perfectly." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, that child and this young lady are one and the same." +</p> + +<p> +"It cannot be!" exclaimed Hardin, quickly. +</p> + +<p> +"It is so, I'm positive. But stop; what is this girl's name?" +</p> + +<p> +"Annie Evalyn." +</p> + +<p> +"Exactly. I asked the old crone that night what was her child's name, +and she told me the one you have just repeated." +</p> + +<p> +"Is it possible?" ejaculated Hardin in a ruminating manner. +</p> + +<p> +"It is easy to convince your doubts. Just engage her in conversation and +allude to her early life. She'll betray herself, my word for it. Besides +I've heard of her since you left the east. She had a beau there at +Scraggiewood, one George Wild; and after picking up some education at a +country parson's, came west as governess in a wealthy family. These +several things have recurred to my memory since beholding her at Dr. +Prague's last evening; for, depend upon it, this fine lady, who +captivates all hearts, is the old Scraggiewood witch's daughter." +</p> + +<p> +After this speech from Sumpter a silence ensued. Hardin was revolving in +his mind whether to divulge his plan of revenge to his companion, and +enlist him as a co-worker to assist in the completion of his schemes. He +saw this accidental information would aid in furthering his plans. How +should he use it? He rose and paced the floor. +</p> + +<p> +"Jack," he said at length, giving him a slap on the shoulder, "can I +trust you?" +</p> + +<p> +"Always, Hardin," was the ready response. "I am yours to command." +</p> + +<p> +Another pause, and Hardin continued to pace the floor with nervous, +uneven steps. At length, as he passed the large, oval window, he caught +a glimpse of his wife walking in the conservatory. Approaching, he +tapped slightly on the glass to arrest her attention. She turned, and a +frown gathered on her features as she met his earnest, affectionate +gaze. O, Marion! why couldn't you have smiled then? What might not one +genial look from your sweet eyes have averted? +</p> + +<p> +Hardin turned away, his heart cold and callous. +</p> + +<p> +"Fool am I to hesitate!" he muttered; "who cares for me, and whom should +I care for?" +</p> + +<p> +Drawing a chair close to Sumpter's, they conferred in whispers for the +space of an hour. Then both arose. +</p> + +<p> +"Now make yourself presentable, Jack," said Hardin, "and we'll proceed +forthwith to put our scheme afoot." +</p> + +<p> +"I shall be ready in due season," was the answer. +</p> + +<p> +There was a select company assembled at Dr. Prague's mansion, enjoying +the evening in music and conversation. Annie had just sung a song that +elicited much applause, and Sheldon had contrived to draw her aside to +whisper some word of tenderness in her ear. +</p> + +<p> +"Frank," said she, "I feel strangely to-night." +</p> + +<p> +"Why, Annie, are you not happy?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, but I tremble; I'm frightened. I feel as if some awful danger were +impending." +</p> + +<p> +As she Spoke thus, the door opened, and Esq. Hardin, and his friend, Mr. +Sumpter, were announced. They mingled with the company and soon +approached the group in which Sheldon and Annie had chosen a place. +Hardin presented his friend to the several ladies and gentlemen +composing the circle, and passed on, leaving Sumpter sitting opposite +Annie. Glancing casually toward him, she found his gaze riveted on her +face. +</p> + +<p> +"May I ask, miss," he said, "if you are not from the eastern country?" +</p> + +<p> +She replied in the affirmative. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, I thought I could not be so much mistaken. How are you contented +away out here?" +</p> + +<p> +"Very well, sir," she answered. +</p> + +<p> +"Ay, indeed. I've heard say old loves were hard to forget; but I suppose +new ones will obliterate them if anything will." +</p> + +<p> +By this time the attention of the group was drawn to them. +</p> + +<p> +"Do you ever hear from your old Aunt Patty, now?" he continued, in the +same bold, familiar manner. +</p> + +<p> +Annie was startled to hear these words from one who was a stranger to +her; but as so many eyes were on them, she thought best to answer +courteously, and said, "I do sir, frequently." +</p> + +<p> +"Does she live there in the old rock heap at Scraggiewood, and tell +fortunes and bewitch sitting hens yet?" +</p> + +<p> +"Sir!" exclaimed Sheldon, "how dare you thus insult a lady in company?" +</p> + +<p> +"O, be cool, my good fellow! I never yet heard it was an insult to +inquire after one's honest relations, and I've done nothing more, as +this lady I'm sure will admit. I can perhaps give you some information +respecting your former lover, George Wild, Miss Evalyn," he continued; +"he is good and true yet." +</p> + +<p> +A scream from Annie arrested his words. She had fainted. Sheldon bore +her from the room amidst a buzz of voices, in which Sumpter's was +loudest, declaring he "did not mean to embarrass the young lady. He did +not know but what they were all acquainted with her early history." +</p> + +<p> +Sheldon did not rejoin the company, and during the remainder of the +evening Sumpter disseminated an exaggerated account of Annie's low birth +and disgraceful parentage among the guests. The tale found too many +willing ears; and Annie was pronounced a vile, artful deceiver, by those +who envied her talents and beauty. +</p> + + + + +<p class="chapter"> +CHAPTER XII. +</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>"Alas, the joys that fortune brings</p> +<p class="i2">Are trifling and decay!</p> +<p>And those who prize the paltry things,</p> +<p class="i2">More trifling still than they.</p> +<p>And what is friendship but a name,</p> +<p class="i2">A charm that lulls to sleep;</p> +<p>A shade that follows wealth and fame,</p> +<p class="i2">But leaves the wretch to weep?"</p></div></div><br> + + +<p> +When Annie Evalyn recovered consciousness, Sheldon was bending over her, +bathing her temples with cologne. As the memory of the recent scene +rushed over her, her cheeks flushed, and she glanced timidly in his +face. It was cold—stern, she fancied. +</p> + +<p> +"Annie," said he, in a measured tone, "you are better now. I will leave +you for to-night, and to-morrow shall hope for an explanation of what, I +must confess, seems strange and mysterious to me at present. +Good-night!" and he turned to leave the room. +</p> + +<p> +"Good-night!" she faintly articulated, her eyes following his retreating +figure till the door closed and excluded him from view. "Yes, and a long +good-night too, Frank Sheldon!" she continued, when she was alone; "if +you can thus coldly turn from me,—thus lightly suspect me of artifice +and deceit. O, my God, what a blow! and to fall at such a moment, when I +believed myself almost at the pinnacle of happiness! Surely, the +arch-fiend directed the hand. Such words to be spoken in a fashionable +circle; and they'll all accredit it, for they have,—Heaven knows +why!—long been seeking something to my dispraise. And besides, I cannot +contradict the man's words, for are they not too true? and yet, O must I +be blamed for my humble parentage? O aunty, aunty, I'll not cast a +single reflection! You say you've left off fortune-telling for <i>my</i> +sake—but it is too late now; and perhaps you'll need resort to it again +to support your poor, unfortunate Annie. I'm going to you, aunty; the +rough roof of old Scraggiewood will be above me in a few weeks. Would I +had never wandered from beneath its homely shelter! Truly, the world +<i>is</i> a hard, cold place, aunty, as you forewarned; but I could not +believe it then." +</p> + +<p> +Annie rose and proceeded mechanically to place a few necessary articles +of clothing in a small satchel; this done, she sat down by the window to +wait till all was quiet below. The rich clothing, the wages and presents +she had received during her two years' residence beneath that roof,—she +would leave them all behind; they were bestowed when she was deemed a +worthy object, and <i>now</i> they would consider it was a vile, artful +deceiver that had sought to ingratiate herself into their favor to +accomplish her own low, selfish designs. She was a fool for going abroad +in the great world; a fool to think she could ever become respected and +loved. <i>Love!</i> There was no such thing! Had not Frank Sheldon, +thirty-six hours after he vowed to love her forever, turned coldly away +at a moment when she most needed his comforting attentions? And, as she +thus thought, a groan of agony escaped her breast. There came a light +tap on the door, and Kate entered hurriedly. +</p> + +<p> +"O, Annie, Annie!" she exclaimed, embracing the suffering girl warmly, +"I don't believe a word that man said, nor does father either. He says +if you are Satan's daughter, you are better and prettier, and wiser, +than the best of them. As for Frank, he has not spoken since the company +left, and I believe he is struck dumb. I was going to follow him when he +brought you out, but mother prevented me." +</p> + +<p> +"She is enraged at me, of course," said Annie. +</p> + +<p> +"O, she is hasty, you know!" returned Kate. "I dare say all will be +right in a day or two; so dry your eyes and go to sleep, and wake up as +merry as if that ugly Mr. Sumpter had never come here with his impudent +stories. For my part, I wonder Lawrence should bring such a monster into +genteel society;" and with a kiss they parted. +</p> + +<p> +Annie sat motionless another hour, and then, cautiously opening the +door, listened breathlessly a few moments. All was still; and, taking +her satchel, she glided noiselessly down the stairs and into the street. +Her heart sank within her as the cold wind struck her cheek; but she +moved rapidly forward, eager to place a distance between her and the +scene of her abasement. Soon she was on the broad, rough prairie road, +over which a waning moon cast pale, sickly beams. By daylight she +reached a settler's cabin, and learned that a stage-coach would pass +there in a few moments, bound eastward. She requested the privilege of +waiting its arrival, which was readily granted, and also such +refreshments placed before her as the cabin afforded; but she could not +eat. The coach soon appeared, and she rejoiced to find herself the only +passenger. The door was closed, and the hard, jolting vehicle rumbled on +its way. And here was Annie Evalyn, the beautiful, the gifted, the +admired Annie Evalyn of yesterday, flying like a guilty outcast from the +scenes amid which she had been so happy. +</p> + +<p> +Great was the surprise at Dr. Prague's mansion, on the following +morning, when Annie's flight became known. No token was left by which a +clue to her course might be discovered. Sheldon carried himself like a +crazy one. The old doctor bustled about, and said he would search the +world over to bring her back. Kate cried, and the children loudly +bewailed the loss of their dear governess. Mrs. Prague seemed the only +calm and rational one in the household; she declared herself glad to get +rid of the baggage, and considered her flight proof positive of her +guilt. +</p> + +<p> +This view seemed rather plausible certainly. If innocent, why did she +not remain and boldly refute the tale Sumpter had told? +</p> + +<p> +When the news of her flight was made known to Esquire Hardin, he laughed +heartily, and called up Sumpter to join him. The latter expressed +himself "sorry if he had unwittingly been the cause of an unpleasant +occurrence in Dr. Prague's family." +</p> + +<p> +"What, the deuce!" said Hardin, "do you suppose they wish to harbor a +young witch?" +</p> + +<p> +"Why, no,—but this gentleman, Mr. Sheldon." +</p> + +<p> +"Give yourself no uneasiness in regard to me, sir!" said Sheldon, +sternly. "I will manage and control my own affairs." +</p> + +<p> +"Bravely spoken, Frank!" remarked Hardin, "Now let us adjourn to the +dinner-saloon and drink a merry bout over fortunate denouement." +</p> + + + + +<p class="chapter"> +CHAPTER XIII. +</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2">"It was a bitter pain</p> +<p class="i2">That pierced her gentle heart;</p> +<p class="i2">For barbed by malice was the dart,</p> +<p class="i2">And sped by treachery's deadliest art,</p> +<p class="i2">The shaft ne'er sped in vain."</p></div></div><br> + + +<p> +The wild winds wailed wofully over the lonesome prairie, smiting sadly +upon poor Annie's heavy heart as she sat in the hard, jolting coach, +which, owing to the bad state of the roads, made but sorry progress. It +was already dark, and the driver said they had yet ten miles to ride in +order to reach the nearest post town. They entered a dense timber land, +and the wheels struck deep into a loose, gravelly sand, so the poor +horses could scarcely drag on at a slow walk. The coachman hallooed and +cracked his whip about their ears, but all to no effect; the animals +were worn down by a hard day's travel; and Annie, annoyed by his +boisterous vociferations, at last put her head out the window and begged +him not to beat the jaded animals, but let them proceed at their own +pace. +</p> + +<p> +"All one to me, miss," was the answer; "did it to please you; thought +you mought be a hungry, or mebbe sort o' tired, a settin' in there all +alone so. Whoa, Johnny! take it easy since it is the lady's wish. We +shall be just as well off a hundred years hence, I dare say, and supper +will be sweeter, the longer delayed." +</p> + +<p> +With this philosophical reflection, he relapsed into silence, and for +two hours they continued to drag through the heavy sand, with nothing to +relieve the monotony, save the shrill bark of the wolf, far in the deep +forest, answered by the deep growl of the bear, or piercing cry of the +ferocious catamount. +</p> + +<p> +Annie shivered with nervous terror at these wild, savage sounds; and +when at last, as they reached the open prairie, and struck a harder +bottom, the horses mended their paces, she felt sensibly relieved. At +length they entered a small, new town, and drew up before a large, +awkward building. The steps were lowered and Annie alighted, and soon +found herself in a long, dingy apartment, with a bright pine-wood fire +blazing and crackling in a huge, yawning fire-place at its farthest +extremity. She was chilled, and sat down before the glowing hearth to +warm her benumbed fingers. Presently a tall woman, in a short-sleeved +frock and large deer-skin moccasins, strode into the room, and with a +deep, ungainly courtesy asked, "What the lady would be thinking to take +for a bit of supper?" +</p> + +<p> +Annie answered she would take a biscuit and cup of tea, if she pleased, +and then retire to her apartment, as she was much fatigued. +</p> + +<p> +"And won't you have a chunk o' venison, or cold 'possum, to make your +biscuit relish, miss?" asked the woman. +</p> + +<p> +"No, I thank you," said Annie; "I don't feel much hungry to-night." +</p> + +<p> +"Why, I reckoned you must be well-nigh starved, a ridin' all day long, +and nothing to lay your jaws to; but, howsomever, you know your own +wants best." +</p> + +<p> +The woman went out, and soon returned with Annie's supper spread on a +pine board. Annie could hardly repress a smile at sight of the novel +tea-table. Her meal was quickly despatched, and she again signified her +wish to retire. It was a rough, dismal apartment into which she was +ushered, but, tired and jaded, she threw herself on the hard couch, and, +despite the trouble at her heart, slept soundly till morning. +</p> + +<p> +On rising, her first thought was to examine her little stock of money, +and she found it amounted to only seventeen dollars and a half, out of +which she must pay her coach and tavern fare. It was evident that she +must seek some employment to assist in defraying her travelling +expenses. The question was, whether she should remain where she was, or +go on as far as her scanty means would carry her. She went out to make +some inquiries of the woman who had waited on her the night previous. +</p> + +<p> +"Get some work to do, miss!" said she in a tone of surprise. "What can +you do? Can you cut fodder, or cradle rye, or catch 'possums?" +</p> + +<p> +Annie smiled, and said, "No, but I can teach school, do sewing, or +housework." +</p> + +<p> +"Wall, I don't know; you look a mighty fine lady to be asking for work; +but then it is none o' my business to be pryin' into other folks' +concerns. We are new settlers here, and have to get along as close as we +can. I don't reckon you'll find anybody rich enough to hire ye in these +diggins. You'll do better along further east, where folks are richer and +more 'fined." +</p> + +<p> +Matters looked unpromising, and Annie concluded to follow the woman's +suggestion, and travel on as far as the small funds would carry her. But +in the two years she had been at the west, the facilities for travelling +had improved, and prices were also reduced, so that her little purse +carried her much further on her route than she had expected. When it +finally gave out, she with great joy found she was but fifty miles from +her destination, and with a courageous heart resolved to perform the +remainder of the journey on foot. +</p> + +<p> +Accordingly, she set forward. The weather was fine, and she did not +doubt her ability to accomplish the distance in two days, at farthest. +Every mile passed inspired her with fresh courage, for was she not so +much nearer a heart that loved her? O, how she longed to be clasped to +that warm, beating bosom, and weep her sorrows forth to one she knew +would pity, sympathize, and strive to heal! +</p> + + + + +<p class="chapter"> +CHAPTER XIV. +</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>"Do you come with the heart of your childhood back,</p> +<p class="i2">The free, the pure, the kind?</p> +<p>Thus murmured the trees in the homeward track,</p> +<p class="i2">As they played at the sport of the wind."</p></div></div><br> + + +<p> +The autumn evening stole calmly, sweetly on. Again October's harvest +moon rode through the liquid ether, and poured her silvery beams over +the wild, old forest of Scraggiewood, as we saw it long ago when Annie +Evalyn's years were calm and golden-hued as Luna's gentle rays. She was +coming now to the low, cottage home. With weary, languid step, she +threaded the old, familiar path, and it seemed to have grown rougher, +and the forest looked wilder and darker than in the days gone by. Poor +Annie! the darkness and gloom were in thy weary, world-tossed heart. +That heart beat wildly as she drew nearer the wished-for spot. What if +she should see no light gleaming through the aperture in the rocky +walls? What if the door should be fallen away, and no aunty there to +welcome the wanderer's return? She quickened her pace, and a few moments +banished all fears. The cottage came in view, and a bright light +streamed through the rough-cut window. Now Annie clasped her hands, and +thanked God that her journey was well-nigh ended. She saw her aunt +bending over the embers on the hearth, as she paused a moment on the +threshold. Then, entering softly, she stole to the side of the old lady, +and, passing an arm round her neck, whispered in a low, trembling tone: +"Here's Annie, come home to love and you, dear aunty." +</p> + +<p> +The old woman sprang so suddenly from her kneeling posture as nearly to +throw the slender form upon the floor, and gazed wildly in the speaker's +face. +</p> + +<p> +"Why aunty, don't you know me?" +</p> + +<p> +"Bless me, it is her voice! but how could she rise up here on my +hearth-stone to-night, like a witch or fairy?" +</p> + +<p> +"No, aunty; I am no witch or fairy that has risen on your hearth. I +walked all the way through the dim old forest to reach you, and it looks +just as it used to, only darker and more frightful." +</p> + +<p> +"Come here, darling, 'tis you! I know that voice. O how many times I've +dreamed I heard it in the long, lonesome nights!" and she wept, laughed, +and kissed her recovered child in a perfect abandonment of joy. "And so +you have come home at last to see your old aunty? I've had awful +feelings about you lately, hinney, and boding dreams; and ofttimes I've +been sorry I let you go into the evil world; 'for if it should use her +hard, would it not break both our hearts?' I said to myself. 'But, then, +Annie is so pretty and good, and has got so much book-learnin' and so +many accomplishments,' something would say. 'Ay, that's the mischief of +it. Such things always make bad folks envy those that possess them, and +Annie is so tender-hearted and shrinking, I'm afeard, I'm afeard for +her.'" +</p> + +<p> +Annie sunk her head on her aunt's shoulder while she was speaking thus, +and the tears, she had been striving to suppress since her entrance, +began to roll over her cheeks thick and fast. The excitement and anxiety +of the journey had in a measure diverted her mind from the events which +caused it; but now that she had gained the wished-for haven, her aunty's +words brought the past before her vision; that mortifying +humiliation—all she had enjoyed, all she had hoped for, and O, all she +had lost!—rushed upon her recollection, and she sobbed aloud. +</p> + +<p> +"O, mercy, mercy, it is as I feared!" exclaimed the old woman, in an +agonized tone; "something has hurt my darling, and now I mark how pale +and thin she is grown. Annie, Annie, tell your aunty what's the matter." +</p> + +<p> +Annie made a strong effort to calm her emotion. +</p> + +<p> +"I am fatigued and overcome," she said. +</p> + +<p> +"Ah! it is something more than that, child—I can tell; but you shall +rest till to-morrow. I'll make you a nice cup of tea, and then you shall +lie in your little cot-bed once more. I've always kept it dressed white +and clean, and often been in there nights before I laid my old bones +down to rest, and wished I could see my darling there, breathing long +and sweet, as she used to, in happy dreams." +</p> + +<p> +Annie was glad to retire, for she was indeed fatigued. Her aunt tucked +the counterpane snugly around her, and hung a shawl before the window, +"for hinney looked too pale and slender to bear the cold air now," she +said. Then she insisted on sitting by the cot till her darling slept; +but Annie begged she would not. +</p> + +<p> +"Go to bed, aunty, and get a good sleep, so as to be rested and fresh to +hear a long tale of my adventures to-morrow," and the kind old soul, +after kissing the white brow, bade Annie good-night, and sought her +pillow. +</p> + +<p> +It was long ere Annie slept, and when at last she did so, hideous shapes +and direful omens floated through her dreams. Once she awoke, when all +was dark and still, to find a burning fever on her cheek, and dull, +throbbing pain in her temples. At peep of dawn the old woman rose and +stole into the apartment. She wanted to see her little pet sleeping in +her cot-bed, as she used to years before. There she lay, her arms thrown +above her head as when a child, and the rich chestnut curls lying in +dark relief on the snowy pillow. But the deep, sweet respirations, and +the healthful glow of childhood were not there. A blue circle surrounded +the closed lids, and a fever-flush burned in the centre of each cheek. +The aunt saw her darling was ill. She took one thin, hot hand in hers, +and felt the pulse fluttering fast and wild. The sleeper woke and +started up, turning her eyes quickly round the apartment. +</p> + +<p> +"Don't you know where you are, Annie?" asked the aunt. "This is your old +room at Scraggiewood, and I'm your aunty." +</p> + +<p> +"O, yes! I remember now; but I think I'm sick, my poor head aches and +throbs so badly. You used to cure all my pains, aunty." +</p> + +<p> +"I hope I can cure you now, hinney. I'll go and prepare you a cooling +drink of herbs. You must be very quiet, and I trust you will be well in +a few days." +</p> + +<p> +Annie submitted patiently. A week passed by ere she was able to make her +aunt fully acquainted with her woful tale. The poor woman seemed as much +afflicted as Annie, but she strove by every means in her power to soothe +and comfort the suffering heart. Netta Gray had been married to George +Wild a few weeks before her return, and was now absent on a visiting +tour, and Annie's health continued feeble. It could hardly be otherwise +with a mind so heavy and depressed. For several months she remained in +seclusion at the lowly cot in Scraggiewood. +</p> + + + + +<p class="chapter"> +CHAPTER XV. +</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>"For the weak heart that vainly yearned</p> +<p class="i2">For human love its life to cheer,</p> +<p>Baffled and bleeding has returned,</p> +<p class="i2">To stifle down its crying here."</p></div></div> + +<hr class="short"> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>"Thou shalt go forth in prouder might</p> +<p class="i2">And firmer strength e'er long."</p></div></div><br> + + +<p> +Up to the clear blue sky, when the sun was gone down on the silent +earth, clad in the pure white snow-mantle, and away over the tops of the +forest-pines, at the diamond stars hung in the far-off heaven, gazed +Annie Evalyn through that long, dreary winter, from the window of that +rude hut in the solitary depths of Scraggiewood. How she mourned o'er +her shattered idols, all fallen and wasted on their shrines! What a blow +had been dealt her sensitive nature! "O, it was so bitter cruel!" she +thought; "and what had she done that she should suffer thus?" +</p> + +<p> +In vain her aunt tried to soothe and solace, by telling her time would +bring better hopes. Parson Grey would sometimes drop in of a Saturday +evening to coax and encourage his former pupil, and bring some nice +tit-bit to tempt Annie's delicate relish. +</p> + +<p> +"You will regain your health and spirits when the spring opens, my +child," he would say. "Netta will come home, and we shall have you over +to the Parsonage, and all will seem like old times again. Then you must +resume that pen of yours, Annie, and let it write down those speaking +thoughts that lie in your inventive brain. You know my old doctrine; it +is a glorious thing to do good, and you can exert a happy and extensive +influence upon society. I know you will not abuse the noble faculties +given you by the great Creator." +</p> + +<p> +"Ah, he does not know all!" Annie would think. "I once was vain enough +to suppose I possessed faculties and powers to act a brave part in life; +but they've been bruised and broken in the very outset. I've no energy, +no aspirations; because there's nothing in the future to beckon me on. +Wherever I turn is desolation; and I despise my weakness as much as I +lament my misfortune. But I'll no more of a world that has dealt me my +death-blow. Here, in this solitude of nature, let me die and sink to +oblivion." +</p> + +<p> +Thus she ruminated, while the shadowy wintry days sped on; and reason, +weak and powerless in the headlong tide of passion that swept and swayed +in her breast, was buffeted and submerged in the furious waves; and yet, +when the storm had spent its fury, should it not arise clear and +brilliant, and over the subsiding tumult be heard to utter a calm, proud +jubilate of triumph and redemption? +</p> + +<p> +Spring came at last. The snows disappeared; buds swelled on the tall +trees, and burst forth into canopies of leafy-green, and the feathered +songsters came hieing from southern bowers, with wings of light and +songs of gladness. Annie began to brighten; slowly, and almost +imperceptibly at first, and without her own knowledge or consent. Those +faculties she had fancied killed were only stunned. +</p> + +<p> +When she found herself, one sunny April day, at her little, rude table, +inditing her beautiful thoughts on paper, she grew angry at her folly, +as she termed it, and tore the sheet. "And was she again seeking what +had once blasted her happiness? Let the desolation of the past deter her +from all intercourse with the heartless world again." +</p> + +<p> +But the sunny gleams from the beauty-fraught robes of the spring-queen +had fallen on the chilled fountains, and they began to melt and flow +again. And their music <i>would</i> be heard. As the brook down in the +forest seemed to send sweeter, more joyous echoings on the ear after its +winter sleep, so Annie's soul poured softer, holier strains of melody +from its deep well-spring of chastened, purified feeling. Yet the +struggle was not all over. Some tears, some regrets, some rebellious +thoughts, yet lingered. The wildest storm oft passes the soonest by; but +traces of its effects may remain to the end of time. +</p> + +<p> +Netta returned from her travels, and the two friends, so long parted, +sat together in the old study again, and with clasped hands poured out +their hearts to each other. +</p> + +<p> +Annie could not avoid saying, "My life-happiness is wrecked, Netta!" as +she completed a rehearsal of her misfortunes, "O, that I had been less +confident and aspiring! Then I had not suffered thus." +</p> + +<p> +"Do not speak thus, Annie!" returned Netta, tenderly. "Your happiness is +not lost. With a mind so brilliant as yours, you must not yield to +despondency. I will do all in my power to render your life pleasant, and +so will George. He says your influence made him all he is. You rebuked +his slothful habits and urged him to activity. He felt the truth of your +words, though it wounded him deeply to have them come from you. I know +all, Annie. George loved you once, but I've forgiven him, and love you +all the better for having made me so good a husband." Here Netta laughed +and kissed her friend's cheek. +</p> + +<p> +Annie returned the caress. "If I've unwittingly done you any good, +Netta," she said, "it is no greater pleasure to have done it than to +hear it acknowledged so prettily." +</p> + +<p> +"But don't you think it very singular you have never received your +property from Dr. Prague?" asked Netta, turning the conversation back to +her friend's affairs. "I should have thought it but common honesty in +them to have forwarded your clothes and wages." +</p> + +<p> +"O, why should they trouble themselves to give a thought to so vile and +artful a wretch?" responded Annie, bitterly. +</p> + +<p> +"There, there, Annie, hush!" said Netta. "Vengeance will overtake them +for thus treating worth and innocence. And Sheldon, have you never heard +from him?" +</p> + +<p> +"Never!" answered Annie, and a tear fell as she spoke. +</p> + +<p> +"Not once!" said Netta. "He who could thus shamefully neglect one, so +lovely and beautiful, is not worthy of one precious drop from these +eyes." +</p> + +<p> +"And yet he seemed so noble and good, it is hard to cast blame on his +conduct. O, Netta, I cannot forget him!" she exclaimed, bursting into +tears. +</p> + +<p> +Ah, the love was there yet!—a little chastened and subdued, yet wanting +but a kindly touch to rouse it to all its early strength and power. A +bitter chastisement had tamed, but not conquered or expelled, the coy +truant from her breast. Should it aye sleep on, or one day know an +awakening? +</p> + + + + +<p class="chapter"> +CHAPTER XVI. +</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>"Go on, go on: you think me quite a fool;</p> +<p>Woman, my eyes are open."</p></div></div><br> + + +<p> +In their sumptuous drawing-room, before a sparkling grate, sat Dr. +Prague and his amiable lady, in genial after-dinner mood; he burly, and +easy-natured, enjoying his oranges; she, majestic and oratorical in her +rustling brocades. +</p> + +<p> +"Doctor," said she, after a brief silence, "I wish to call your +attention to an important subject." +</p> + +<p> +"Ah! what may it be?" he inquired, in a careless tone. +</p> + +<p> +"Why, our Catherine's approaching union with Mr. Sumpter." +</p> + +<p> +"Is the girl going to marry Sumpter? I don't like it, madam, I don't +like it;" and the usually placid doctor displayed considerable +impatience in his tone and manner. +</p> + +<p> +"Why not? he is a wealthy, accomplished gentleman." +</p> + +<p> +"Humph! a conceited, tricksy villain, you mean." +</p> + +<p> +"Dr. Prague, is he not the friend and partner of my son-in-law, Esq. +Hardin?" +</p> + +<p> +"What of it?" +</p> + +<p> +"Why, a good deal of it, I should say. Is not Esq. Hardin one of the +first men in the city? I made the match between him and Marion, and I'm +proud of the alliance. You cannot say that it was not a wise and +judicious one." +</p> + +<p> +"Whew! I don't know. Marion as melancholy as a mummy, and a child that +shrieks in terror whenever its father approaches. Perhaps a wise match, +but far enough from a happy one, I should say." +</p> + +<p> +"The world calls it a nice match." +</p> + +<p> +"Indeed." +</p> + +<p> +At this point of the conversation Kate entered the room. +</p> + +<p> +"Come hither, child," said her father; "do you love this Mr. Sumpter?" +</p> + +<p> +"Why, no, father. I've never been able to conquer my aversion toward +him, since he vilified Annie's character, and caused her flight," said +she, wondering at her father's question. +</p> + +<p> +"Then you do not wish to marry him?" +</p> + +<p> +"Heavens! no." +</p> + +<p> +"All right then. I'll see that you don't. Now run away, child." +</p> + +<p> +"Dr. Prague, I'm astonished at you," exclaimed Mrs. Prague, in her most +towering style, as the door closed after Kate, "thus to pamper to the +follies of your offspring. Young people never know what is for their +interest. They should be held in perfect subjection to their parents' +wishes, and taught to obey their slightest commands." +</p> + +<p> +"Very pretty, Mrs. Prague," remarked the doctor, carelessly, as his wife +paused for breath. +</p> + +<p> +Whether he alluded to her logic or her face, we cannot say. +</p> + +<p> +"Had Sheldon been discreet and saved his fortune," she resumed, "he +would have been the proper man for our Catherine." +</p> + +<p> +"But he blundered and fell in love with Annie Evalyn." +</p> + +<p> +"Faugh! don't mention that minx to me," said Mrs. Prague, with a sneer; +"but it must be confessed, Sheldon has very limited knowledge of +business, or he might have saved a part of his fortune at least. My +son-in-law, Esq. Hardin, by his alacrity and far-seeing judgment, +secured himself from material loss in the great land crash." +</p> + +<p> +"Humph! quite as likely by his cunning and artful machinations." +</p> + +<p> +"Dr. Prague, I'm astonished to hear you detract from the worth and +honesty of your son-in-law, even in our private conversation." +</p> + +<p> +"I may repeat here what I've of late heard broached in public places, +that Hardin involved Sheldon in the speculations with the intention to +effect his ruin." +</p> + +<p> +"Such groundless insinuations are worthy their originators," said Mrs. +Prague, in an angry, vehement tone. +</p> + +<p> +"May be time will render us all wiser than we are now, madam." +</p> + +<p> +"I hope it will," she answered, significantly, as with a lofty air she +rose from the luxurious sofa, and remarked, "I will now go down to +Marion's, and pass an hour in conversation with my son-in-law." +</p> + +<p> +"Do so, madam," said the doctor, "and as you pass the office door, send +Kate up here with my cigar-case, if you please. It lies on the table +there." +</p> + +<p> +And the majestic Mrs. Dr. Prague rustled her brocades into the private +parlor of her daughter Marion, just as the latter was hushing the +shrieks of a chubby little boy, who seemed nearly frantic with affright. +</p> + +<p> +"What is the matter of him, Marion?" asked she. +</p> + +<p> +"His father kissed him in his sleep and woke him. You know he always +screams at sight of Lawrence." +</p> + +<p> +"Strange he should be afraid of his father; but he will doubtless get +over it as he grows older." +</p> + +<p> +"I think it increases upon him." +</p> + +<p> +"Is not Lawrence at home?" inquired Mrs. Prague. +</p> + +<p> +"He is in the office with Mr. Sumpter, I believe," was the reply. +</p> + +<p> +"Would you think it, Marion? Your father is opposed to our Catherine's +marrying Mr. Sumpter." +</p> + +<p> +"Indeed, I do not wonder. I do not consider him a proper person for any +young lady of taste and refinement to marry." +</p> + +<p> +"Why so? Lawrence extols him." +</p> + +<p> +"Does he?" +</p> + +<p> +The child had grown quiet, and now slept in its mother's arms. As her +son-in-law did not appear, Mrs. Prague soon retired. +</p> + +<p> +Hardin was having a stormy scene with Sumpter. The latter had of late +grown bold and impetuous. Admitted in confidence to all Hardin's +nefarious schemes and plottings, he gained a power over the wicked man, +and began to exercise it with arbitrary sway. He was a reckless, +unprincipled gambler, and, having recently encountered heavy losses, +came with a bold demand on Hardin's purse. +</p> + +<p> +"You are getting to use me shabbily," he exclaimed, angrily; "with all +Sheldon's fortune tucked away in your pocket, to say nothing of—you +know what—you refuse me so small a favor as a cool thousand. Come, hand +over, or, by Heaven, I'll inform against you!" +</p> + +<p> +"You can hardly do that, without marring your own good fame," said +Hardin, ironically; "and I know you would shrink from doing that." +</p> + +<p> +"None of your sneers, Hardin," growled Sumpter, fiercely; "will you give +me the money?" +</p> + +<p> +"No!" thundered Hardin, with an oath; "you shall not ride rough-shod +over me in this way. Now begone from my sight!" +</p> + +<p> +"Very well; good-evening, Esq. Hardin," said Sumpter, with a savage, +revengeful leer on his countenance, as he went out, slamming the door +spitefully behind him. +</p> + +<p> +Hardin was alarmed, after the wretch was gone, as he reflected how far +he was in the monster's power, and in what ruin he might involve him if +he chose. +</p> + + + + +<p class="chapter"> +CHAPTER XVII. +</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>"Now mark him in the tempest hour,</p> +<p class="i2">Will he be calm, or will he quail</p> +<p>Before the fury of its power?</p> +<p class="i2">——Read ye the tale."</p></div></div><br> + + +<p> +There are those that know not the extent of their powers till they are +called forth and tasked to the utmost by trial and misfortune. Such an +one was Frank Sheldon. Disposed to ease and quiet in the hour of +prosperity, when adversity came, it aroused him at once to vigorous, +decisive action. Though bereft of love and fortune at a blow, as it +were, his manly spirit did not cower and sink beneath the strokes; that +he suffered is true, but he bore up bravely under the adverse fortune. +He was proud, as all great minds are, and the blight so publicly cast on +Annie Evalyn's good repute, cut him to the quick; but he hoped she might +be able to refute the aspersions cast on her by Sumpter, for he was loth +to think ill of a being that had appeared so amiable and exalted in her +nature, so lofty in soul and intellect, and was beautiful as an angel in +person. But, instead of this, she fled by night from the scene of her +confusion, leaving behind all her effects, and no clue to her intended +course. Did not this wear the appearance of guilt? Still he did not +condemn her, but learned from Dr. Prague the place of her former +residence, and wrote a letter, assuring her of a continuance of +affection, and asking an explanation of Sumpter's strange tale. No +answer was returned,—indeed, the letter never reached its destination; +but this Sheldon did not know, and was forced to regard the silence as +another proof of her cupidity. +</p> + +<p> +With this view of the matter he found it less difficult to subdue his +passion. He could not, <i>would</i> not love a guilty, artful thing. +</p> + +<p> +And now fell another blow in quick succession; his land investment +proved worthless, and at a sweep his fortune went past power to recover. +Hardin expressed much regret, but Sheldon could not avoid noticing that +he clutched at every opportunity to save his own affairs, and exposed +him to the most uncertain hazards. +</p> + +<p> +Old Dr. Prague loudly bewailed Sheldon's ill luck, and declared he would +never forgive himself for having advised the young man to embark in the +cursed speculations. But Sheldon begged him not to be unnecessarily +distressed, as it was no fault of his that the schemes proved abortive; +and the good doctor finally coincided, and settled down to his oranges +with tolerable serenity. +</p> + +<p> +Sheldon did not long remain inactive; he left those scenes amid which +misfortune had overtaken him, and repaired to the eastern cities, where +he readily found employ in an extensive printing establishment, and +applied himself assiduously to his duties. In a short time he was +admitted to the firm, and became assistant editor of a popular magazine. +This was an occupation congenial to his tastes, as it afforded him not +only an opportunity of writing, but of reading, and becoming intimately +acquainted with the polite literature of the day. +</p> + +<p> +He was one day in the editorial sanctum, examining a quantity of +manuscripts lately received, when one, in a clear, delicate female hand, +attracted his eye. There was something in the light, fairy tracery which +instantly riveted his attention. He read it through; "Woodland Winne," +was the signature,—a <i>nomme de plume</i>, of course. He wondered who +could be the fair authoress of this beautiful production. +</p> + +<p> +While thus occupied in conjectures, a gentleman entered the apartment. +</p> + +<p> +"Here, Wilberforce, do you know this MS.?" said Sheldon, holding it +toward him. +</p> + +<p> +"O, yes!" answered the gentleman, glancing it over; "beautiful hand, is +it not?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes; but who is the writer?" +</p> + +<p> +"O, I don't know that! I have had several communications from the same +pen in the last three months, all exquisite in their style and diction, +and eliciting warm commendation from the literary press." +</p> + +<p> +"And cannot you discover the fair unknown?" +</p> + +<p> +"No, I have addressed her under her <i>nomme de plume</i>, and desired +her true name remitted, in confidence, if she objected to publicity; but +she has never seen fit to gratify my curiosity." +</p> + +<p> +"Strange one so deserving should shun notoriety," remarked Sheldon. +</p> + +<p> +"So it seems to me," said Wilberforce, who was the senior editor; "but I +came in to call you to the Literary Association; it meets at three +o'clock. Come, let's be off, or we shall be too late;—these MSS. we can +look over to-morrow." +</p> + +<p> +They closed the office and went out in company. But Sheldon forgot +himself several times in the debate, as a semblance of that delicate +manuscript, enwrit with those clear, sparkling fancies, rose often +before his mental vision. +</p> + +<p> +There seemed to be a spell about it, to charm and lead captive his +imagination. +</p> + + + + +<p class="chapter"> +CHAPTER XVIII. +</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>"The hour of vengeance strikes,—hark to the gale!</p> +<p>As it bursts hollow through the rolling clouds.</p> +<p>Such is the hand of Heaven!"</p></div></div><br> + + +<p> +It came at length, swift, avenging justice; awful in might, and none +could resist its angry hand. +</p> + +<p> +The "pestilence that walketh at noonday," swept over the fair, young +cities of the west, and thousands fell victims to the remorseless +destroyer. +</p> + +<p> +O, Cholera! great be the name of him, who, from the mazes of scientific +lore, shall call a power to rob thee of thy terrors, thou scourge of +mankind! +</p> + +<p> +Lawrence Hardin returned from a southern trip to find his house left +desolate; wife and child both in their hastily-covered graves. He shook +with agony, and scarce was the first frantic burst of grief subsided, +ere the officers of justice entered his mansion and declared him their +prisoner. He glared at them wildly. +</p> + +<p> +"What mean you," he asked, "by this untimely intrusion in the house of +death?" +</p> + +<p> +"Prepare to accompany us to the court-room immediately," was the answer, +"to answer to a charge of swindling and forgery preferred by one John +Sumpter, who is also arrested and undergoing examination." +</p> + +<p> +Hardin grew ashy-pale at these words. +</p> + +<p> +"The villain!" he muttered; "so he has betrayed me. Carry me where you +will, Mr. Officer. Life is a curse to me henceforth." +</p> + +<p> +Thus speaking, he resigned himself passively to the custody of the +sheriffs. They conducted him instantly to the court-house, and placed +him in the prisoner's box beside Sumpter, who cowered and moved away at +his approach. Hardin threw a look of envenomed hatred on the wretch, and +sat down. When the charges were read he merely bowed; and when asked +what he had to plead, replied: "Nothing, only that they would hang him +up as soon as convenient, and thus end his misery." He was placed in +jail with Sumpter, and several other defaulters, to await a final trial +at the autumn sessions. +</p> + +<p> +And the pestilence swept on; young and old, rich and poor, all fell +before its blasting power. In the brief space of twenty-four hours, Dr. +Prague was bereft of wife and children, and left a poor, lone man, in +his solitary mansion. Where should the mourner turn for consolation? At +this crisis, he thought of his old friend, Parson Grey, and determined +to quit the city for a few weeks, till the epidemic should have +subsided, and make him a visit. He was just the calm, holy spirit he +needed to solace his afflictions; and accordingly a letter was +despatched, which brought a speedy reply, sympathizing in his distress, +and urgently inviting him to join them as soon as possible. +</p> + +<p> +He visited Hardin before departing, informed him of the death of all his +family, and kindly inquired if he could be of any service to the +imprisoned man. +</p> + +<p> +"No!" was the answer; "and I don't know what you came here at all for. +What do I care if your wife and brats <i>are</i> dead? So is <i>my</i> +wife dead, and <i>my</i> child, and I hope soon to be. The greatest +favor you can bestow is to get out of my sight." +</p> + +<p> +The doctor gazed on the hardened wretch with pity, and turned away. He +left the city in July, and the first of September the trials came on. +The large court-house was densely thronged to hear the pleas and +decision in the case of the extensive forgeries and bank frauds of +Hardin and Sumpter. There could be little doubt of the verdict, as the +evidence against the parties was powerful and conclusive, and none +seemed so regardless of the issue as the prisoners themselves. With +hard, stoical faces, they confronted the jury, as they returned from +their deliberations and resumed their seats on the platform. +</p> + +<p> +Without, the elements were raging in their wildest, most terrific fury. +Broad flashes of lightning at intervals illuminated the crowded hall, +and glared on the sea of upturned human faces, marked with every variety +and shade of passion and feeling. The thunder roared and reverberated +through the heavens with tremendous crashings, as the judge arose, and, +turning toward the jury, asked, in solemn accents, if they had agreed +upon a verdict. +</p> + +<p> +They had. +</p> + +<p> +"Are the prisoners at the bar guilty, or not guilty?" +</p> + +<p> +There came a blinding flash, followed by a deafening thunder-bolt, as +the foreman rose and pronounced the word, "<i>Guilty</i>." +</p> + +<p> +Smothered screams at this moment issued from various parts of the +assembly. The building was struck and on fire. Terrible confusion +ensued. Frantic cries and shrieks mingled with the bellowings of the +storm without, rendering the scene awful beyond description. All rushed +pell-mell for the street. The crackling flames burst through the broad +windows on the side of the judges' platform, rolling a dense volume of +smoke and stifling heat into the interior of the building. In the wild +excitement and terror, the prisoners were forgotten. They stood in the +box where they had received sentence. The flames were rapidly +approaching them. Sumpter turned a glance full of hatred and vengeance +on Hardin. "You swore revenge on Sheldon," said he, "and I helped you +accomplish your iniquitous designs. You refused a paltry sum when I +asked it, and then I swore revenge on you, and this is the way I finish +it." +</p> + +<p> +Hardin drew a revolver from his breast; "And this is the way I finish +mine," he said; and, taking aim, lodged a ball in the heart of Sumpter. +Then, springing quick as lightning over the box, he rushed among the +crowd and gained the street. The intense darkness favored his flight, +and, hurrying on, he gained the levees, secreted himself in the hold of +a boat, and had the good fortune to find himself floating down the river +in the morning. +</p> + + + + +<p class="chapter"> +CHAPTER XIX. +</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>"Go forth, thou spirit proud and high,</p> +<p class="i2">Upon thy soaring way;</p> +<p>Plume all thy pinions for the sky,</p> +<p class="i2">And sing a glorious lay."</p></div></div><br> + + +<p> +As the young sapling of the forest bends and sways in the fury of the +blast, and, when it is passed, rises and shakes the weight of rain-drops +from its pliant boughs, and stands stronger, higher, more beautiful than +before, so Annie Evalyn, when the passion-storm had spent its fury, rose +a purer, loftier being, with a heart firm and free, and a soul elevated +and sublime in its aspirations. There might be traces to tell the +tempest had been a wild one; a paleness on the brow; the lips thinned +and slightly compressed; the eyelids sometimes drooping their long +lashes over the dark, liquid eyes, and a tear stealing silently over the +marble cheek; or a slight shudder for a moment convulsing the slender +frame, as if memory painted a picture the soul shrank from +contemplating. Yet these light tokens of what <i>had</i> been, +heightened the sublime beauty of what was <i>now</i>. Annie was no +longer a child in the world's lore of experience. Sorrow and suffering +are swift teachers. They unfold and perfect the powers with astonishing +rapidity. Annie Evalyn was a woman; with a quick eye and ready judgment +to detect and discern the workings of that great mystery, the human +heart, yet simple and child-like in her manners, as of old. +</p> + +<p> +"Bless it, but this is an agreeable surprise!" exclaimed Aunt Patty, as +Annie entered the little, rock-built cottage, on a clear, cool evening +in early autumn, with a bright smile beaming on her lovely features; +"why, I didn't once think of your comin' to-night, hinney, bein' as you +were here last Saturday. But it does my old heart good to know you +remember your poor, ignorant aunty, when you are among your little +scholars and so many kind friends at the Parsonage." +</p> + +<p> +"O, I never forget you, aunty!" said Annie, returning the old lady's +embrace; "this humble cot and these old Scraggiewood oaks are very dear +to my heart." +</p> + +<p> +"I'm glad to hear it, dear; it is a homely spot, to be sure, but it has +sheltered us well. But what is doing at the parson's, love? All well and +happy?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, and Aunt Rachel sent you this little box of wax-candles. She said +you loved to read evenings, sometimes, and these gave such a clear, +steady light, it would do your old eyes good to behold it." +</p> + +<p> +"The dear, kind-hearted creature!" said Aunt Patty, receiving the +package and brushing away a grateful tear. "Sure she is a perfect +Christian if there is one on earth." +</p> + +<p> +"O, we have some news at the vicarage, aunty! The old gentleman, in +whose family I resided during my stay in the western country, has sent a +letter to Parson Grey, narrating a sad tale of misfortunes, and +expressing a desire to visit him ere long. It seems the cholera has been +committing frightful ravages through those sections, and his entire +family have been swept away in the brief space of one week. And, O, +aunty, I dread to go on!" +</p> + +<p> +"Let me hear, child." +</p> + +<p> +"You recollect the man, Sumpter, who spoke those dreadful words in a +social company?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, yes, didn't I have him here, in this very room, on a night long +ago—and Hardin too? Ay, dark, wicked schemes, and worse than those, +showed in their cups. But go on, love." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, they have been arrested for forgery and found guilty. The sequel +of the affair Mr. Grey received last evening, in an extra sent him by +Dr. Prague. It appears the verdict was rendered during a violent storm, +which struck the court-house, and, in the confusion that followed, +Hardin shot Sumpter and escaped." +</p> + +<p> +"O, shocking!" exclaimed Aunt Patty, with horror depicted on her +countenance. "Ay, God's vengeance is sure to overtake the wicked sooner +or later." +</p> + +<p> +"We look for the arrival of Dr. Prague every day. How do you think he +will meet me, aunty?" +</p> + +<p> +"How should he meet you, child, but with shame and confusion of face?" +</p> + +<p> +"But he was always kind to me, aunty." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, he didn't do right never to send a letter to inquire after your +fate, or forward your clothes and wages." +</p> + +<p> +"He might have been prevented by his wife. I know she was a violent +woman and had ever a dislike to me." +</p> + +<p> +"Nothing should prevent a man from doing what is just and right, Annie," +said Aunt Patty, in an inflexible tone; "but it is like you to think the +best of people's failings, and I acknowledge it is a good way. Now, +hinney, I'll make a dish of tea, and we'll have a brimming bowl of +Crummie's sweet milk, with some of your favorite berries. I'm so glad! +It seems a Providence that I gathered some this mornin'. I'll slab up +some batter cakes; you know I'm pretty good at them; and just you light +one of Rachel's candles—though it is hardly dark yet, it will make the +table look so cheerful-like." +</p> + +<p> +Annie did as directed, and they soon sat down to the simple meal. Aunt +Patty's face was redolent with good-humor and cheerfulness, as she +dished out the largest, ripest berries, and nicest browned cakes for her +darling. +</p> + +<p> +"Do you write your pretty stories and poetries for that city magazine +now, hinney?" she asked, as they discussed their meal. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, aunty, and I have brought several numbers for your perusal. I +still want to be famous, aunty, though I once thought I didn't care for +anything more in this world; but that was in a foolish time, and is past +by now. Mr. Grey says it is better to be good than great; but if one can +be both, why, better still, I fancy. And I know I feel happy when I'm +teaching those poor little children to read and love each other, and +grow up to be blessings to their parents. This is doing good, Mr. Grey +says; but this restless heart of mine is not filled, is not content. It +feels there are other faculties, lying dormant and unemployed. The +editors of this magazine have offered two prizes,—one for the best +tale, the other for the best poem,—and I'm going to strive to win them. +The money would make you very comfortable for life, aunty; and you have +done so much for me I want to repay some of your kindness if I can." +</p> + +<p> +"Dear heart!" said the old woman, tearfully, "what have I ever done for +you that is not already ten-fold repaid by seeing your bright eyes, and +feeling that you love your old aunty?" +</p> + +<p> +"But I'm not wholly disinterested, aunty; don't you see I covet the fame +that would follow should I succeed? That's for me; the money for you. +Now kiss me good-night, and I'll to my cot to dream a subject for my +labor." +</p> + +<p> +"God bless and prosper you, my darling!" said the fond aunt. +</p> + + + + +<p class="chapter"> +CHAPTER XX. +</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>"It was a face one loved to gaze upon,</p> +<p>For calm serenity of thought was there.</p> +<p>The eyes were soft and gentle in their glance,</p> +<p>And looked with trusting artlessness in yours.</p> +<p>Placid her mien, like that of lofty souls</p> +<p>That after storm sink down in tranquil rest."</p></div></div><br> + + +<p> +Once more is winding on the spring-time of the year, and once more is +Annie Evalyn away from the old forest home. Her soft, bird-like tones +echo through the sumptuous drawing-rooms of Dr. Prague's stately +mansion, in that fair western city. During his visit to the east the +preceding summer, he had succeeded in coaxing her away from Mr. Grey and +her aunt, to pass a few months with him, and cheer and enliven his +lonesome abode. +</p> + +<p> +"No one could do this so well as Annie," he said, "always his pet and +darling; though his foolish, yielding old heart had been overruled by +others to treat her with wicked neglect, for which he now cursed +himself, and wanted opportunity to make amends." +</p> + +<p> +So Annie kissed them all round, and went with him to pass a few months. +She had completed her prizes, and was now waiting to hear of their +reception. She had also contributed to the literary publications of the +city, and received a large share of flattery and applause; and, though +writing under a fictitious signature, her identity was well known in +private circles. Sumpter's villany and disgraceful end had effectually +destroyed his tale of her duplicity and artifice, and the highest +classes sought her friendship and society. The memory of former trial +and suffering stole over her sometimes, as she mingled again 'mid the +scenes of its enacting; but she was too wise and good to allow it to +rankle, or stir bitter feelings in her bosom. Let the past be forgotten +in the felicity of the present. Heaven had visited devouring vengeance +on the guilty ones. Let her bow in silence and adore! +</p> + +<p> +It was evening. Annie sat on a low ottoman at the side of the infirm, +good-natured old Dr. Prague. A bright gas-light sparkled through a +wrought-glass shade above them, and a silver salver, containing some +golden oranges and pearl-handled knives, stood on a walnut stand near +by. A servant entered, bearing a package of papers. +</p> + +<p> +"Here they are, dear uncle!" exclaimed Annie, springing forward to +receive them from the waiter's hand. "Now our evening's amusement can +commence;" and she passed him the dish of fruit, twirled the light a +little higher, and, drawing a stool close to his side, said, "Now what +shall I read first? The price of stocks, the list of deaths——" +</p> + +<p> +"No, little babbler," said he, patting her curls playfully; "you know +what comes first of all. 'Woodland Winnie,' of course." +</p> + +<p> +"Woodland Winnie is a silly little thing," remarked Annie. +</p> + +<p> +"I'll be my own judge as to that, Miss Annie; please to read on." +</p> + +<p> +"O, here is something from 'Alastor!'" she said, turning over the pages +of a new eastern magazine. "I do so love his writings; please let me +read this first, uncle. Do you know his real name?" +</p> + +<p> +"No; but I sometimes fancy it may be my old ward, Frank Sheldon, as he +has always had a turn for writing, and is one of the editors of this +periodical." +</p> + +<p> +"One of the editors of this magazine!" repeated Annie, in a quick, +excited tone; "I never knew that before." +</p> + +<p> +"Why, I thought I told you last fall, at Parson Grey's, in some of our +talks about former days." +</p> + +<p> +"No; you said he was employed in some printing establishment at the +east, that was all." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, I intended to have mentioned the rest; but what makes you look so +earnest and rosy, Annie?" +</p> + +<p> +"O, nothing!" she answered; "I was only thinking." +</p> + +<p> +"Frank has written to me, recently, a letter of sympathy and condolence, +and says he will visit the west this summer," the old man continued, +paring an orange. "I was going to make him my sole heir, but now I've +found you, I believe I shall curtail him and take you in for a share." +</p> + +<p> +"O, you had better not!" she exclaimed quickly. +</p> + +<p> +"And why better not, child?" +</p> + +<p> +"Because he is more deserving your generosity than I." +</p> + +<p> +"More deserving? No, indeed, Annie. But see how nicely I have peeled +this orange for you," passing it to her. +</p> + +<p> +"For me, uncle! You had better eat it yourself." +</p> + +<p> +"Why, what ails the girl? She won't even accept an orange from my hand." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes I will, uncle; but after you had prepared it so nicely, I thought +you ought to enjoy it yourself," she answered, accepting the luscious +fruit. He gazed on her affectionately while she ate the juicy slices, +with grateful relish, and when she had finished, said, "Now will Annie +read to me awhile?" +</p> + +<p> +"With the greatest pleasure, uncle," she answered, returning to the +package of books, from which she read till he was satisfied. +</p> + +<p> +"Your voice reminds me of those wild, bright birds I used to hear +singing in that old wilderness of Scraggiewood, when I called on a quiet +evening at that rocky cottage where you were nursed into being; a spot +fit to adorn a fairy tale. No wonder you are such a pure-souled, +imaginative creature, reared in that pristine solitude of nature. Now +you may retire, darling, and don't fail to be down in the morning to +pour the old man's coffee, because it is never so sweet as when coming +from Annie's little hands." Thus speaking, he bestowed a fatherly kiss +upon her soft cheek, and she glided away to her own apartment. A long +time on her downy couch she lay gazing on the moonbeams that glinted +over the rich flowers of the Persian carpet, while crowding thoughts and +fancies thronged upon her brain. Most prominent were those of Sheldon, +and his connection with the magazine for which she had written her +prizes. Amid wonderings and fancyings she fell asleep, to follow them up +in dreams, with every variation of hue and coloring. She was roaming +through the gravelled avenues of an extensive flower-garden, when a +rainbow of surpassing brilliancy spanned a circle in the air above her, +and wherever she turned her steps, it followed, hovering just above her +head; and the delicate colors seemed to strike a warm, heart-thrilling +joy down to the inmost recesses of her soul. She woke, with a delicious +sense of happiness, to find the morning sun throwing his golden beams +into her apartment. +</p> + + + + +<p class="chapter"> +CHAPTER XXI. +</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>"And I did love thee, when so oft we met</p> +<p class="i2">In the sweet evenings of that summer-time,</p> +<p>Whose pleasant memory lingers with me yet,</p> +<p class="i2">As the remembrance of a better clime</p> +<p>Might haunt a fallen angel. And O, thou—</p> +<p class="i2">Thou who didst turn away and seek to bind</p> +<p>Thy heart from breaking—thou hast felt e'er now</p> +<p class="i2">A heart like thine o'ermastereth the mind;</p> +<p>Affection's power is stronger than thy will.</p> +<p class="i2">Ah, thou didst love me, and thou lovst me still!"</p></div></div><br> + + + +<p> +Annie's foot was on the stairs to descend to the drawing-room, on the +following evening, when she heard the old doctor's voice in the hall, +exclaiming, in tones of loud, hearty welcome, +</p> + +<p> +"Why, bless my eyes! Frank Sheldon, my boy, do I behold you at last? And +to come upon me in this unexpected manner! I've a mind to throw this +orange at your head." +</p> + +<p> +"Do so, sir, if you choose; but first hear my apology for this +unceremonious surprise. Business brought me——" +</p> + +<p> +"I won't hear a word about an apology," interrupted the doctor, +bestowing a hearty slap on his young friend's shoulder. "Come in, boy, +come in;" and the doors of the drawing-room opened and closed after +them. +</p> + +<p> +Annie ran back to her apartment in a flutter of emotion. "Sheldon there! +and he came from <i>that office</i>! Business brought him,—what would +come of it all?" She dared not hope or anticipate. She dared not think +at all; and, throwing her graceful form on a sofa, she commenced tearing +some water-color paintings she had lately been executing, into strips, +and twisting them into gas-lighters. +</p> + +<p> +Meantime Sheldon was snugly bestowed in a cushioned seat beside his good +friend, the doctor, who was plying him with a thousand questions +concerning his affairs, prospects, etc. After he had become satisfied on +these points, he recollected Sheldon had mentioned some business as the +cause of his sudden visit. +</p> + +<p> +"What was it you said about business bringing you so unexpectedly?" he +inquired. "So, I would not have enjoyed this pleasure had inclination +alone biased your feelings!" +</p> + +<p> +"You wrong me, sir," returned Sheldon, "by such an insinuation. I would +have visited you in the summer, in any event. I merely intended to say +business hurried my arrival. Our magazine, several months ago, issued a +set of prizes for the best poem and tale. The articles have been +received, and I commissioned to award the authoress, who, it appears, is +a resident of your city." +</p> + +<p> +"Indeed!" said the doctor. "Then we've a literary genius among us. What +is her name?" +</p> + +<p> +"She writes under a <i>nomme de plume</i>." +</p> + +<p> +"And what is that?" +</p> + +<p> +"Woodland Winnie." +</p> + +<p> +The good doctor sprang to his feet with such remarkable quickness as to +overturn the tray of oranges on the stand beside him, and they went +rolling over the carpet in all directions, while he clapped his hands +and roared again and again with convulsing laughter. Sheldon was +dumb-founded. +</p> + +<p> +"Good!" exclaimed the doctor, in a tone of gleeful chuckling. "Ha, ha, +ha! I declare I shall die a laughing. So cunning, the witch,—never to +tell me!" +</p> + +<p> +"Do you know the lady?" asked Sheldon in amaze, gazing on his friend's +extravagant demonstrations of mirth and joy. +</p> + +<p> +"Better and better!" roared the doctor. "Do I know her? Yes; she has +been an inmate of my mansion for the last <i>six</i> months. Why, boy, +she is an angel;—as gifted, as beautiful, and as good as all the beauty +and genius put together. She has warmed my old heart and filled my house +with sunshine." +</p> + +<p> +"You will do me a great favor to introduce your humble servant to this +paragon of excellence." +</p> + +<p> +"Exactly! I'll do it all in good time; but take another orange, man!" he +said, extending the empty tray to Sheldon. "Zounds! where are they +gone?" he exclaimed, perceiving the dish to be vacant. "Have I eaten +them all?" +</p> + +<p> +Sheldon could not forbear laughing now, as he informed the doctor of his +accident, which called forth another burst of merriment. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, you want to see this lady?" he said, when it had subsided. "I'll +bring her to you in a jiffy;" and the gleeful doctor departed on his +errand. +</p> + +<p> +Sheldon paced the floor uneasily during his absence; but he was not kept +long in waiting. He soon heard steps descending the stairs and, whirling +a chair so as to give him but a side view of the entrance, sat down to +await their coming. The doors slid open, and he became aware of a light, +graceful figure, in a dark, crimson robe, leaning on the doctor's arm, +and approaching with fairy-like steps. The setting sun was throwing a +flood of radiance through the heavy folds of purple damask, and filling +the apartment with soft, dreamy light as they paused before him. +</p> + +<p> +"I have the pleasure of presenting to you 'Woodland Winnie,' Mr. +Sheldon," said the doctor. +</p> + +<p> +Sheldon raised his dark eyes slowly to the lady's face, and there, in +the genial light of that mild spring evening, stood Annie Evalyn. He +started as if an electric shock had shot through his frame. She trembled +and blushed, and the old doctor roared and shook with laughter at +Sheldon's speechless surprise; but the latter soon recovered himself and +greeted Annie with respectful cordiality, offering an apology for his +surprise, by saying he was not prepared to behold a former acquaintance +in the fair authoress. She returned his salutations with grace and ease, +while the doctor continued to laugh immoderately. So pleased was the old +gentleman with the part he had enacted in the scene, that he actually +consumed twelve oranges, and despatched a servant for a fresh supply. +Sheldon could not avoid stealing a glance at Annie as she sat on the +sofa before him. The dark chestnut curls were lifted away from the +expanding temples, and the delicate marble complexion, relieved by a +just perceptible tinge of rose on either cheek; while the beautifully +imaginative expression of the full blue eye, the curved lip and nostril +speaking the free, dauntless spirit, and the exquisite contour of the +light, graceful figure, yet somewhat taller and thinner than when he had +last seen her, all conspired to assure him it was no timid, shrinking +girl he beheld, but the lofty, talented, accomplished woman. Back came +the old love and admiration ten-fold stronger than ever. The doctor went +out to look after his oranges. There was a silence. It was growing +oppressive. He rose and approached the sofa. +</p> + +<p> +"I have erred, Annie," he said, in a low, mellow tone, fraught with deep +sorrow and contrition. +</p> + +<p> +"We are human, Frank," she answered, very softly. +</p> + +<p> +It was not the words, but the tone, the manner, that convinced him he +was forgiven. He sat down beside her, and there, in the deepening +twilight of that spring evening, what a holy happiness was rising over +the ruins of wickedness and crime! Who shall say how much holier, purer, +and more elevated for the trying ordeal to which it had been subjected? +</p> + + + + +<p class="chapter"> +CHAPTER XXII. +</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2">"To all and each a fair good-night,</p> +<p class="i2">And rosy dreams and slumbers bright."</p></div></div><br> + + + +<p> +We are winding to a close. In the delicious coolness of a summer +evening, Aunt Patty sat upon her lowly stile, her head drooped pensively +on her withered hand, as if absorbed in deep meditation. The sound of +approaching footsteps aroused her, and directly a light form was at her +side, while a soft voice whispered in her ear: "You are thinking of one +from whom I bring tidings." +</p> + +<p> +It was Netta Wild, accompanied by her husband, who carried a small +package in his hand. +</p> + +<p> +"Ay, yes! true, Netta, I was thinking of Annie," said the old woman, +rising, and beckoning them to enter, while she bustled about and lighted +a candle. "So you have brought me news of her?" she continued. "I always +know when I'm going to hear from hinny, for I'm thinking and dreaming +about her all the time for three or four days before the tidings come." +</p> + +<p> +"You should have had bright visions of late, Aunt Patty, if they are to +tally with the truth," said Netta. "Annie has won the prizes." +</p> + +<p> +"Has she? Do tell!" exclaimed the old woman, her face glowing with +pleasure. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, and here are the magazines containing the articles," answered +Netta, untying the package; "but this is the smallest part of her good +fortune; there's better news yet to be imparted, Aunt Patty. Sit down +here close beside me while I read this letter,—it is for both of us, +she says." +</p> + +<p> +Aunt Patty hitched her chair close up, remarking, as she did so, that +"the best news she could hear of hinny was, that she was coming back to +her old aunty." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, she is coming back," said Netta, "but not alone; in brief; she is +married, Aunt Patty." +</p> + +<p> +"O dear! O dear!" groaned the old lady in agony; "I have lost her +forever, my darling, darling Annie!" +</p> + +<p> +"No you haven't," said Netta; "for she says it was in the bargain that +she should never go from her dear old aunty while she lived, but always +be near to cheer and console her declining years." +</p> + +<p> +"O, the hinny love!" said Aunt Patty, brightening at these words. +</p> + +<p> +"And she describes her meeting with Sheldon (for he is the bridegroom); +of his being one of the editors of the magazine for which her prizes +were written; of his surprise at finding to whom he was awarding them, +and the explanation, and awakening of the old love, which quickly +followed." +</p> + +<p> +"We are married, Netta," she writes, "and are all bound eastward, as +soon as Dr. Prague can close up his affairs in this city, as he proposes +to accompany us, and spend the remainder of his days near your kind +father. He says he has no ties to bind him to the western country. You +will take this package, containing my prizes, to aunty, and read this +letter to her. Tell her she must use the note enclosed to buy her a +smart new dress, and get you to make her a high-crowned cap with an +extra pinch in the border, in which to receive her Annie's husband." +</p> + +<p> +The old woman laughed and cried by turns, and said, "'Twas not much use +to rig up such an old, withered thing as she was; but then she would do +all as hinny wished." +</p> + +<p> +George and Netta stopped awhile to chat upon the expected arrival. Netta +said, "The young couple could live in the beautiful stone mansion George +had just completed, and which was now wanting a family. It was built in +Gothic style, and most romantically situated, only a little distance +from the Parsonage, in a delightful grove of maples and elms. She had +been wondering who would occupy it, but never dreamed it might be Annie +and her noble husband." +</p> + +<p> +Thus they talked and planned; Aunt Patty all the while half wild with +excitement and expectation. At length they took leave, Netta promising +to come next day, and assist in making the new dress and smart cap. +</p> + +<hr class="short"> + +<p> +Onward they came, on the wings of the flying steam-steed. Onward they +came, a happy trio; the good old doctor, boisterous in his glee and +satisfaction, looking first on Annie, then on Sheldon, and bursting +again and again into peals of exuberant laughter; so wonderfully pleased +was he with the success of his first attempt at match-making; for he +appropriated to himself the whole glory of cementing the union between +his two favorites. The only thing that caused anxiety or solicitude +during their journey was a fear lest the good old gentleman, in his wild +abandonment of joy, should forget himself, and eat so many oranges as to +endanger his precious existence. But, happily, their fears proved +imaginary. No such catastrophe occurred to mar their felicity, and the +little party safely reached the hospitable mansion of Parson Grey, and +were received with every demonstration of joy and welcome by the +expectant inmates. Aunt Rachel was in her highest cap, and soon +commenced preparations for the bridal supper, on which she had expended +her utmost, and expected to derive much commendation therefrom; but now, +Annie, little whimsie! overturned all her hopes at once. She had set her +heart on eating her bridal supper with Aunt Patty at the rock cottage in +Scraggiewood, and Sheldon declared it <i>his</i> wish too. +</p> + +<p> +Parson Grey was of opinion the young couple should be left to act their +own pleasure in the matter, and all finally coincided; Aunt Rachel with +some disappointed looks, that Aunt Patty's oaten cakes should gain the +preference to her rich, frosted loaves; but she reflected that her +sumptuous banquet could be displayed and partaken of some other day; and +so she smoothed her brow and joined the rest in wishing Frank and Annie +a pleasant walk to Scraggiewood. +</p> + +<p> +As evening closed in, the happy couple, arm in arm, and unattended, took +their way over the rough forest path. Annie had so much to tell of her +early years passed there, and he was so intent on listening, that they +were close upon the cottage, ere they seemed to have passed over one +half the distance. +</p> + +<p> +"What a wild, weird spot!" he exclaimed. "No wonder you have such +glorious fancies, love." +</p> + +<p> +Annie motioned him to be silent; she had caught a glimpse of her aunt +sitting in the porch. +</p> + +<p> +"Come quick," she said, and in a moment they stood before the startled +old lady. Annie flung her arm over her neck and said: "Here's Annie and +her husband come to Scraggiewood to take their bridal supper with their +dear aunty." +</p> + +<p> +The old lady returned her darling's embrace warmly, but looked rather +abashed and disconcerted at beholding so fine a gentleman; but when he +advanced and shook her heartily by the hand, expressing in eloquent +words his gratitude to her for rearing so bright a flower to bless his +life, she gradually regained her composure; and with the young couple +roaming round the hut, out under the trees, and away into the woods in +the clear moonlight to search up Crummie, for Annie said, "Frank must +become acquainted with all her friends,"—the joyful dame set about +preparing a repast. She managed to get on her new gown and cap while +they were out, for their sudden arrival had surprised her in her +homespun garb. Annie noticed the change soon as they were seated at the +table, and, though Aunt Patty thought she needn't, remarked upon it at +once. +</p> + +<p> +"When did you find time to make that fine toilet, aunty?" she asked in a +roguish tone. +</p> + +<p> +But Aunt Patty turned the point well. "Why, dear, seeing you were so +particular in your letter that I should spruce up to receive you and +your husband, I thought I could do no less than respect your wishes." +</p> + +<p> +"Ha! ha!" laughed Sheldon; "you are well answered for your pleasantry, +Annie." +</p> + +<p> +Thus they discussed their simple meal with mirth and good-humor. Aunt +Patty's batter cakes seemed to have received an extra fine touch, and +the cream and butter were such as a king might relish, Sheldon declared. +</p> + +<p> +When the meal was over they sat down on the stile, Aunt Patty, at +Annie's request, drawing her chair close beside them. Then they talked, +and told her how much they anticipated living in the great mansion so +near to Parson Grey; and they would come every week to see her; and a +hundred other fine plans Annie formed, laying her head all the while on +her husband's arm, as he twined wild flowers among her dark curls, and +laughed at her lively sallies. Aunt Patty declared 'twas a sight angels +might envy, their love and happiness. +</p> + +<p> +The moon rose high above the tall forest trees, casting a mild, holy +radiance over the scene. And thus we leave them;—and thus we +say—"Good-night to Scraggiewood!" +</p> + + + +<br> +<hr class="med"> +<br> + +<h3><a name="329">ALICE ORVILLE; +<br>OR, +<br>LIFE IN THE SOUTH AND WEST.</a> +</h3> + + + + +<p class="chapter"> +CHAPTER I. +</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2">"Adown the lovely waters,</p> +<p class="i4">Behold the vessel glide,</p> +<p class="i2">While beauty's fairest daughters</p> +<p class="i4">Gaze on the laughing tide."</p></div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>"She sought no notice, therefore gained it all,</p> +<p>As thus she stood apart from all the throng</p> +<p>Of heartless ones that passed before her eyes."</p></div></div><br> + + +<p> +The Mississippi—river of majestic beauties—with the green, delightful +shores, elegant plantations, and dense forests of tall cotton-wood and +dark, funereal cypress, overhung with the parasitical moss, gliding +panorama-like before the enraptured vision! How proudly the mighty +steam-boats cut the turbid water, bearing the wealth and merchandise of +those productive lands to the numerous towns and cities that adorn the +banks of the majestic river! +</p> + +<p> +It was a lovely night in early June, and the guards of that queenliest +of all queenly boats, the "Eclipse," were thronged with ladies and +gentlemen just risen from their evening banquet in the sumptuous +dining-saloon. They were passing Baton Rouge, and many an exclamation of +delight was uttered, not only in admiration of the lovely scenery around +them, but that they were so happily near the terminus of a journey, +which, despite the splendid appointments of the boat, was fraught with +danger, and occasioned more or less uneasiness and anxiety in the bosoms +of all the passengers. +</p> + +<p> +Apart from the crowd, leaning over the balustrade, her dark eyes riveted +on the lovely prospect passing before her vision, stood a young girl of +perhaps fifteen summers. Her form was slight, and a profusion of black, +wavy ringlets floated over her small shoulders, while in all her +movements was visible that singularly beautiful grace of motion, ever so +attractive, and which is noticed only in very finely-constituted +organizations. She stood apart from the hilarious groups around her, +evidently +</p> + + +<div class="blockquote"><p>"In a shade of thoughts that were not their thoughts."</p></div> + +<p> +Her simple grace and self-possession, and the indifference manifested to +the flattering attentions bestowed upon her by the gentlemen during the +voyage, had rendered her an object of peculiar interest with them, and +provoked no small amount of envy and invidious remark from the weaker +sex. +</p> + +<p> +"Look there," remarked a freckled-faced lady in blue and yellow, to a +counterpart in red and green; "see Miss Pink o' Propriety, as the +captain calls her, standing out there alone, to attract some gentleman's +notice." +</p> + +<p> +"Of course," returned miss red and green, sneeringly. "I hate that girl, +she puts on such airs. And travelling alone, in charge of the captain +and clerk, shows what she is plainly. There, look! The bait has +taken,—Mr. Gilbert is caught!" and the rainbow ladies joined in a loud +laugh, as a fine-looking gentleman approached the fair, abstracted girl, +and accosted her. +</p> + +<p> +"Always flying your crowd of admirers," said he, "and hiding in some sly +nook. Please tell me some of your pretty thoughts, as we glide past this +lovely scenery, Miss Orville." +</p> + +<p> +"The recital of my poor thoughts would not repay you for listening," +said the young lady, with a pleasant smile. +</p> + +<p> +"Now I may consider myself dismissed, I suppose," remarked the +gentleman; "but if you don't tolerate me, you'll have to some other of +my sex; for naught so charms us contradictory human bipeds as +indifference to our gracious attentions, and we always pay our most +assiduous court where it receives the smallest consideration." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, if you choose to remain and entertain me with your company—" +commenced the fair girl. +</p> + +<p> +"I can do so, but you prefer to be alone," interrupted the young man; +"is not that what you would say?" +</p> + +<p> +"As you have been pleased to give expression to my unexpressed thoughts, +I'll abide by your decision," she remarked quietly. +</p> + +<p> +The gentleman bade her good-evening, and walked away, looking somewhat +chagrined by his easy dismissal. On the fore-deck he found the clerk of +the boat. +</p> + +<p> +"I've just come from Miss Orville," he said, falling into step with the +latter. "You are a lucky fellow, Mr. Clerk, to have such a lovely being +entrusted to your care." +</p> + +<p> +"She is a sweet young lady, indeed," said the clerk. "I was never +trusted with a charge in which I felt more interest." +</p> + +<p> +"No wonder. Half the gentlemen on the boat are in love with her, and she +is so mercilessly indifferent to all their blandishments! Yet she is of +an age to love flattery and adulation." +</p> + +<p> +"She appears like one whose heart is preöccupied," remarked the clerk. +</p> + +<p> +"But she is too young for that to be the case, I would suppose." +</p> + +<p> +"Love is restricted to no particular age." +</p> + +<p> +"She is from the north, too, and the maidens of those cold climes are +less susceptible to the influence of the tender passion than the +daughters of our sunny shores," pursued Gilbert. +</p> + +<p> +"Less susceptible it may be," answered the clerk, "but once enkindled, +the flame seldom flickers or grows dim. Northern hearts are slow to wake +and hard to change. I was raised in Yankee land, Gilbert, and should +know something of Yankee girls." +</p> + +<p> +"True, true; but where do you say this young lady is going?" +</p> + +<p> +"To New Orleans." +</p> + +<p> +"And do you know where she will stop in the city?" +</p> + +<p> +"At the residence of her uncle, Esq. Camford." +</p> + +<p> +"Possible? I know that family well." +</p> + +<p> +"Indeed," remarked the clerk; "then you may have an opportunity to +pursue your acquaintance with Miss Orville, in whom you seem to feel +more than ordinary interest." +</p> + +<p> +"Why, yes," said Gilbert, "I believe I'm in love with her at present; +but then I don't make so serious a matter of a heart affair as many do." +</p> + +<p> +Gilbert was a wealthy southern planter, of rather easy, dissolute +habits, yet possessed of some redeeming points. +</p> + +<p> +"With good luck we shall hail the Crescent City to-morrow," remarked the +clerk, at length, as he stood regarding the speed of the boat with +admiring gaze. +</p> + +<p> +"Say you so?" exclaimed Gilbert. "I must have a last game of euchre +to-night, then;" and he hurried into the saloon to make up a party. +</p> + +<p> +"Hilloa, Reams!" said he to a foppish-looking fellow, lying at length on +a rosewood sofa, intent on the pages of a yellow-covered volume which he +held above his perfumed head; "come, have done with 'Ten Thousand a +Year,' and let us have a last game of cards. We shall be in New Orleans +to-morrow, so here's our last chance on <i>la belle</i> Eclipse." +</p> + +<p> +"O, give over your game!" yawned the indolent Reams. "I'm better +employed, as you see." +</p> + +<p> +"No!" returned Gilbert, "I'll not give over; if you won't play, I can +find enough that will. You are a cowardly chap, Reams; because you lost +a few picayunes last night, you are afraid to try your luck again. +Where's that young fellow, Morris?" +</p> + +<p> +"What, the handsome lad from old Tennessee?" said Reams, languidly +passing his taper fingers through his lavender-moistened locks; "he will +never hear of any cards save wedding ones tied with white satin, for he +has been for the last half hour on the guards in earnest conversation +with that pretty Miss Orville." +</p> + +<p> +"The deuce he has!" exclaimed Gilbert with a blank expression, as he +walked away with a hasty step, leaving Reams to adjust himself to his +book again. He soon collected a group of card-players and sat down to +his game; while young Wayland Morris and sweet Alice Orville promenaded +the hurricane deck, and admired the beautiful scenery through which they +were gliding, from the lofty pilot-house, conversing with the ease and +freedom of old acquaintances; for thus ever do kindred souls recognize +and flow into each other wherever they chance to meet in this fair world +of ours. +</p> + + + + +<p class="chapter"> +CHAPTER II. +</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>"My mistress hath most trembling nerves;</p> +<p>The buzz of a musquito doth alarm her so,</p> +<p>She straightway falleth into frightful fits."</p></div></div><br> + + +<p> +It was the dinner hour at the splendid mansion of Esq. Camford, the +silver service duly laid on the marble dining-table, the heavy curtains +drooped before the broad, oriel windows, and an odor of orange flowers +pervading the apartment as the light breeze lifted their silken folds. +Colored servants, in snowy jackets and aprons, stood erect and prim in +their respective places, awaiting the entrance of their master's family +and guests. At length there was a bustle in the hall, and a loud, burly +voice heard exclaiming, +</p> + +<p> +"Here, Thisbe, you black wench, run and tell your mistress to come into +the drawing-room in all haste. Here's an arrival; her niece, Miss +Orville, just in on the Eclipse. I was down on the levee, to see to the +consignment of my freight, and run afoul of her. Run, you nigger, and +tell her to come here quick." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, massa," and off patted the woman to impart the summons, while +Alice stood indeterminate on her uncle's threshold. +</p> + +<p> +The servant plodded up a long pair of stairs, and tapped thrice at the +door of an apartment, e'er she was bid in a peevish voice to "come along +in, and not stand there foolin'." The woman entered timidly. +</p> + +<p> +"What do you want with me?" snarled the fine lady from the depths of a +cushioned chair, her white fingers playing with a richly-wrought Spanish +fan. +</p> + +<p> +"Massa says come down in the drawin'-room to see a nice young lady, Miss +Orful, or some sich name, what's just come on the 'Clipse, that signed +away all massa's freight," said the woman with a profound courtesy. +</p> + +<p> +"What gibberish is this?" said the lady, in fretful humor; "go and tell +your master to come here this moment. I declare, my nerves are all +a-tremble, and my life is worried out of me by these stupid niggers. Get +out of my sight, and do my bidding!" +</p> + +<p> +The servant disappeared instanter through the door. +</p> + +<p> +"Where is your mistress?" bawled Esq. Camford, when she reäppeared in +the hall. +</p> + +<p> +"She says you must come to her this minute, for she is e'en-amost +nervousy to death," answered poor Thisbe, in a shaking voice. +</p> + +<p> +"Come to her? Thunder and Mars! didn't you tell her her niece was here +waiting a welcome?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, massa. I tell her there was a nice young lady here, what come on +de 'Clipse." +</p> + +<p> +"O, Lord! these fidgety women!" exclaimed Esq. Camford, impatiently. "I +hope you are not one of the sort, are you, Miss Orville? But come into +the parlor here, while I go up and rouse your aunt." +</p> + +<p> +"I hope, if she is sick, you will not disturb her on my account," said +Alice, somewhat alarmed at the commotion her arrival had occasioned. +</p> + +<p> +"Thunder! she is not sick, I'll wager; that is, no sicker than she deems +it necessary to be to produce an effect. I'm anxious you should behold +your cousins,—four in all; three youngest at school. They'll be home at +dinner, and it is already past the usual hour. Thunder! is dinner ready, +Thisbe?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, massa, and a waitin' mighty long time too." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, as I was saying, you must see your cousins, Jack, Josephine and +Susette. Our oldest daughter is over to Mobile for a few weeks. Pheny is +about your age, and you'll be great friends, no doubt; that is, if you +can romp and flop about pretty smart; but I must go for your aunt." +</p> + +<p> +Here an exclamation of "Mercy, mercy!" called the esquire's attention, +and he beheld his amiable consort sinking aghast, with uplifted hands on +a sofa in the hall. "Law, Nabby, what's the matter now?" said he, going +toward her leisurely enough, as though he were accustomed to such +scenes. +</p> + +<p> +"O, Adolphus Camford! what wench is that you have been sitting beside on +my embroidered ottoman? Answer me quick, for the love of Heaven! I will +not say for the love you bear me, as it is evident by your conduct that +you have ceased to regard me with a spice of affection," exclaimed the +fair lady, in a tone of trembling excitement. +</p> + +<p> +"Good, now, Nabby, good! A scene enacted on the arrival of our little +up-country cousin, Ally Orville;" and the esquire roared with laughter. +Alice heard all, and wondered what she had come among. +</p> + +<p> +The lady, nothing appeased by this explanation, as soon as she had taken +breath, burst forth again. "And you dared take the girl, in her dirty, +disordered travelling garb, into the drawing-room! Adolphus Camford, I'm +horrified beyond expression! Here, Thisbe, run and bundle the thing off +to her room before any one sees her. And to come just at our fashionable +dinner-hour too!" +</p> + +<p> +"Fuss and feathers, is that the child's fault? She came when the boat +did, of course. I was down there after my freight, and found her; she +seemed a mighty favorite with all on board, I assure you, and a handsome +young fellow rode up in the carriage with us, to mark her residence, +that he might call on her." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, and our house will be overrun by hoosiers, and all sorts of +gawkins, no doubt. But take this girl out of sight, Thisbe. You can +carry some dinner to her room if she wishes any." +</p> + +<p> +"Thunder and Mars! She is your own brother's child; ain't you going to +let her come to the table with the family?" +</p> + +<p> +"Perhaps so, at a proper time. When I have seen her, and considered +whether she is a suitable personage for my jewel daughters to have for a +companion." +</p> + +<p> +"Why, didn't she come here more by your invitation than mine? for she +was well enough off at home, but, because she was the only child of your +deceased brother, you wanted to do something for her, and so sent for +her to come here, and finish her education at your expense, where she +could receive more fashionable polish than in a country town, away up in +Ohio; and as to her looks, just step into the parlor and see for +yourself." +</p> + +<p> +"O, where is she?" he exclaimed, finding the room vacant in which Alice +had been seated a few moments before. +</p> + +<p> +"I sent Thisbe to take her off," replied Mrs. Camford; "here are the +children; my brilliant son, my jewel daughters. I declare my nerves are +so shaken I feel quite incapacitated to preside at the dinner-table." +</p> + +<p> +"Pshaw, Nabby," said the blunt husband, "come along. I'll risk you to +despatch your usual quantity of lobster salad and roasted steak." +</p> + +<p> +"Adolphus, you shock me," faltered the delicate little lady, of a good +two hundred pounds' weight, as she hung to her lord's stalwart arm and +entered the dining saloon. +</p> + +<p> +"My darling children, assume your seats at table. Billy and Cato, unfold +their napkins. Adolphus, you see we have chops for dinner." +</p> + +<p> +Delivering herself of this flowery speech, the lady sank exhausted into +the high-backed chair that was held in readiness by the officious +waiter, and was shoved up to her proper place, the head of her sumptuous +table. +</p> + +<p> +The meal proceeded in silence, and all, even the delicate lady, did +ample justice to the chops, the entrées, and nicely-prepared side +dishes, as well as to the elegant dessert that followed in course. +</p> + + + + +<p class="chapter"> +CHAPTER III. +</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2">"She wound around her fingers</p> +<p class="i4">Her locks of jetty hair;</p> +<p class="i2">And brought them into graceful curl</p> +<p class="i4">About her forehead fair."</p></div></div><br> + + +<p> +Alice remained closeted in her little room, eating but a morsel of the +dinner brought her by Thisbe, till night-fall, when the woman again +appeared, and said, +</p> + +<p> +"Mistress says, if Miss Alice has made herself presentable, she can +attend her in the family sitting-room in half an hour." +</p> + +<p> +Alice bowed to this message, and said she would be pleased to meet her +aunt and cousins at the time specified. The woman paused a moment, and +then asked timidly, +</p> + +<p> +"Would not Miss Alice like a waitin'-maid sent to 'sist her in +dressin'?" +</p> + +<p> +"No, thank you," returned Alice, smiling. "I am accustomed to wait on +myself." +</p> + +<p> +The woman opened wide her shiny eyes, and exclaiming, "Massy! who ever +heard the like?" retired with a courtesy. +</p> + +<p> +Alice laughed quite heartily after she was gone. "The idea of a black +girl to help me put on a plain muslin frock, and twist my ringlets into +a little smoother curl!" said she. "I could array myself to meet a queen +in ten minutes." +</p> + +<p> +Thus speaking, she took from her trunk a snowy India muslin frock. It +fastened low over her finely-formed shoulders, and a chain of red coral +round her neck, with bracelets of the same material on her delicate +wrists, completed her toilet. With her own rare grace of motion, she +glided down the hall stairs, and into the presence of her aunt, who rose +from the soft-cushioned chair in which she had been reclining, with an +expression half terror, half anger, distorting her features. +</p> + +<p> +"Mercy, mercy! Another trial to my weak nerves!" she exclaimed. "Thisbe, +my nerve-reviver instantly!" +</p> + +<p> +The servant flew from the room, and returned with a small, silver-headed +vial, which the lady applied to her nostrils, and soon grew calm. +</p> + +<p> +Alice stood all the while dismayed at the confusion her sudden entrance +had occasioned, and the three cousins, perched on cushioned stools, +gazed on her with curious eyes. The aunt at length got sufficiently +revived to speak. +</p> + +<p> +"Now, Miss Orville, my long-since-departed brother's only child, advance +to embrace your affectionate aunt!" +</p> + +<p> +Alice came forward with a gentle, inimitable grace, and, extending her +hand, said, +</p> + +<p> +"How do you do, aunt? I am sorry to have made you so ill." +</p> + +<p> +"That is right, Miss Orville! you should be so. My nerves are delicate; +the least disturbance sets them all a tremble, and no one understands my +nerves; no one appreciates my nerves. Now I will present you to your +cousins. I call my daughters my three jewels. The eldest, and belle and +beauty, as we call her, is not at home, being in the city of Mobile at +present. Her name is Isadora Gabriella Celestina Camford. You will +behold her in due time, I trust. My second child is a son. I call him my +brilliant among my jewels. Daniel Henry Thomas Lewis John Camford come +forward to greet Miss Alice Orville." +</p> + +<p> +The lad thus called on, rose, stretched himself, and coming up to Alice +said, "How d'ye do, cous.?" +</p> + +<p> +The young girl received his extended hand kindly, and, after gazing for +the space of a full minute straight in her face, he resumed his seat. +</p> + +<p> +"Very well done, my brilliant son!" said the mother. "Next in order +comes my second jewel. Now Dulcinea Ophelia Ambrosia Josephine, my +adored remembrance of Don Quixote, Shakspeare, the Naiads, and the +mighty Napoleon, advance to greet your cousin!" +</p> + +<p> +And this living remembrance of the immortal dead sprang from her stool, +and, running to Alice, threw both arms round her neck, and, kissing her +on either cheek, exclaimed, "O, Cousin Alice! I'm glad you are come, for +now I shall have some one good-natured enough to talk to and go to +school with every day; for, by your pretty, angel-face, I know you are a +sweet-tempered thing." +</p> + +<p> +During this volubly-uttered harangue, the mother was making helpless +gestures to Thisbe for the nerve-reviver; but the graceless wench never +heeded one of them, so intently was she gazing with distended eyes and +gaping mouth on Miss Pheny's somewhat boisterous, but really +warm-hearted greeting of her Cousin Alice. Pheny was a universal +favorite among the servants, "for that she was a smilin', good-natured +young lady, and not a bit nervousy," as they declared. +</p> + +<p> +At length poor Mrs. Camford uttered a faint cry, which called Thisbe's +attention back to the spot from whence it never should have +strayed,—her mistress' cushioned chair,—and she rushed in a sort of +frenzy for the nerve-reviver, and applied it to the trembling lady's +nostrils; whereupon that delicately-constituted specimen of the genus +feminine uttered a stentorian shriek and flounced about the room like an +irate porcupine, greatly to the terror of Alice, who had never witnessed +such a scene before. But neither the brilliant son nor jewel daughters +seemed in the least alarmed, and in a few moments the mother regained +possession of her chair and senses, when her first act of sanity was to +hurl the bottle Thisbe had applied to her nostrils at the poor woman's +head with such force, that, had she not dodged the missile, it must have +inflicted a severe contusion. +</p> + +<p> +"There, you blundering black brute!" she exclaimed, "see if you'll bring +your master's hartshorn headache-dispenser again, when I send for my +nerve-reviver. The idea of a delicate woman like me having a bottle of +hartshorn bobbed under her nose! The wonder is I am not dead; yes, dead +by your hand, you brutal black nigger! But where was I in my +presentation? O, I recollect! That mad-cap girl, my second jewel, so +horrified me. I dare not yet refer to it lest my nerves become spasmodic +again. Pray excuse her, Miss Orville, and I will proceed to my youngest, +my infant-jewel! Eldora Adelaide Maria Suzette, greet your cousin, love, +as you ought." +</p> + +<p> +The child arose, made a stiff bend of her shoulders, and said, "I hope +to see you well, Miss Alice Orville." +</p> + +<p> +Alice returned her salute with a graceful courtesy, and all resumed +their seats. +</p> + +<p> +"Now," said Mrs. Camford, "this dreaded ceremony of presentation is +over, I hope we may get on well together. I'm desirous, Miss Orville, +that you should commence tuition at the seminary immediately. I shall +have no pains spared to afford you a fashionable education. As my +deceased brother's only child, I would have this much done at my own +expense. I always told Ernest, though he married a poor girl from the +north, and went off there to live with her, much against the wishes of +our parents, that I would never see a child of his suffer." +</p> + +<p> +"I have never suffered, madam!" said Alice, quickly. +</p> + +<p> +"For food and clothes I suppose not, Miss Orville," said Mrs. Camford, +loftily; "but my nerves are all shattered by this long confab, and I +will now retire, leaving you young people to cultivate each other's +acquaintance. Thisbe, carry me to my private apartment!" +</p> + +<p> +And Thisbe lifted her delicate mistress in her arms, and tugged her from +the room; an operation that reminded one, not of a "mountain laboring to +bring forth a mouse," but of a mouse laboring to bring forth a mountain. +</p> + +<p> +Days and weeks past by, and Alice was not so unhappy as she feared she +would be from her first experience. The "belle and beauty" returned from +the city of Mobile, under escort of Mr. Gilbert, who proved to be the +fair Celestina's <i>fiancée</i>. And Wayland Morris was a frequent +visitor. He often invited Alice to walk over different portions of the +city. There was an old ruinous French chateau to which they were wont to +direct their steps almost every Saturday evening when the weather was +pleasant; and to walk with Morris, gaze into his deep blue eyes, and +listen to his eloquent voice as he recited to her old tales and legends +of long ago from his well-stored, imaginative brain, was becoming more +than life to Alice. Perhaps she did not quite know it then. Whoever +knows the value of a blessing till it is withdrawn? Ah! and when we wake +some morning to find our hearts left desolate, how earnestly and +tearfully do we beg its return, with fervent promises never to drive it +from our bosoms, or scorn and slight it again! But does it ever come? +Alas, no! +</p> + + + + +<p class="chapter"> +CHAPTER IV. +</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>"O, know ye the land where the cypress and myrtle</p> +<p class="i2">Are emblems of deeds that are done in her clime,</p> +<p>Where the rage of the vulture, the love of the turtle,</p> +<p class="i2">Now melts into sorrow, now maddens to crime;</p> +<p>O, know ye the land of the cedar and vine,</p> +<p class="i2">Where the flowers ever blossom, the beams ever shine?"</p></div></div><br> + + +<p> +Bright, balmy, beautiful southern land! Alas, that amid all your +luxuriance of beauty, where the flowering earth smiles up to the far +sparkling azure, and all nature seems chanting delicious harmonies, that +man should here, as elsewhere, make the one discordant note! Frail, +grovelling, passion-blinded man! The noblest imperfection of God! When +will he be elevated to the standard for which the Maker designed him? +</p> + +<p> +It was early spring, and the "floating palace," Eclipse, had made many +pleasant trips between New Orleans and Louisville, since Alice Orville +stood on her guards and feasted her beauty-loving eyes on the delightful +river scenery. +</p> + +<p> +The magnificent boat was now at the levee in New Orleans, advertised to +sail on the morrow. All was a scene of confusion in her vicinity. +Freight and baggage tumbled over the decks, passengers hurrying on +board, carts, hacks and omnibuses rudely jostling one against another, +runners loudly vociferating for their respective boats, etc. At length a +young man made his way through the crowd to the clerk's office, booked +his name, and engaged passage for a small town in Tennessee. The clerk +glanced at the name, and, instantly extending a hand to the passenger, +exclaimed; "Ah, Mr. Morris, happy to meet you! I look in so many +different faces, yours did not strike me as familiar at first. How has +been your health, and how have you prospered since I saw you last? Now I +recollect you were on the boat when we brought the pretty young lady +down; Miss Orville, I think was her name. Is she yet in the city?" +</p> + +<p> +"I believe she is," answered Morris, in a tone meant to be careless. +</p> + +<p> +"Surrounded by enamored admirers, no doubt," remarked the clerk. "So you +are bound up the river, Morris?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, to visit my widowed mother in Tennessee; she is failing in health, +and sent for me to come to her." +</p> + +<p> +"Indeed; 'tis like a dutiful son to obey the summons. Will you return to +New Orleans?" +</p> + +<p> +"Such is my intention at present." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, make yourself comfortable here, and the Eclipse will set you off +at your stopping-place in two or three days," said the gentlemanly +clerk, dismissing his friend, as others thronged around for +accommodations. +</p> + +<p> +The sun sank behind the "Father of Waters," as before a small gray +cottage on the eastern shore of the mighty river, a young, fair-haired +girl stood watching its departing light. At length a boat came in view +round a winding curve, and the little maiden leaped up, clapped her +hands gleefully, and disappeared within the cottage. Onward came the +graceful boat, lashing the waters into foam with its swift-revolving +wheels. It neared the shore, made a brief halt, and then glided on its +way again. A young man bounded up the embankment, and the fair girl met +him on the lowly sill with open arms. "Dear sister Winnie, how you are +grown!" exclaimed he; "but lead me to mother quickly." +</p> + +<p> +"I will, I will, brother Wayland. She has talked of you all day long, +and feared you would not arrive in time to see her." +</p> + +<p> +"Ah! is she failing so rapidly, then?" said the young man, while a gloom +stole over his features. +</p> + +<p> +"O, not so very fast!" answered the child; "and now you are come, I dare +say she will soon be well again." +</p> + +<p> +He patted her cheek, and hurriedly entered his mother's apartment. She +was lying on an humble pallet, wan and emaciated to so fearful a degree, +that the son could hardly recognize the parent from whom he had parted +eight months before. +</p> + +<p> +"O, mother!" said he in sorrowful, reproachful accents; "why had you not +sent for me sooner?" +</p> + +<p> +"I have wanted for nothing, my boy," answered the invalid, in a husky +voice. "Your letters spoke of success, and hopes for the future; how +could I be so selfish as to call you away from prospects so fair, to +tend on a sick-bed?" +</p> + +<p> +The son was silent, and after a few moments' pause, she resumed: "Winnie +did all that could be done for me. But for a few weeks I've failed +faster than usual, and I could not bear to die without beholding my +darling boy once more. Besides, what was to become of Winnie, left alone +and unprotected?" +</p> + +<p> +"Do not speak so hopelessly, dear mother," said Wayland, tears gathering +in his eyes; "I trust with the advancing spring your health may +improve." +</p> + +<p> +The poor woman shook her head. Winnie came, and, putting her little arms +round her mother's neck, commenced sobbing bitterly. +</p> + +<p> +"Winnie! Winnie! you worry mother doing so," said Wayland, drawing her +away; "come now with me; I want to see your pretty fawn and pet kids." +</p> + +<p> +"O, brother! the white spots are all gone from Fanny's neck and sides, +and the kiddies' horns are grown so long I'm half afraid of them; but +come, I'll find them for you;" and the child, diverted from her tears, +seized her brother's hand to lead him forth in search of her playmates. +They were soon found, and after admiring and caressing them a few +moments, Wayland left his sister to frolic with them on the lawn, and +returned to his mother's side. +</p> + +<p> +They had a long, confidential conversation, in which the son imparted to +his affectionate parent a brief history of the past eight months. She +listened with eager interest to the rehearsal. When he mentioned Alice +Orville, she regarded his countenance with a fixed, searching +expression, and a faint smile stole over her pale, sad face; but when he +breathed the name of Camford, she started convulsively, and demanded his +Christian name. +</p> + +<p> +"Adolphus," answered Wayland, in amaze at her emotion. "He is Miss +Orville's uncle, and the wealthiest merchant in New Orleans." +</p> + +<p> +"'Tis the same," she murmured; "you were too young, my son, when your +father died, to have any recollection of the events which preceded his +death; but you have heard from me that he was hurried out of the world +by temporal misfortunes too great for his delicate, sensitive +temperament to endure. The sudden descent from affluence to poverty bore +him to the grave. And I have told you, Wayland, that by the hand of one +man, all this woe and suffering was brought upon us." +</p> + +<p> +"And who was that man, dear mother?" asked the youth, in an agitated +voice. +</p> + +<p> +"Adolphus Camford," answered she, trembling as she spoke the fatal name. +</p> + +<p> +"Is it possible?" exclaimed Wayland, starting to his feet. "Then may the +son avenge the father!" +</p> + +<p> +"Stop, my boy," said his mother; "I intended this revelation but as a +caution for you against your father's destroyer. 'Vengeance is mine, I +will repay,' saith the Lord. Promise that you will remember this, +Wayland, or I cannot die in peace." +</p> + +<p> +"I promise, mother," said the young man, bowing at the bed-side, and +leaning his head tenderly on her bosom. +</p> + + + + +<p class="chapter"> +CHAPTER V. +</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>"If there is anything I hate on earth,</p> +<p>It is a ranting, tattling, prattling jade,</p> +<p>Who gossips all day long, and fattens on</p> +<p>Her neighbors' foibles, and at night lies down</p> +<p>To dream some ghostly tale, and rises soon</p> +<p>To bawl it through the town as good and true."</p></div></div><br> + + +<p> +Hast ever attended a Ladies' Sewing Circle, reader, and witnessed the +benevolent proceedings of the matrons, spinsters, and young maidens, for +the poor, benighted heathen on the far-distant shores of Hindostan, or +the benighted millions who sit in the "region and shadow of death" on +the desert plains of Ethiopia? And while thou hast heard the lady +president plead so eloquently for those nations, who, groaning in their +self-forged chains, bow to the great Moloch of superstition and +idolatry, as to "draw tears of blood," as it were, from the eyes of her +rapt and devoted listeners, hast ever marked a pale, trembling child of +want totter to the door, and ask for the "crumbs that fall" from this +humane society's tea-table, and heard the answer, "Begone! this is a +benevolent association for the purpose of evangelizing the heathen, not +to feed lazy beggars at our own doors?" +</p> + +<p> +And has thy lips dared e'en to whisper, +</p> + +<div class="blockquote"><p> +"O for the charity that begins at home!" +</p></div> + +<p> +Well, the "Ladies' Literary Benevolent Combination for Foreign Aid" was +duly congregated at Mrs. Jane Rockport's, Pleasant-street, in the town +of Bellevue, on the western shore of Lake Erie. It was a rainy day,—as +days for the meeting of sewing circles most always are; though why +Heaven should strive to thwart benevolence is a point upon which we will +not venture an opinion. +</p> + +<p> +About twenty of the most zealous in the course of philanthropy, who no +doubt felt the wrongs of the suffering heathen impelling them to brave +the wind and rain, had assembled in Mrs. Rockport's parlor, and, after +hearing a hymn composed for the occasion by the Misses Gaddies, and +performed by the same interesting young ladies, and an appropriate +prayer by the president, Mrs. Stebbins, the work designed for the +present meeting was laid upon the table, and the several members of the +little company selected articles upon which to display their +benevolence, and scattered off in groups of two and three to different +parts of the room, while a low, incessant hum of voices struck the ear +from all quarters. It appeared the devoted ladies were exerting their +tongues as well as fingers in the good cause. +</p> + +<p> +"Now, do you suppose it is true?" asked Miss Jerusha Sharpwell, at +length, in a raised voice, with horror and amazement depicted on her +sharp-featured face. +</p> + +<p> +"Why, Susan Simpson told me that Dilly Hootaway told her that little +Nanny Dutton told her, 'Pa had got a nice lamb shut up in a pen, and +they were going to have it killed for Christmas,'" said Mrs. Dorothy +Sykes, in reply to her companion's startled exclamation. +</p> + +<p> +"Enough said," returned Miss Jerusha, with a toss of her tall head; "now +such things ought not to pass unnoticed, I say." +</p> + +<p> +This was uttered in so loud a tone that the attention of all in the room +was roused, and several voices demanded what was the matter. +</p> + +<p> +"Matter enough," said Miss Sharpwell; "that thievish Oliver Dutton has +stolen a sheep from the widow Orville." +</p> + +<p> +"La! have you just heard of it, sister Sharpwell?" exclaimed Mrs. +Fleetwood; "I knew it a week ago." +</p> + +<p> +"You did, did you?" said Mrs. Sykes; "why, it was only stolen last +night." +</p> + +<p> +"Perhaps Mr. Dutton has stolen two sheep," suggested Mrs. Aidy. +</p> + +<p> +"No doubt, no doubt," put in Miss Jerusha, much excited. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, ladies," observed Mrs. Milder, "as I am perfectly sure, I may +safely affirm that Mr. Dutton has stolen no sheep from Mrs. Orville." +</p> + +<p> +"How do you know he has not?" demanded Sykes and Sharpwell in a breath. +</p> + +<p> +"Because Mrs. Orville has no sheep," returned Mrs. Milder, quietly. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, now, was there ever such a place as this is coming to be? No one +can believe a thing unless they see it with their own eyes," exclaimed +Mrs. Sykes, in an indignant tone. "I'm sure I heard Dutton had got a +lamb for Christmas; and how could the poor critter come by it unless he +stole it somewhere; and as Mrs. Orville lives alone, I thought likely he +would take advantage of that, and steal it from her, for I didn't know +but what she kept sheep." +</p> + +<p> +"Very natural, Mrs. Sykes, that you should thus suppose," chimed in Miss +Jerusha. "No one questions your honor or veracity. But what were you +saying, Miss Gaddie? I thought you were speaking of Mrs. Orville's +daughter that went off south a year or two ago." +</p> + +<p> +"I was merely remarking that Mrs. Orville received a letter from Alice +last week, and sis, who used to be acquainted with her, called to +inquire after her welfare." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, what did she hear?" asked Miss Sharpwell. +</p> + +<p> +"Not much, did you, sis?" asked the elder Miss Gaddie of her younger +sister. +</p> + +<p> +"No, I didn't <i>hear</i> much, but I <i>see</i> enough," answered that +interesting miss. +</p> + +<p> +"Lord bless us, child!" exclaimed Miss Jerusha. "What did you see?" +</p> + +<p> +"Why, Mrs. Orville was blubbering like a baby when I entered, but she +tried to hush up after a while." +</p> + +<p> +"Mercy to me!" exclaimed Mrs. Sykes; "her daughter must be dead or come +to some awful disgrace away off there." +</p> + +<p> +"No, she is not dead," said Miss Gaddie, "for her mother said she was +well, and spoke of returning home next spring or summer." +</p> + +<p> +"O, dear! these young girls sent off alone in the world most always come +to some harm," said Miss Sharpwell, with a rueful expression of +countenance. +</p> + +<p> +"True, true, sister Jerusha," returned Mrs. Sykes, "what should I think +of sending my Henrietta off so?" +</p> + +<p> +"Sure enough, sister Sykes," said Miss Sharpwell. "We ought not, +however, to forsake our friends in adversity. Let us call on Mrs. +Orville, and sympathize in her affliction." +</p> + +<p> +"With all my heart, sister Jerusha. I am a mother, and can appreciate a +mother's feelings over a beloved child's downfall and disgrace," said +Mrs. Sykes, with a distressful expression of pity distorting her +countenance. +</p> + +<p> +And thus in the mint of the Ladies' Benevolent Society was cast, coined +and made ready for current circulation, the tale of poor Alice Orville's +imaginary shame and ruin. Yet faster flew those Christian ladies' +Christian fingers for the poor heathen, while they thus discussed the +slang and gossip of the village. +</p> + +<p> +At length the president arose, and said the hour for adjournment had +arrived. She complimented the ladies on their prompt attendance and +enthusiastic devotion to the good cause. "Who can tell the results that +may follow from this little gathering of Christian sisters on this dark, +rainy evening?" she exclaimed. "What mind can conceive the mighty +influence these seemingly insignificant articles your ready tact and +skill have put together, may exert on the heathen world? Even this +scarlet pin-cushion may save some soul from death 'mid the spicy groves +of Ceylon's isle." [Tremendous sensation, as the lady president waved +the pin-ball to and fro.] "But language would fail me to enumerate the +benefits this holy organization of Christians is destined to bestow on +benighted Pagandom. We will now listen to a hymn from the sisters +Gaddies, and adjourn to Wednesday next, at 2 o'clock, <span class="sc">P.M.</span>, at +the house of Mrs. Huldah Fleetfoot." +</p> + +<p> +The hymn was sung, and the "Ladies' Literary Benevolent Combination for +Foreign Aid" duly adjourned to the time and place aforementioned. +</p> + +<p> +We have seen that Miss Jerusha Sharpwell and Mrs. Dorothy Sykes had +agreed to call on Mrs. Orville, and condole with her on her daughter's +disgrace; but those benevolently-disposed ladies deemed it expedient to +call first at sundry places in the village and repeat the lamentable +tale, probably to increase the stock of sympathy; so Mrs. Orville heard +the sad story of her daughter's shame from several different sources, +ere these good ladies, their hearts overflowing with the "milk of human +kindness," came to sympathize in her affliction. +</p> + +<p> +She received them with her accustomed urbanity and politeness, while +they cast wondering glances toward each other; probably that they had +not found Mrs. Orville in hysterical tears. But Miss Sharpwell, nothing +daunted, and determined to sympathize, readily expressed her admiration +of Mrs. Orville's fortitude of mind, that she could support herself with +so much calmness, under so great an affliction. +</p> + +<p> +"I do not know as I quite understand you, Miss Sharpwell," remarked Mrs. +Orville, in a calm tone, and fixing her clear eyes steadily on her +visitor's face. "I have experienced no severe affliction of late. I have +lost no sheep, as I had none to lose." +</p> + +<p> +"La! then that was all a flyin' story about Dutton's stealing your +lamb," broke in Mrs. Sykes. "Well, I'm glad to find it so; but I wonder +where the poor critter <i>did</i> get it?" +</p> + +<p> +"I can enlighten you on that point," said Mrs. Orville; "Mrs. Milder +presented him with it for a Christmas dinner." +</p> + +<p> +"<i>She</i> did?" exclaimed Miss Sharpwell. "Why couldn't she have said +so at the sewing society, the other day, then, when we were talking +about it, and thus settled the matter in all our minds? I hate this sly, +underhanded work. But we must not forget our errand, sister Sykes." +</p> + +<p> +"By no means," observed the latter. "Dear Mrs. Orville, we are come to +sympathize with you in a far greater affliction than the loss of a sheep +would prove—the loss of a daughter's fair fame." +</p> + +<p> +"You grow more and more enigmatical," said Mrs. Orville, smiling; "my +daughter has lost neither her health nor fair fame, as you express it. I +received a letter from her last week. She was well, and purposes to +return home the coming summer." +</p> + +<p> +"Why, goodness, is it so?" exclaimed Sykes; "we heard as how you had +awful news of Alice, and were well-nigh distracted about her." +</p> + +<p> +"I heard a report to that effect," said Mrs. Orville; "but whence it +originated I cannot say. It has no foundation in truth." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, what an awful wicked place this is getting to be! I declare it +makes my blood run cold to think of it," said Miss Jerusha, with a pious +horror depicted on her countenance. +</p> + +<p> +"And religious prayer-meetings kept up, and a Christian sewing circle in +the place too," added Mrs. Sykes. "I declare wickedness is increasing to +a fearful extent. We must be going, sister Jerusha. I declare I can +hardly sit still, I feel so for the sinners of this village." +</p> + +<p> +"Mrs. Orville, I am glad the stories reported concerning your daughter +are false, for <i>your</i> sake," said Miss Sharpwell, as the sympathetic +ladies rose to depart; but she added, in her most emphatic tone, "I +tremble for the sakes of those who put those stories in circulation. +Good-day, my friend." +</p> + + + + +<p class="chapter"> +CHAPTER VI. +</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i2">"I tell you I love him dearly,</p> +<p class="i4">And he loves me well I know;</p> +<p class="i2">It seems as if I could nearly</p> +<p class="i4">Eat him up, I love him so."</p></div></div><br> + + +<p> +"Well, sis, how do you like New Orleans?" asked Wayland Morris of his +sister Winnie, as he entered her quiet little study-chamber one evening +after the toil of the day was over. +</p> + +<p> +"O, I like it well enough, Wayland," she answered; "that is, I like my +boarding-place here with Mrs. Pulsifer, I like my dear, kind teacher, +Aunt Debby, and I like my playmates." +</p> + +<p> +"And is there anything you do not like, my sister?" asked Wayland, +observing she hesitated. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, two things." +</p> + +<p> +"What are they?" +</p> + +<p> +"First, I don't like to have you work so hard to support me in +idleness." +</p> + +<p> +"In idleness, Winnie?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, or what is just the same thing, I mean earning nothing to support +myself. I could learn some trade, and thus obtain money sufficient for +all my wants, and give you some, too, if you would but let me do it." +</p> + +<p> +"My brave little sis," said Wayland, drawing her to his bosom, "have I +not told you that when you have acquired an education, you can become a +teacher, which will surely prove an occupation more congenial to your +taste, and by it you can gain an ample competence for all immediate +necessities?" +</p> + +<p> +"But it will take a great deal of money to procure an education," said +Winnie, looking doubtfully in her brother's face. +</p> + +<p> +"Not a very great deal, my prudent little sis," laughed Wayland, "and I +can easily furnish you with the sum needful." +</p> + +<p> +"And, when I'm a teacher, will you let me repay all you have expended on +me?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, yes, if that will put your mind at rest." +</p> + +<p> +"Ah, but I fear it will be beyond my power to repay <i>all</i> you are +expending on your foolish little sis! You are growing thin and pale, +brother, and you have none of the joyous spring and laughter with which +you used to chase my pretty fawns away up there on the green shores of +Tennessee." +</p> + +<p> +"I am older and graver now, Winnie; besides, I often think of our dear +mother, sleeping there in death's embrace, and of our being orphans in +the wide world." +</p> + +<p> +"O, it is very sad, brother!" said the young girl, bursting into tears. +</p> + +<p> +"Do not weep so bitterly," said Wayland, endeavoring to soothe her +grief; "you said there were two things you did not like. I have +dispensed with one; now tell me the other." +</p> + +<p> +"O, never mind that now!" said Winnie, quickly; "assist me in my Algebra +lesson, there's a good brother." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, after you have told me what I have asked." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, it is a foolish thing, you will say. You know Jack Camford?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes; do you?" inquired Wayland in surprise. +</p> + +<p> +"He comes to our school this term," said Winnie, demurely. +</p> + +<p> +"And he is the other thing you do not like, is he?" +</p> + +<p> +"Why, no, brother; he is not a thing, is he?" +</p> + +<p> +"Well, perhaps not; but what is it you do not like?" +</p> + +<p> +"Why, I don't like to have the girls tease me, and say he comes to our +school just to see me," said Winnie, averting her face. +</p> + +<p> +Wayland's brow darkened at these words, and he was some time silent. +</p> + +<p> +"Are you angry, brother?" asked Winnie at length. +</p> + +<p> +"No, Winnie, not angry, but pained. My sister, this young Camford is not +a fit person for you to associate with." +</p> + +<p> +"Why not?" exclaimed Winnie. +</p> + +<p> +Wayland gazed in her face, and felt it was time to speak. "Winnie, would +you have for a friend the son of a man who robbed your father of his +fortune and hurried him into the grave?" +</p> + +<p> +She was silent. "Adieu now, sister," continued Wayland, "I will call and +see you to-morrow evening," and with a tender kiss on the soft cheek, he +left her in her first young, girlish love-sorrow. Bitterly she charged +him with cold, unfeeling cruelty; for she intuitively perceived the +drift of those few words. "But was her poor Jack to suffer for his +father's errors? No; thrice no! and she longed to lay her head on his +bosom and tell him all her sorrows, for he was not stern and cruel, like +brother Wayland. No, he loved her dearly, as she loved him." +</p> + +<hr class="short"> + +<p> +"Thunder and Mars! what's to pay now, I wonder?" exclaimed Esq. Camford, +rushing pell-mell into the dining room, where his family were assembled +at breakfast, and throwing his delicate wife into hysterics. +</p> + +<p> +"O, Thisbe! run for the nerve-reviver," shrieked Mrs. Camford. "O, +Adolphus! why will you not regard my tremulous nerves, and not affright +me thus? What desperate thing has happened? O, Adolphus! you'll be the +death of me." +</p> + +<p> +"I'll be the death of that cursed young vagabond, John Camford," blurted +forth the squire, in a tone of terrible rage. +</p> + +<p> +"O, my son, my brilliant among my jewels! how has he incurred your +displeasure?" faintly articulated Mrs. Camford. +</p> + +<p> +"Why, I saw the graceless scamp tugging a girl through the French market +this morning, filling her hands with bouquets and all sorts of +fol-de-rols. There is where the money goes he wheedles out of me every +week; but I'll fix the young rapscallion. Next thing, we shall have some +creole girl, or mulatto wench introduced to the family as Mrs. Camford, +junior." +</p> + +<p> +The squire fairly foamed at the mouth, with anger. His fair consort was +in frantic hysterics, beating the floor with her heels, and exclaiming, +</p> + +<p> +"O, mercy, mercy! my son, my Daniel, Henry, Thomas, Lewis, John! my +brilliant, among my jewels! O, spare him for the love of Heaven, my +husband, my adored Adolphus!" +</p> + +<p> +Thisbe was following her mistress and bobbing the nerve-reviver to her +nose, but it failed to produce the usual effect. All the servants in +attendance stood with their mouths agape, while the three jewel +daughters proceeded quietly with their breakfast, and Alice sat among +them, a silent spectator of the scene. And now, as if to cap the climax, +in walked the culprit, Mr. Jack Camford, in <i>propria persona</i>, +looking as unconcerned and innocent as if nothing had occurred to +displace him in his father's good graces. At sight of her brilliant son, +Mrs. Camford shrieked and fell prostrate on the floor, and Thisbe, in +the moment of excitement, seized the senseless form and carried it from +the room with as much ease as she would have borne a cotton-bale. No +sooner had the door closed on his delicate spouse, than Esq. Camford +bellowed forth, "Daniel Henry Thomas Lewis John Camford, you rascal, +come and stand before your father!" The son instantly did as commanded. +Doffing his "Kossuth," and passing one hand through the long locks of +curling black hair, he swept it away from his clear, smooth brow, and +stood confronting his wrathful parent with a calm, unembarrassed aspect. +He was certainly a handsome young fellow, and Winnie Morris was quite +excusable for loving him a little in her girlish heart. The father's +anger softened as he gazed on his fair-looking boy, and when he spoke, +his voice had lost all its former harshness. +</p> + +<p> +"Jack, my lad," he said, "why do you stand gazing about you thus? Come, +and sit down to your breakfast." +</p> + +<p> +"You bade me stand before you, father, therefore I did so," said the +son, now approaching the table and assuming a seat beside his cousin +Alice. +</p> + +<p> +There were a few moments of silence, during which all were occupied with +their meal. At length Esq. Camford inquired, casually enough, "Jack, +what young lady was that I saw you with in the French market this +morning?" +</p> + +<p> +Jack, at the moment helping Alice to a snipe, answered carelessly, +"Young lady? O, Miss Winnie Morris, sister of Wayland Morris, editor of +our Literary Gazette." +</p> + +<p> +Alice suddenly dropped her bird on the cloth, and Esq. Camford sprang +from the table, and, seizing his hat, bolted from the apartment, +overturning two servants in his way, and exclaiming at the top of his +voice, "Thunder and Mars! Thunder and Mars!" +</p> + +<p> +Jack burst into a hearty laugh as his father cleared the door, and said, +"Was there ever a theatre could equal our house for enacting scenes? +Why, Alice, where are you going?" he continued, observing her rise from +the table; "stay a moment; will you be disengaged when I come in to +dinner? I want a few moments' private conversation with you." +</p> + +<p> +"I shall be at your service, cousin," she answered, closing the door +behind her. +</p> + +<p> +"What have you to say to Alice?" inquired Miss Celestina, the "belle and +beauty," in a querulous tone; picking at a bunch of flowers that laid +beside Josephine's plate. +</p> + +<p> +"O, please don't spoil my flowers, sister!" said Miss Pheny; "they were +sent to me this morning by a particular friend." +</p> + +<p> +"Faugh! what particular friend have <i>you</i> got, I wonder?" sneered +the beauty; "some foolish love affair afoot here, to rival Jack's, I +suppose. Ha, ha! what silly things children are! But come, bubby, tell +me what you want with Alice?" +</p> + +<p> +"That's my business," returned the youth proudly. +</p> + +<p> +"To talk about your sweetheart, no doubt, and solicit her sympathy in +your love troubles. You'll find father won't have you toting about with +this beggar girl, I can tell you!" said the fair Celestina, spitefully. +</p> + +<p> +"She is not a beggar," retorted Jack with flashing eyes, "but a far more +beautiful and accomplished lady than many who have had the best +advantages of fashionable society." +</p> + +<p> +"O, of course, she is all perfection in your eyes at present," returned +the beauty in an aggravating tone, as she rose to retire; "but this day +six months I wonder how she will appear to your fickle, capricious +gaze?" +</p> + +<p> +"If you were worth a retort, I'd make one," said Jack, with a glance of +angry contempt on his sister, as he took his cap and left the apartment. +</p> + + + + +<p class="chapter"> +CHAPTER VII. +</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>"Thy haunting influence, how it mocks</p> +<p class="i2">My efforts to forget!</p> +<p>The stamp love only seals but once</p> +<p class="i2">Upon my heart is set."</p></div></div><br> + + +<p> +Winnie Morris was laying her pretty head on her kind teacher's shoulder, +and pleading, O, so eloquently, with her sweet lips and eyes! +</p> + +<p> +"Indeed, I want to go very much, dear Aunt Debby, and Jack will be so +disappointed if you say no. He sent me to plead, because he said nobody +could resist me. Will you not let me go this once, if I'll promise never +to ask again?" +</p> + +<p> +"The theatre is not a fit place for young girls," said the teacher, with +a serious mien; "by going there they obtain false ideas of life." +</p> + +<p> +"But I won't, Aunt Debby, I'm sure I won't, by going just once." +</p> + +<p> +The good-natured teacher patted the soft cheek of her winsome pleader, +and the gentle act seemed to convince the child that she was gaining her +point. +</p> + +<p> +"O, Debby, Debby!" she exclaimed, throwing her white arms round the good +woman's neck; "you will let me go with Jack to-night, I know." +</p> + +<p> +"For which do you most wish to go: to see the play, or to be with him?" +asked Debby, still delaying the wished-for permission. +</p> + +<p> +"O, to be with him!" answered Winnie; "and I could not be with him +unless I went out somewhere, for brother Wayland is cross at Jack; only +think of it—cross at my Jack! And he asks Mrs. Pulsifer whenever Jack +comes to see me, and then scolds; or not exactly that,—but says I ought +not to associate with a person he does not approve, and that Jack is +wild and unsteady, and won't love me long; but he doesn't know him as +well as I do, or he wouldn't say so, I'm sure;" and Winnie grew +eloquent, and her cheeks flushed vermilion red, while she spoke of her +girlish love. But Miss Deborah's face had assumed a less yielding +expression during her fair pupil's recital. +</p> + +<p> +"So it appears your brother is not pleased with young Mr. Camford," she +remarked, as Winnie ceased; "under the circumstances, you must apply to +him for permission to accompany Master Jack to the theatre." +</p> + +<p> +"O, dear! I wish I had not said a word," sobbed Winnie. "'Tis no use to +go to Wayland, for I know he would refuse my request; so I may as well +make up my mind to pass the evening alone in my room. I'm more sorry for +Jack, after all, than myself, he will be so sadly disappointed. +Good-night, Aunt Debby," and with dejected aspect the young girl put on +her little straw hat and left the school-room. +</p> + +<p> +The evening stole on, and Jack Camford was beside his cousin Alice, in +her quiet apartment. +</p> + +<p> +"I don't see why Wayland Morris should hate me so inveterately, as to +forbid his sister to receive any calls from me," remarked the youth, +bitterly. +</p> + +<p> +"How do you know he does so?" inquired Alice, without raising her eyes +from the German worsted pattern on which she was occupied. +</p> + +<p> +"Because Winnie told me so, to-night. I had invited her to attend the +theatre, but it appears she dared not ask her brother's permission, for +fear of a refusal," said Jack, in a troubled tone. "You are acquainted +with Mr. Morris, Alice?" +</p> + +<p> +"No," returned she, quickly. +</p> + +<p> +"Why, he calls on you." +</p> + +<p> +"He did call at the house once or twice, soon after my arrival here, I +believe." +</p> + +<p> +"Once or twice!" exclaimed Jack, in surprise; "why, he was here almost +every day for several months, and we all thought you were declared +lovers." +</p> + +<p> +"Hush, Jack! how you are running on!" said Alice, with a flushed +countenance. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, don't tell me you are not acquainted with young Morris, then," +returned Jack. +</p> + +<p> +"I have not seen him, as you are aware, for the last six months," +remarked Alice. +</p> + +<p> +"But you <i>could</i> see him very easily." +</p> + +<p> +"So could you." +</p> + +<p> +"Ah, Alice! I thought you would do me so small a favor." +</p> + +<p> +"As what?" +</p> + +<p> +"See Mr. Morris, and ascertain why he opposes my addresses to his +sister." +</p> + +<p> +"Is he the only one who opposes you?" +</p> + +<p> +"You allude to my family; but not one of them should control me, in this +matter, if I could win her from her brother." +</p> + +<p> +"You are very young, Jack; wait a few years, and your feelings will +change." +</p> + +<p> +The boy looked on his cousin as she uttered these words with so much +apparent indifference, and exclaimed: +</p> + +<p> +"O, Alice! you have never loved, or you could not talk thus to me," and +hurriedly left the apartment. +</p> + +<p> +Alice heard him rush down the hall stairs and into the street. "Poor +Jack!" she sighed; "but what could I do for him? To place myself before +Wayland Morris, and plead my cousin's suit with his sister, when +probably the very cause of his objection to their acquaintance is that +the lover is a relation of mine; and it appears that by some +misapprehension I have as unwittingly as unfortunately incurred his +displeasure. What other reason can there be for the cessation of his +visits, but that he does not desire to see me?" +</p> + +<p> +Ay, what other indeed, Alice? If you would have Wayland's love, there +could not be a stronger proof that 'tis yours, than this apparent +neglect and forgetfulness. Love joys in mystery, +</p> + +<div class="poemtext"> +<div class="stanzatext"> +<p>"Shows most like hate e'en when 'tis most in love,</p> +<p>And when you think 'tis countless miles away,</p> +<p>Is lurking close at hand."</p></div></div> + +<p> +So, be not too sad, Ally, dear, when the brave steamboat bears you up +the majestic Mississippi, and far onward over the beautiful Ohio, amid +her wild, enchanting scenery, and the dashing railroad cars at length +set you down on a quiet summer evening at your mother's rural threshold. +Try hard to say, "I have forgotten Wayland Morris;" but your heart will +rebel; and try harder to say, "I shall never behold his face again;" +still "hope will tell a flattering tale;" and try hardest of all to +exclaim, "I'll fly his presence forever." But yet, away down low in your +beating bosom, a little voice will love to tantalize and whisper—"Will +you, though?" +</p> + + + + +<p class="chapter"> +CHAPTER VIII. +</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>"Come, clear the stage and give us something new,</p> +<p class="i2">For we are tired to death with these old scenes."</p></div></div><br> + + +<p> +Night after night, high up in the sky, the stars shone wildly bright, +but the heaven refused its grateful showers and the earth lay parched to +a cinder beneath the blazing sunbeams. The mighty Mississippi shrunk +within its banks to the size of a mere wayside rivulet, and the long +lines of boats lay lazily along the levees. No exchange of produce or +merchandise could be effected between the upper and lower regions of the +great Mississippi valley, and the consequence was universal depression +in trade and heavy failures. Esquire Camford went among the first in the +general crash, and his fair consort's nerves went also. The +nerve-reviver failed to produce the least soothing effect in this +dreadful emergency, and she sank into a bed-ridden ghost of hysteria, +with Thisbe for her constant attendant, to minister to her numerous +wants, and feed her with lobsters' claws and Graham crackers, which +constituted her sole food and nourishment. +</p> + +<p> +As for the "belle and beauty," she, on a day, married Mr. Gilbert, in +pearl-colored satin, and that gentleman chancing to overturn a +sherry-cobbler on the fair bride's robe, the delicate creature went into +a nervous paroxysm, which so alarmed and terrified the happy bridegroom, +that, when he recovered his senses, he found himself on the far, blue +ocean, with the adorable Celestina's marriage-portion, consisting of the +snug sum of fifty thousand dollars, wrapped up in a blue netting-purse +in his coat pocket. How the great bank-bills grinned at him, as if to +charge him with the wanton robbery and desertion! He gazed around in a +bewildered manner, and the first face that met his eye was that of his +brother-in-law, Jack Camford, who advanced with a woeful smile +distorting his fine features, and exclaimed, +</p> + +<p> +"Upon my word, you're a lucky dog, Gilbert!" +</p> + +<p> +"How so?" demanded the latter. +</p> + +<p> +"To have married my sister the day before father failed, and thus +secured a pretty fair sum of money; and now to have escaped a tedious +wife and got safely off with it in your pocket," said Jack, with a +theatrical flourish of manner. +</p> + +<p> +"But what does all this mean? Why are you here, and where is this ship +bound?" +</p> + +<p> +"Well, I'm here—hum—I don't know why, save that life was intolerable +at home after the smash-up, and Winnie Morris heard I was getting wild, +and turned a cold shoulder on me, I fancied. As to this craft, that +reels and tumbles about like a reef of drunkards, she is bound for +Australia; so I suppose, in due time, you and I will be landed on the +shores of the golden Ophir, if we don't get turned into Davy Jones' +locker by some mishap." +</p> + +<p> +"Australia!" exclaimed Gilbert, "what the deuce am I going there for; +and how came I in this place?" +</p> + +<p> +"All I know is, I found you here asleep when I came aboard, and here you +have been asleep for the last three days, wearing off the effects of +your wedding-feast, I suppose. I thought best not to disturb you, as at +sea one may as well be sleeping as waking." +</p> + +<p> +"But, Jack Camford! I cannot go to Australia," said Gilbert, still half +confounded. +</p> + +<p> +"How are you going to avoid it?" asked Jack, laughing. +</p> + +<p> +"True! but what will my bride say? Here I hold her fortune in my hand." +</p> + +<p> +"Exactly! Divide it with me, if you please, and we'll increase it +four-fold e'er a year in the golden land." +</p> + +<p> +"But I don't like the idea of going to Australia!" pursued Gilbert. +</p> + +<p> +"Neither do I, very well," answered Jack; "but when folks can't do as +they will, they must do as they can, I've heard say." +</p> + +<p> +Thus we leave our Australian adventurers and return to the land from +which they are so rapidly receding. We didn't know what else to do here +in the eighth chapter, reader, unless we capped the climax, cleared the +stage, and scattered the characters; for we were quite as tired of them +as you were, and wanted to get them off our hands in some way. +</p> + +<p> +A few people think "Effie Afton" can tell stories tolerably well. But +she can't, reader! We speak candidly, for we know "a heap" more about +her than you do. There may be those in the wide world who hug themselves +in the belief that she can tell <i>little</i> fibs and <i>large</i> fibs +pretty flippantly. Well, let them continue thus to believe, if they +choose! We shall not pause to say ay, yes, or nay; and we also entertain +a private opinion, now publicly expressed, that there are people within +the limited circle of our acquaintance who can not only give utterance +to <i>little</i> and <i>large</i> fibs, but make their whole lives and +actions play the lie to their thoughts and feelings. But as to "Effie's" +telling long magazine tales,—pshaw! she is the most unsystematic +creature in the world. She just humps down in a big rocking-chair, with +one sort of <i>foolscap</i> in her <i>hand</i>, and another sort on her +<i>head</i>, with an old music-book to lay the sheets on, a lead-pencil +for a pen, and thus equipped, writes chapter one, and dashes <i>in +medias res</i> at once, without an idea as to how, where, or when the +story thus commenced is to find its terminus or end. This is the way she +does, reader; for we have seen her time and again. Well, she scratches +on "like mad" till her old lead-pencil is "used up." Then she sharpens +the point, and rushes on wilder than before. She don't eat much, and if +any one calls her to dinner, never heeds them; but when she conceives +herself arrived at a suitable stopping-place, drops her paper, runs to +the pantry, snatches a piece of gingerbread, and back to her scribbling +again, munching it as she writes. +</p> + +<p> +This is precisely the way she brings her "stories" into existence; but, +lest we write her out of favor too rapidly, we'll leave the subject, and +back to our tale again, recommencing with a new chapter, which is— +</p> + + + + +<p class="chapter"> +CHAPTER IX. +</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>"And there are haunts in that far land—</p> +<p class="i2">O, who shall dream or tell</p> +<p>Of all the shaded loveliness</p> +<p class="i2">She hides in grot and dell!"</p></div></div><br> + + +<p> +O, often, often, far from this, have we watched the great red sun +sinking behind the vast stretching prairie, while all the broad west +seemed like a surging flood of gold beyond an ocean of green; and often +have we beheld day's glorious orb looming above the soft blue waters of +the placid bay, while the joyous birds soared up the sparkling dome of +heaven, their little throats almost bursting with thrilling melody, and +the balmy south wind came laden with the perfume of ten thousand +ordorous flowers! +</p> + +<p> +O, sweet land upon the tropic's glowing verge, what star-bright memories +we have of thee! How deeply treasured in our heart of hearts are all thy +joys and pleasures,—ay, and griefs and sorrows too! But as the spot +where this long-crushed and drooping spirit heard those first, low, +preluding strains, foretokenings that its long-enfeebled energies were +wakening from their death-like slumber to breathe response to the +thousand tones in sea and air that called so loudly on them to arouse +once more to life and action, it will ever be most truly dear. And when +again life's fetters clog with the ice and snow of those frigid lands, +we'll long to fly again to those climes of song and sunny ray, and +forget earth's cankering cares in the contemplation of Nature's +luxuriant charms. But we grow abstract. +</p> + +<p> +Come with us, reader, if you will, over the prairies of Texas, gorgeous +with their many-colored flowers, dotted with the dark-green live-oaks, +and watered by pellucid rivers. To that log-house, standing under the +boughs of a wide-spreading pecan tree, let us wend our way. +</p> + +<p> +There is a gray-headed man sitting in a deer-skin-bottomed chair, on the +rude gallery, and gazing with weary eye on the lovely scenery around +him. Two young ladies are standing near, their countenances wearing +sullen expressions of discontent and sorrow. +</p> + +<p> +"So this is Texas, father," remarked the elder of the two, at length. "I +wonder how you ever expect to earn a living here, for my part." +</p> + +<p> +"By tilling the soil, my child, and growing cotton and sugar; fine +country for that. Land rich as mud and cheap as dirt. Why, I have +purchased five hundred acres for a mere trifle. Zounds! I feel like +amassing a new fortune here in a few years," said the old man, suddenly +rousing from his stupor. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, I'm perfectly disgusted," said the younger lady, "and wish I had +run off to Australia with brother Jack and Celestina's faithless +husband." +</p> + +<p> +"I wish I was in that convent upon the Mississippi, where poor sister +Celestina is now," sighed the elder. +</p> + +<p> +"Pshaw, girls! you'll both marry wild Texan rangers before two years," +said the old gentleman, who was no less a personage than Esq. Camford, +formerly the wealthiest merchant in New Orleans, but now a poor Texan +emigrant in his log-cabin on the Cibolo. Well, he was a better man now +than when rolling in the luxury of ill-gotten wealth, for adversity +never fails to teach useful lessons; and it had taught this +world-hardened, conscience-seared man, that "honesty is the best +policy." +</p> + +<p> +A tremulous voice from within attracted the attention of the group on +the gallery. "Mercy, mercy, Thisbe, take that viper away, and let me out +of this bed! it is full of frightful serpents." +</p> + +<p> +"Why, no 'taint neither, Missus," said poor Thisbe, struggling to lift +her mistress from the pillows; "there beant a snake nowheres about, only +a little striped 'izard, and I driv' him away." +</p> + +<p> +The husband now entered. +</p> + +<p> +"O, Adolphus!" exclaimed the nerve-stricken wife, "that you should have +brought me to a death like this! to be shot by Indians, devoured by +bears, and bitten by rattlesnakes!" +</p> + +<p> +"Thunder and Mars! nobody's dead yet, and this is a fine, healthy, +growing country," said the squire, in a loud, good-humored voice. +</p> + +<p> +"Alas! what am I to eat?" continued the nervous lady, "I can have no +claws and crackers in these wilds." +</p> + +<p> +"Let Thisbe catch you a young alligator from the river; that will be +something new for a relish." +</p> + +<p> +"O, Adolphus! how can you mock at the horrors that surround us? My +nerves, my nerves! you will never learn to regard them." +</p> + +<p> +"No, probably not," returned the husband; "but let me tell you, Nabby, I +don't believe nerves are of any available use out here in Texas. They'll +do for effect in the fashionable saloons of a city; but what think a +wild Camanche would say if he chanced some broiling-hot morning to catch +you in dishabille, and you begged him to retreat and spare your nerves? +Why, it would be all gibberish to him." +</p> + +<p> +"O, Adolphus! how can you horrify me thus? And these lovely jewels to be +devoured by hyenas and swallowed by crocodiles! O, my nerves! Thisbe, my +nerve-reviver this moment!" +</p> + +<p> +"There ain't a bit on't left, Missus; 'twas all in the trunk dat tumbled +out o' the cart when we swum through dat ar river," said the poor +servant, in a tone of anxious dismay. +</p> + +<p> +"Heaven save me now!" exclaimed the panic-stricken lady. "Adolphus, you +must go to New Orleans to-morrow and bring me some." +</p> + +<p> +"Thunder and Mars! You forget we are eight hundred miles from there, and +what do you suppose would become of you all before I got back? You would +be mounted on pack-mules, carried off to the Indian frontier, and made +squaws of." +</p> + +<p> +"O, father, don't leave us, I entreat of you!" sobbed Susette, on +hearing these words. +</p> + +<p> +"Why did I not die ere I came to this?" groaned Mrs. Camford. "Why did I +not die when my eldest jewel and brilliant son were torn from my +embrace? Alas! for what awful fate am I reserved?" +</p> + +<p> +"Come, Nabby, this would do on the boards of the St. Charles, but toads +and lizards can't appreciate theatricals. Pheny, can't you manage to get +up some sort of a dinner out of the corn-meal and sweet potatoes I +bought of the old Mynheer this morning; and there's a few eggs and a ham +in the larder too. I declare I relish this new life already;—it is a +change, Pheny, isn't it?" asked the father, looking in his fair +daughter's face. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," answered she, "and if it wasn't for the snakes and lizards, I +wouldn't complain." +</p> + +<p> +"Never mind them," returned the squire, bravely; "they shan't hurt you. +We'll have a nice, cosey home here a year from to-day." +</p> + + + + +<p class="chapter"> +CHAPTER X. +</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>"It was the calm, moonshiny hour,</p> +<p class="i2">And earth was hushed and sleeping;</p> +<p>The hour when faithful love is e'er</p> +<p class="i2">Its fondest vigils keeping."</p></div></div><br> + + +<p> +Clear as amber fell the moonlight on the forms of Wayland and Winnie +Morris, as arm in arm they roamed the calm, delightful shores of Lake +Pontchartrain. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, sister," said Wayland, "four weeks have passed since I last saw +you, and how have you sped in your capacity of teacher?" +</p> + +<p> +"O, bravely, Wayland! 'Tis so delightful to feel I am of some importance +in the world, and that I'm laying up money to repay my brother, as far +as I am able, for all he has done for me! You should see me in my little +school-room, with my pupils round me. I fancy no queen e'er felt more +pride and satisfaction in beholding her subjects kneeling before her, +than I do with my infant class leaning their tiny arms on my lap and +looking in my face as they repeat from my lips the evening prayer." +</p> + +<p> +"I am pleased to find you so content and happy," said Wayland. +</p> + +<p> +"O, I am indeed so, and indebted to you for all I enjoy!" returned +Winnie. +</p> + +<p> +"And what of Jack Camford, sis?" asked the brother, with a mischievous +smile. +</p> + +<p> +"O, I have not forgotten him yet, naughty Wayland!" answered she; "I +dream of him most every night." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, I would not seek to control your dreams, sis; but I fancy they'll +occur less and less often, and by and by cease altogether." +</p> + +<p> +"You think I never loved Jack," said Winnie. +</p> + +<p> +"I think you had a girlish fancy for him. As to woman's holy, unchanging +love, you have never yet experienced it, my little sister." +</p> + +<p> +"When shall I, then? I'm sixteen, and a preceptress." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes." +</p> + +<p> +"But don't you think Jack loved me, Wayland?" +</p> + +<p> +"I think he had a boy's fancy for you, which may deepen into love with +time, or may be wholly dissipated from his bosom." +</p> + +<p> +"But why did you object to him so strongly? You well-nigh broke my heart +at one time. It was not like you to hate the son for the parent's +crimes." +</p> + +<p> +"No, it was not for the father's errors that I bade you shun the son; +but because I discovered in him a frivolous, faulty character, that had +no strength of purpose, or fixed principles of action; and I dreaded the +influence such a person might exert over your youthful, pliant mind." +</p> + +<p> +"Now, what if he should return some of these years, and lay his life, +love and fortune at my feet?" suggested Winnie, archly. +</p> + +<p> +"Should he return with the elements that make the man stamped on his +face and conduct, I would never object to his addresses to my sister, if +she favored them," said Wayland. +</p> + +<p> +"How the poor Camfords have suffered!" remarked Winnie, after a pause. +</p> + +<p> +"They have, indeed," returned Wayland; "all our wrongs have been +expiated, and I raised not a finger to avenge them. My mother on her +death-bed bade me remember 'Vengeance was the Lord's,' and, thanks to +her name, I have done so." +</p> + +<p> +"Where are the family?" inquired Winnie. +</p> + +<p> +"Emigrated to Texas; and my brother editor, Mr. Lester, has purchased +their former residence, and I am boarding there at present. He has +extended to you a cordial invitation to pass your next vacation at his +mansion." +</p> + +<p> +"O, he is very kind! I shall be delighted to do so. Do you still like +editing as well as formerly, brother?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, it is an occupation suited to my tastes; and some of these years, +when I have sufficient capital, I want to go home to old Tennessee, and +erect a pretty rural cottage on the site of our former abode, and there +pass away life in peace and quietude with you, dear sister, if such a +prospect is pleasing to your mind. Or are you more ambitious?" +</p> + +<p> +"No, brother; ambition is for men, not women," said Winnie. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, for men who love it," responded Wayland; "but my highest ambition +is to be happy; and I look for happiness alone in rural quiet and +seclusion. Do you accede to my project, sis?" +</p> + +<p> +"With all my heart." +</p> + +<p> +"Then see that you keep that heart free, and not, before I carry my plan +into execution, have given it to the charge of some gallant knight, and +left me desolate in my pretty cottage on the verdant shores of +Tennessee." +</p> + +<p> +"Ay, and see that you don't find some fairer flower to bloom in that +cottage home, and rudely toss me from the window," exclaimed Winnie, +with a merry laugh. +</p> + +<p> +"No fear of that," said Wayland; "now I must leave you. Expect me in a +week again." +</p> + +<p> +And with an affectionate salute the brother and sister parted. +</p> + + + + +<p class="chapter"> +CHAPTER XI. +</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>"Ay, there are memories that will not vanish,</p> +<p>Thoughts of the past we have no power to banish;</p> +<p>To show the heart how powerless mere will;</p> +<p>For we may suffer, and yet struggle still;</p> +<p>It is not at our choice that we forget—</p> +<p>That is a power no science teaches yet,</p> +<p>The heart may be a dark and closed-up tomb,</p> +<p>But memory stands a ghost amid the gloom."</p></div></div><br> + + +<p> +Miss Jerusha Sharpwell and Mrs. Fleetfoot had dropped in to take tea +with Mrs. Sykes on a pleasant September evening. The latter lady, as in +duty bound, was highly pleased to see her dear friends, and forthwith +ordered Hannah, her servant-girl, to make a batch of soda rolls, with a +bit of shortening rubbed in, and just step over to Mrs. Frye's, and ask +that good lady "if she would not be so very kind and obliging as to lend +Mrs. Sykes a plateful of her nice, sweet doughnuts, as she had visitors +come in unexpectedly, and was not quite prepared to entertain them as +she could wish." Thus were the guests provided for. +</p> + +<p> +"How happened it you were absent from the last sewing circle, sister +Sykes?" inquired Miss Sharpwell. "We had an unusually interesting +season. Several new names were added to our list, and sister Fleetfoot, +here, entertained us with a most amusing account of Pamela Gaddie's +marriage with Mr. Smith, the missionary to Bengal." +</p> + +<p> +"Indeed! I regret I was denied the pleasure of listening to the recital; +but company detained me from the circle." +</p> + +<p> +"Ah! who was visiting you?" asked Mrs. Fleetfoot. +</p> + +<p> +"The Churchills, from Cincinnati," answered Mrs. Sykes. "You know they +are particular friends of my husband." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes; is their son married yet?" +</p> + +<p> +"No; and he called on Alice Orville every day while he was here." +</p> + +<p> +"La, do tell me!" said Jerusha. "How long was he with you, Mrs. Sykes?" +</p> + +<p> +"A day and a half," returned that lady. "He came up in the morning-train +and returned next evening." +</p> + +<p> +"Well," said Mrs. Fleetfoot, "they do say Alice Orville is engaged to +Fred. Milder." +</p> + +<p> +"Sakes alive!" exclaimed Miss Jerusha. "I never heard a word about it +before! Well, Mrs. Milder was always standing up for Mrs. Orville. I +thought it meant something. Now I remember, Fred. was at the last sewing +circle and walked home with Alice. I thought strange of it then, for it +was hardly a dozen yards to her house, and some of us young ladies had +to walk five times as far all alone. Who told you of the engagement?" +</p> + +<p> +"La, I can't remember now!" said Mrs. Fleetfoot; "but I've heard of it +ever so many times." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, they'll make a pretty couple enough," observed Mrs. Sykes; +"though I rather fancied Alice was engaged to somebody off south, 'cause +she seems sort of downcast sometimes, and keeps so close since she got +home." +</p> + +<p> +"O, la, that's cause she's got wind of the story that was going about +here before she came back! I wonder if there was any truth in it?" said +Mrs. Fleetfoot. +</p> + +<p> +"I don't know; I never put much confidence in flying stories," remarked +Jerusha. +</p> + +<p> +"Neither do I!" said Mrs. Sykes; "or take the trouble to repeat, if I +chance to hear them." +</p> + +<p> +"Nor I!" chimed in Mrs. Fleetfoot. "If there is anything I mortally +abhor, it is a tattler and busybody." +</p> + +<p> +"Our sentiments, exactly!" exclaimed the other two ladies in concert. +</p> + +<p> +Hannah now entered and announced tea, and the trio of scrupulous, +conscientious ladies repaired to the dining-room to luxuriate on short +rolls and Mrs. Frye's neighborly doughnuts. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Orville had a pleasant residence on the lake shore, and everything +wore a brighter aspect in the eyes of the mother, since her beloved +daughter had returned to enliven the old home by her sunshiny presence. +But Alice had passed from the gay-hearted child to the thoughtful woman +in the two years she had been away, and there was a mild, pensive light +in her dark eye that spoke of a chastened spirit within. Still, she was +usually cheerful, and always, even in her most melancholy hours, an +agreeable companion. Beautiful in person, highly educated and +accomplished, her conversation, whether tinged with sadness or enlivened +by wit and humor, exercised a strange, fascinating power over her +listeners. +</p> + +<p> +Alice had left New Orleans with the expectation of having her cousin +Josephine spend the ensuing winter with her at the north; but shortly +after her arrival home a letter from her cousin informed her of their +fallen fortunes, and proposed emigration to Texas. As Alice knew not to +what part of that State to direct a reply, all further correspondence +was broken off between the parties. From Wayland Morris she never heard, +and knew naught concerning him, save by occasional articles from his pen +in southern journals, which were noticed with commendation and applause. +She tried hard to forget him; "for it is not right," she said, "to waste +my life and health on one who never thinks of me. But why did he awaken +a hope in my breast that he loved me, if that hope was to be withdrawn +as soon as it became necessary to my happiness?" +</p> + +<p> +"Alice, Alice!" exclaimed Mrs. Orville, as the fair girl stood in the +recess of a vine-covered window, absorbed in thoughts like these, "Mr. +Milder is coming through the gate; will you go out to receive him?" +</p> + +<p> +Alice roused from her reverie, and saying "Yes, mother," very quietly, +hastened through the hall to meet her visitor. +</p> + +<p> +"Good-evening, Mr. Milder!" said she, with a graceful courtesy. "Come +into the parlor. I have been laying the sin of ungallantry upon you for +the last three days." +</p> + +<p> +"It is the last charge I would have expected preferred against me by +you, Miss Orville!" said he, smiling. +</p> + +<p> +"What other would you sooner have expected?" she inquired, looping up +the snowy muslin curtains to admit the parting sunbeams. +</p> + +<p> +"One I would have dreaded far more to hear,—that of being too assiduous +in my attendance," returned he, in a low tone. +</p> + +<p> +Alice answered by changing the conversation, and, after an hour passed +in pleasant chit-chat, Fred. proposed a stroll on the lake shore. Alice +was soon ready, and they sallied forth. The weather was delightful, and +that walk along Erie's sounding shores was fraught with a life-interest +to one, and regretful sorrow to both. +</p> + +<p> +"I am going to Texas, Alice!" said Milder, as they reäpproached the +mansion of Mrs. Orville. +</p> + +<p> +"O, that you might find my cousin Josephine there, who is so good and +beautiful!" remarked Alice. +</p> + +<p> +"Would I might, if it would afford you a moment's pleasure," he +answered, in a dejected tone. +</p> + +<p> +"If you do, pray give her my love, and entreat her to write and inform +me of her welfare," said Alice, earnestly. +</p> + +<p> +"I shall be highly gratified to execute your commission," he answered; +"and now, good-by, Alice! May you be as happy as you deserve!" +</p> + +<p> +"And may you, also, Fred.!" said Alice, with tears in her eyes. One +lingering pressure of the hand, and he was gone. +</p> + +<p> +"Noble heart!" exclaimed Alice; "why could I not love him? Alas! a +tyrant grasp is on my soul, which, while it delights to hold me in its +toils, and tantalize and torment, will not love me, or let me love +another!" +</p> + +<p> +"Alice!" said a voice within. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, mother, I'm coming," replied the daughter, entering the hall with +a languid step, and proceeding to divest herself of shawl and bonnet. +</p> + +<p> +"You have had a long stroll and look fatigued," remarked the fond +parent, noticing her daughter's flushed cheeks and hurried respiration, +as she flung herself into a large rocking-chair by the open window. +Where is Fred.?" +</p> + +<p> +"Gone home," said Alice. +</p> + +<p> +"Why did he not come in and rest a while?" +</p> + +<p> +"I forgot to invite him, I believe," returned Alice, briefly. +</p> + +<p> +"And did you not ask him to call at any future time?" +</p> + +<p> +"No, mother; he is going to Texas." +</p> + +<p> +"Indeed! How long has he entertained that idea?" asked Mrs. Orville in a +tone of astonishment. +</p> + +<p> +"Not long, I fancy. I told him to find cousin Josephine and entreat her +to write to me," said Alice, fanning her face with a great, flapping +feather fan. +</p> + +<p> +"I hope he may do so; and much do I wish your cousin might be here to +pass the winter, for I fear you will be lonely without some companion of +your own age," said Mrs. Orville, attentively regarding her daughter. +</p> + +<p> +"O, never fear for me, mother!" returned Alice. "I assure you I have +ample resources for enjoyment in my own breast. They only need occasion +to be called forth and put in exercise." +</p> + +<p> +"I hope it may prove thus," responded the tender mother. "Let us now +retire to our pleasant chamber, and I will do myself the pleasure of +listening to your rich voice, while you read a portion of Scripture, and +sing a sacred hymn." +</p> + +<p> +Thus mother and daughter retired; and while the old heart that had +passed beyond the youth-life of love and passion, rested calmly in its +tranquil sleep, the young heart by its side throbbed wildly, trembled, +wept and sighed; tossing restlessly on its pillow, haunted by ill-omened +dreams and ghastly phantom-shapes too hideous for reality. For there is +no rest, or calm, or quiet, for the passion-haunted breast. +</p> + + + + +<p class="chapter"> +CHAPTER XII. +</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>"'Twas one of love's wild freaks, I do suppose,</p> +<p>And who is there can reason upon those?</p> +<p>I'd like to see the one so bold."</p></div></div><br> + + +<p> +The lively winter season was at its height in New Orleans, and all the +vast city astir with life and gayety. In the former wealthy home of the +Camfords, her wrought slippers resting on the polished grate in the +elegant parlor, sat a prim maiden lady, arrayed in steel-colored satin. +An embroidered muslin morning-cap was placed with an air of much +precision over her glossy brown <i>imported</i> locks, and the pointed +collar around her neck was secured by a plain bow of fawn-colored +ribbon. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly the door opened, and a gentleman, of fine personal appearance, +and elegantly attired, entered the apartment, with hat and gloves in +hand. +</p> + +<p> +"Where is Winnie?" was the hasty inquiry. +</p> + +<p> +"I left her in her room half an hour ago," was the reply. +</p> + +<p> +"It is quite time we should go;—the theatre will be filled to +overflowing at Miss Julia's benefit," remarked the gentleman. "I wish +you would go with us, sister." +</p> + +<p> +"Theatres will do for girls and <i>fops</i>," said the lady; "<i>my</i> +mind requires something solid and weighty to satisfy it." +</p> + +<p> +"Then I suppose Col. Edmunds suits you exactly," observed the gentleman, +laughing; "he is a real Sir John Falstaff in proportions." +</p> + +<p> +"I'm in no mood for your frivolous jests. If you were in a rational +temper I would like to ask you a question." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, out with it. I'm as rational at thirty as I ever will be, +probably." +</p> + +<p> +"You were becoming quite a decent man before this fly-a-way girl came +among us. Now I wish to know when she is going away?" +</p> + +<p> +"Heavens! I don't know; not at present, I hope," said the gentleman, +quickly. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, either she or I will leave pretty soon," returned the lady, +pursing up her lips with a stiff, determined expression; "she is such +a self-willed, obstinate little thing, and turns the house all +topsy-turvy, and makes such a racket and confusion, that I cannot and +<i>will</i> not endure it longer. My mind requires quiet for contemplation." +</p> + +<p> +"Why, she seems to me like a sunbeam; like a canary-bird in the house, +sister; warming, and filling it with music." +</p> + +<p> +"She seems to me more like a hurricane, or wild-cat," remarked the lady, +spitefully. +</p> + +<p> +The gentleman laughed, and, at this juncture, in bounded the subject of +the discourse, arrayed in azure silk, a wreath of white flowers on her +head, and a wrought fan swinging by a ribbon at her delicate wrist. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, I've been waiting for you these ten minutes," said the gentleman, +gazing with admiration on the lovely being before him; "let us go now, +or I fear some impertinent person may intrude upon our reserved seats. +The carriage is at the door." +</p> + +<p> +"I'm sorry to have kept you waiting, Mr. Lester," said Winnie. +</p> + +<p> +"O, no apology, Miss Morris!" returned he, gayly; "gentlemen always +expect to wait for ladies; it is their privilege." +</p> + +<p> +"Miss Mary," said Winnie, advancing toward the prim lady by the grate, +"I fear I have misplaced some of your toilet articles, for I could not +find one half of mine. The chamber-maid had given them new places, and I +took the liberty to apply to yours, but I'll put them all right in the +morning." +</p> + +<p> +"O, it is very well, of course," returned the lady, sharply; "plain +enough who is mistress here." +</p> + +<p> +Winnie stood irresolute, gazing with astonishment on Miss Mary's angry, +flushed countenance, and at length turned her blue eyes toward the +gentleman, who was attentively regarding her features. +</p> + +<p> +"Come, Winnie," said he, opening the hall-door, "we shall be very late." +</p> + +<p> +The young girl quickly followed his direction. "Is brother Wayland to be +there?" she inquired, as the carriage rolled away. +</p> + +<p> +"I urged his attendance, and he half promised to go," answered the +gentleman; "but, if he fails, cannot you be contented with me alone for +one brief evening?" +</p> + +<p> +"O, yes, many!" returned Winnie. "I only wished he would go and not +confine himself to business so closely." +</p> + +<p> +"I wish he would relax his editorial labors, for his health demands it, +I think," said Mr. Lester. "We must induce him to quit the chair of +office, and take a trip up the river this spring." +</p> + +<p> +"I wish he would leave that dull, tedious printing-office a few weeks," +exclaimed Winnie. "He has long entertained a project of erecting a +little cottage on the shore of Tennessee, where we used to live, for +himself and me, and I think he has sufficient money now to carry his +plan into effect; don't you, Mr. Lester?" +</p> + +<p> +"Undoubtedly he has; but such a proceeding would not please me at all," +answered the gentleman. +</p> + +<p> +"Why not?" asked Winnie, turning her eyes quickly toward her companion. +</p> + +<p> +He smiled to meet her startled glance, and said, "I will explain my +reasons at some future time, Winnie. We are now at the theatre." +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Lester handed the fair girl from the carriage, and they made their +way through the crowd. Wayland met them on the steps, and accompanied +them home after the play. +</p> + +<p> +As Winnie passed the door of Miss Mary Lester's room to reach her own, +she observed it standing wide open, and wondered to behold it thus, as +Miss Mary was accustomed to bar and bolt it close, for fear of thieves +and housebreakers. But, fatigued and sleepy, she passed on, and soon +forgot her surprise after gaining the privacy of her own apartment. +Early in the morning she was roused from slumber by a furious knocking +on her door. She sprang up and demanded, "Who is there?" +</p> + +<p> +"Me, Miss Winnie, only me—Aunt Eunice; and do you know what is become +o' Missus Mary?" exclaimed an excited voice without; "her door is wide +open this morning, and nobody slept in her bed last night." +</p> + +<p> +Winnie was by this time fairly roused, and, opening her door, the poor +servant-girl flounced into the room, the very picture of terror and +affright. +</p> + +<p> +"Has your master risen, and does he know of his sister's absence?" +inquired Winnie. +</p> + +<p> +"No, nobody is up but me, and Missus Mary always tells me to come right +to her room first thing with a pitcher o' cool water; so I went this +mornin', you see, and behold missus' door wide open and no missus thar! +O, Miss Winnie, I 'spect satin has sperritted off soul and body, 'deed I +does." +</p> + +<p> +"O, no, Aunt Eunice, I think not!" said Winnie smiling; "but you had +better go to your master and inform him what has occurred." +</p> + +<p> +"'Deed I will, Miss," said the black woman, disappearing. +</p> + +<p> +Winnie proceeded to dress, in a strange perplexity of fear and +astonishment, while Aunt Eunice thumped long and loud on her master's +door. +</p> + +<p> +"Who's there?" at last exclaimed a voice within. +</p> + +<p> +"Me, Aunt Eunice," said the woman frantically, "O, massa, massa, missus +gone, and who's to pour the coffee for breakfast?" +</p> + +<p> +"What are you raving about?" said the master, opening his door; "why are +you disturbing me at this early hour?" +</p> + +<p> +"Missus gone; sperritted off soul and body, I 'spect." +</p> + +<p> +"What are you talking about?" demanded Lester, not in the least +comprehending her words. +</p> + +<p> +"O, just come up to her room and see for yourself." +</p> + +<p> +"Why, what's to be seen there?" he asked. +</p> + +<p> +"Nothin' at all, I tells ye. Missus clean gone. Her door wide open, and +she never slept in her bed last night, massa," said the woman, gasping +for breath, as she ceased speaking. +</p> + +<p> +The unusual sounds aroused Wayland, who slept near, and flinging open +his door he demanded what was the matter. +</p> + +<p> +"O, Master Morris!" said aunt Eunice, turning her discourse upon him, +"missus gone—clean gone." +</p> + +<p> +"Come on, Morris," said Lester. "Eunice says her mistress is spirited +away. Let's dive into the mystery and see what we can bring to light." +</p> + +<p> +Wayland followed Lester up the hall stairs, wondering what this strange +disturbance might import. They traversed the passage to Miss Mary's +apartment, when, sure enough, as Eunice had affirmed, they found the +door wide open, and, to appearance, no person had occupied the room the +previous night. Lester's quick eye instantly marked, what the servant in +her fright had failed to notice, the absence of two large trunks that +used to stand beside the bed, and the <i>presence</i> of a small folded +billet on the dressing-table. He advanced with a hasty step, broke the +seal, and read. +</p> + +<p> +"Ha, ha!" laughed he, as he run over the contents. "Eunice, go below and +light the fires." +</p> + +<p> +The woman hastened away. +</p> + +<p> +"Romance at thirty-seven! elopement extraordinary, Wayland!" he +continued. "Miss Mary Lester has become in due form Mrs. Col. Edmunds, +and 'fled,' as she expresses it—(now where was the use in +<i>flying</i>, for who would have objected to the marriage? But then +'twas romantic, of course)—to the wilds of Texas; there to enjoy the +sweets of domestic felicity with her adored husband; to which fair land +she hopes I'll some day come to visit her, when I have regained +possession of my senses, and learnt the difference 'twixt canary-birds +and wild-cats." +</p> + +<p> +Wayland listened with amazement depicted on his features. +</p> + +<p> +"Strange; all wonder, isn't it, Morris?" pursued Lester. "Let's go below +and discuss the matter." +</p> + +<p> +The gentlemen descended to the parlor, where Aunt Eunice soon presented +herself, and, with rueful countenance, said: +</p> + +<p> +"Please, massa, who is to pour the coffee this morning? Missus gone, you +know." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, Eunice, suppose you run up stairs, and ask Miss Winnie if she +will not condescend to perform that office this morning, as we find +ourselves so suddenly bereft of a housekeeper?" said Lester, in a +mock-serious tone. +</p> + +<p> +Winnie of course assented, and passed into the breakfast-room, where she +found her brother and Lester already seated at the table. +</p> + +<p> +"Good-morning, Miss Morris," said the latter. "A romance, such as we +read of in old knights' tales, was enacted in our house last night, in +consequence of which a forlorn bachelor has to ask of you the favor to +preside at his desolate board this morning." +</p> + +<p> +"I shall be pleased to serve you," returned Winnie, assuming the head of +the table, and so prettily did she perform the duties of her new office, +that Lester forgot his muffins and sandwiches, in admiration of his +newly-installed housekeeper <i>pro tem</i>. +</p> + +<p> +Miss Mary's elopement was a three days' wonder, and then the affair was +as if it had never been; save that the servants could not sufficiently +admire Miss Winnie, or sufficiently rejoice over Miss Mary's departure. +"O," said Aunt Eunice, "don't I wish massa would marry you, Miss Winnie, +and then the house would be like heaven—'deed it would!" +</p> + + + + +<p class="chapter"> +CHAPTER XIII. +</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>"We've many things to say within the bounds</p> +<p>Of this good chapter, which is 'mong the last;</p> +<p>So be of better cheer; for we are well</p> +<p>Nigh done."</p></div></div><br> + + +<p> +We will just step over to Texas this morning, dear reader, for well we +know the mocking-birds are singing sweetly, and the wild geese rise from +the placid bayous, and flap their broad, white wings over the bright +green prairies, on their inland flight, and the gentle breezes stir the +dark, luxuriant foliage of the wide, primeval forests, while all the air +is redolent with the odors of the ocean of flowers that cover the whole +sunny land with bloom and beauty. +</p> + +<p> +It is something more than a year since we parted with Esq. Camford in +his new emigrant home, and now we have another party of friends arriving +in our young "Italy of America," even the romantic Miss Mary Lester, and +her John Falstaff husband; and Fred. Milder, too, has had time to wear +off the edge of his love disappointment on the ridgy hog-wallows of this +fair south-western land. For we don't believe there's another so +effectual antidote in the world for a fit of the blues or love dumps, as +a long day's ride in a Texan stage-coach, with three pair of wild +mustangs for horses, over these same hog-wallows; to say nothing of the +way they despatch jaundice, dyspepsia, and all the host of bilious +diseases. But don't you quite understand what hog-wallows are, reader? +Well, Heaven help you then, when you go out south or west, and pitch +into them for the first time! Invoke your patron saint to keep your soul +and body together, and prevent your limbs from flying off at tangents. +</p> + +<p> +We will tell you how we once heard a Kentuckian (and God bless the +Kentucky boys in general, for they are a whole-souled race!) account for +these anomalous things. We were pitching through a group of them, some +dozen of us in a miserable wagon, when one "new comer" asked his +neighbor, "What is the cause of these confounded <i>humps</i> in the +roads?" +</p> + +<p> +"They are hog-wallows," responded the one interrogated, in a pompous +tone, as if proud to display his superior knowledge of the land into +which both the speakers had but recently made their advent. +</p> + +<p> +"Hog-wallows!" exclaimed the man, more in doubt than ever by his +newly-acquired knowledge, "what makes so many of them then?" +</p> + +<p> +"Why, you see when the great rains come on," commenced the "wise 'un," +"the country gets all afloat, and when it begins to dry off a little, +the wild hogs come by thousands, and roll and flop about in the mud, and +that makes all these pitch-holes, which they call hog-wallows." +</p> + +<p> +"Why don't they kill the hogs and eat 'em, and not have 'em rooting up +the roads in this awful way?" asked greeny number one. +</p> + +<p> +"Lord! they do kill and kill, I'm told," said greeny number two; "but +Texas is such an almighty rich country that all sorts o' critters and +things grow up spontaneously everywheres." +</p> + +<p> +"Creation! but why don't they build fences alongside their roads then!" +</p> + +<p> +"O, they never make fences in Texas; first you'd know a hurricane would +come tearing along, and land them all in the Gulf of Mexico, quicker +than you could say 'Old Kentuck.'" +</p> + +<p> +"Stars and gaiters! what a dreadful dangerous country is this we have +got into!" said number two, with a frightened aspect, as they dropped +the subject and relapsed into silence, while it was evident, from their +anxious visages, that their minds were harassed and disturbed, by +visions of hog-wallows, hurricanes and spontaneous animals. +</p> + +<p> +We have heard other and more philosophical hypotheses as to the origin +of these uneven roads. Some suppose the country was once an inland sea, +and these ridges were occasioned by the continuous action of the waves; +others suppose the intense heat of the sun on the soft, clayey soil, +caused it to crack and spread asunder, leaving the surface broken and +ridgy. This latter is the more generally received opinion, we believe. +</p> + +<p> +Here's half a chapter on hog-wallows, the unpoetical things! but as +utilitarians maintain nothing is made but what subserves some purpose, +we premise these humpy roads were made for the benefit of gouty men, +dyspeptic women, and love-sick lads and lasses. Thus disposed of, "we +resume the thread of our narrative," as novel-writers say. Our pen waxes +wild and intractable, whenever we get safely over the stormy gulf, and +stand on the shores of bonny, bright Texas; for we feel at home there, +hog-wallows, musquitoes, Camanches and all. Let none dare gainsay Texas +in our ears, for it is the banner state of all the immaculate +thirty-one. Come on, reader, now we have had our say, straight up to the +thriving plantation of Esq. Camford, and behold the wonders this +wonderful land can produce upon the characters of nervous, +delicately-constituted ladies. That buxom, blooming-matron in the loose +gingham wrapper, and muslin morning-cap, who stands on the gallery of +that new and tastefully-built cottage, all overshaded by the boughs of +the majestic pecan trees, giving off orders to a brace of shiny-eyed +mulatto wenches, who listen with reverential awe and attention, is none +other than the hysterical, shaky-nerved Mrs. Camford, whom we beheld +some two years ago bewailing the fate which had brought her to this +awful place, to be poisoned by snakes, mangled by bears, and murdered by +Indians. Listen to her words: +</p> + +<p> +"Thisbe, take the lunch I have placed in the market-basket down to the +cotton-field boys, and ask your master to come to the house soon as +convenient; some people from the States are come to visit us:—and you, +Hagar, go to the garden and gather a quantity of vegetables for dinner. +I will be in the kitchen to assist in their preparation." +</p> + +<p> +The women bowed, and hastened away on their separate errands. Mrs. +Camford now turned to enter the house, when Josephine, her cheeks +blooming with health and happiness, came bounding to her mother's side. +"O, mamma, the young gentleman, Mr. Milder, knows all about cousin +Alice! he has come right from the place in which she resides. He says +she sent a great deal of love to us all, and desired me to write to her. +Perhaps, now we know she remembers us so kindly, you will let me go +north some time, and pay my long-promised visit. Susette and her husband +talk of travelling next season, you know." +</p> + +<p> +All this was uttered in the most lively and animated tone conceivable, +and Mrs. Camford smiled, and answered cheerfully, as mother and daughter +reëntered the neat, airy parlor, where our heroine of romance, Miss Mary +Lester, was sitting beside her portly, red-visaged husband, Col. +Edmunds, who had, in early life, been a Texan ranger, and acquired so +keen a relish for the wild, exciting scenes of a new country, that he +would not give his hand (his heart we suppose he could not control) to +the fair Mary, unless she would consent to forego the luxuries of +fashionable life, and follow his fortunes through the perils and +vicissitudes of an Indian frontier. She stood out to the last, hoping +the stalwart colonel would yield to her eloquent pleadings, and consent +to make his abode in New Orleans; for she conceived that brother +Augustus, having arrived at the sober age of thirty, would never marry, +and it would be the finest idea in the world for him to relinquish the +splendid estate he had acquired by his own untiring exertions, to the +hands of Col. Edmunds, while she, as the worthy colonel's most estimable +consort, would condescend to assume the direction of the servants and +household affairs, and Augustus could thus live wholly at his ease, +without a worldly care to distract his breast. What an affectionate, +self-sacrificing sister would she be, thus kindly to relieve her brother +at her own expense! But, just as this plan began to ripen for execution, +she was counter-plotted, or fancied herself to be, which led to the same +denouement. Winnie Morris came to pass a vacation with her brother, +Wayland, and the fore-doomed bachelor, Augustus Lester, most audaciously +dared to fall in love with the cackling girl. So Miss Mary declared; and +to remain in her brother's mansion, where she had hitherto exercised +unlimited sway, under such a little minx of a mistress, was too much for +human nature to endure; so, all on a sudden, she yielded in full to the +majestic colonel's wishes, and "cut sticks" for Texas, flying, as many +of us often do, from an imaginary evil, and leaving behind poor little +Winnie, innocent and unsuspecting as a lamb, with the great coffee-urn +in her trembling hand. How long the fair girl remained thus innocent and +unsuspecting, we are yet to know. +</p> + +<p> +"So you are from New Orleans, Col. Edmunds," remarked Mrs. Camford. "I +do not recollect of ever having met you there; but to see any person +from our former home, though personally strangers, affords us pleasure +and gratification." +</p> + +<p> +"I have only resided in New Orleans about six months, madam," returned +Col. Edmunds; "the most of my life has been spent in camp and field." +</p> + +<p> +"My husband is a soldier," said Mrs. Edmunds, "and we are now on our way +to the Indian frontier." +</p> + +<p> +"Indeed! and how do you think you will relish frontier life?" asked Mrs. +Camford. +</p> + +<p> +"O, I shall be contented anywhere with my husband!" +</p> + +<p> +"Just married, madam, and desperately in love yet," said the colonel. +"Always lived in the city, and thought it the greatest piece of audacity +in the world when I informed her I was going to stop at the residence of +a private gentleman with whom I was not in the least acquainted, to bait +my mules and get dinner. Not a bit acquainted with the Texan elephant, +you see, madam." +</p> + +<p> +"Heaven save me, Samuel! do people in this country associate with +elephants?" exclaimed the bride, with the prettiest display of horrified +surprise. +</p> + +<p> +"To be sure; I had one for a bed-fellow six or eight months when I first +came out here," returned the husband, with perfect serenity. +</p> + +<p> +"O, my soul, I hope I shall never see one!" said the young wife, +nestling closer to her husband's side. +</p> + +<p> +The colonel laughed heartily, and all joined in his merriment. +</p> + +<p> +"You should not alarm new-comers by such bug-bear tales," remarked Mrs. +Camford, at length. "This young gentleman, Mr. Milder, is just from the +north." +</p> + +<p> +"Indeed! well, he looks as if he might soon learn how to grapple with +elephants and tigers both," said the colonel, glancing on the young +man's countenance. +</p> + +<p> +"Tigers!" exclaimed Mrs. Edmunds, taking fresh alarm; "do those +ferocious creatures grow here too?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, everything grows here, Mary, about five times as large as anywhere +else," answered the bluff colonel. "But what say, young man, to going up +on the frontier with me, and seeing a bit of soldier life? You'd get to +see the whole elephant there, teeth, trunk and all." +</p> + +<p> +"Why will you keep talking about that dreadful monster?" said the young +wife, who had brought a few nerves along with her. "You'll terrify me to +death, Samuel." +</p> + +<p> +"You must get used to the critters, Mary, and the quicker the better, is +all I have to say," returned the husband, patting her cheek. +</p> + +<p> +Esquire Camford now entered, dinner was served, and the conversation +took a higher tone. Esquire C. spoke of the country, its fertility, +rapid improvement, and exhaustless resources. Fred. Milder began to feel +an interest in a land with prospects so brilliant, and accepted with +pleasure Col. Edmunds' invitation to travel on westward in company with +him. The travellers were persuaded to pass the night; and during the +visit Mrs. Camford came to know that Mrs. Edmunds was a sister of the +Mr. Lester who had purchased her former sumptuous residence from the +hands of the creditors, at the time of their failure in New Orleans. +Still the knowledge did not waken regretful feelings, or excite a pang +of envy in her breast; for she had learned to regard a cottage with +content as better than wealth and pomp with pride and misery to distract +the spirit. +</p> + +<p> +The morrow dawned beautifully. Round and red the sun arose beyond the +far, green prairie, when the mules and carriages were brought to the +door, and the little party of travellers recommenced their journey. +Fred. Milder cast a lingering glance after the pretty Josephine, as she +wished him a delightful tour up the country, and bade him not forget to +call and give her an account of all his adventures on his return. He +promised faithfully not to forget, and, with kind adieus, the party +moved on their way. +</p> + +<p> +Josephine sat down after her usual morning tasks were completed, and +indited a long epistle to her cousin Alice; giving a general description +of her Texan home; not failing to mention her mother's happy recovery +from nerves, and Susette's marriage with a promising young planter; also +the pleasant visit they had enjoyed from Mr. Milder; and ended by saying +she hoped another season, when papa was a little richer, to make her +long-contemplated visit to the north. +</p> + + + + +<p class="chapter"> +CHAPTER XIV. +</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>"Youth, love and beauty, all were hers,</p> +<p>Why should she not be happy?"</p></div></div><br> + + +<p> +Where would you like to go now, reader? We are desirous to take you by +the path that will lead through this story by the shortest cut, and, as +we dare not doubt but that will be the course of all others most +grateful to your tastes and feelings, we'll clear Texas at a bound, for +there'll blow a whistling "Norther" there soon, we apprehend, and that +would tangle our hair worse than it is tangled now, and we have not had +time to comb it since this story commenced. So, imagine "Effie," dear +reader, with her brown locks wisped up in the most unbecoming manner +possible, a calico morning-gown wrapped loosely about her, and not over +clean, her fingers grimmed with pencil-dust, and her nose too, +perhaps—for she has a fashion of rubbing that useful organ, for ideas, +or something else, we know not what. +</p> + +<p> +Just imagine this, reader, and if you don't throw down the story in +actual disgust, you'll be more anxious to get through it than we are +even. +</p> + +<p> +Now away with episode, and here are we in the fair "Crescent City" +again, at the palace-like residence of Augustus Lester, Esq. The lord of +the mansion is at home, reclining on a silken sofa, which is drawn +before one of the deep, bloom-shaded windows of the elegant +drawing-room. He is in genial, after-dinner mood, and that fairy-looking +being, sitting by his side on a low ottoman, is our former friend, +Winnie Morris. But she bears another name now, for she has been three +months a wife—Augustus Lester's girl-bride! +</p> + +<p> +Were that affectionate sister's misgivings of her bachelor brother's +intentions toward that wild-cat girl altogether chimerical, then? +Present appearances would indicate them not to have been altogether +groundless; but really, when the fair Mary fled so precipitately, the +idea of making Winnie Morris his bride had never entered her brother's +cranium. He had regarded her as a pretty child, and delighted in her +sunshiny, buoyant spirit, and felt he would like to keep her near to +cheer and enliven his mansion; but from the moment he saw her presiding +with so much quiet dignity and grace at his table, on that eventful +morning, he resolved to win her heart if possible. The task was by no +means difficult, for an object to which we look up with gratitude and +reverence, 'tis next to impossible not to love. She forgot, in her +devotion to the lofty, high-souled man, her childish fancy for the +frivolous-minded boy, and when Wayland, on her bridal morning, asked +mischievously, "Where was Jack Camford vanished?" she replied, "In a +gold mine beyond the seas, I suppose, brother; but why mention his name +to make discord on this happy hour?" +</p> + +<p> +"It is strange Wayland does not return," remarked Augustus, at length, +rousing from a light doze, and drawing his young wife close to his side. +</p> + +<p> +"I thought you were fast asleep, Auguste," said she; "and here I have +been fanning you so attentively, to keep the mosquitoes away. Well, it +is time for Wayland to come, isn't it? He has been absent more than two +months. You know how he chided me for breaking the promise I made to be +mistress of that pretty cottage he proposed to build up in Tennessee. +Perhaps he is erecting it, and intends to dwell there in proud, +regretful solitude." +</p> + +<p> +"Or, perhaps he is in search of some fair lady to be its mistress, who +may prove less recreant to her promise," suggested Lester. +</p> + +<p> +"May be so," returned Winnie, laughing. +</p> + +<p> +"I look for a letter from him every day," remarked the husband; "there +was a mail-boat in when I came up to dinner. I'll call at the +post-office this evening; very possibly one has arrived." +</p> + +<p> +"I hope so," answered Winnie. +</p> + +<p> +The bell now rang, and company was announced. Leaving the young couple +to entertain their guests, we have stolen away in search of the absent +Wayland, and bring him once more on the tapis, to give some account of +his protracted wanderings, and learn what are his hopes and prospects +for the future. By what devious track we shall be pleased to pursue the +rover, our next chapter will reveal. +</p> + + + + +<p class="chapter"> +CHAPTER XV. +</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>"O, Charity, what art thou? Mystic thing!"</p></div></div><br> + + +<p> +Being rather benevolently inclined ourselves, we feel a desire to look +in once more upon the "Ladies Literary Benevolent Combination for +Foreign Aid," which is to-day congregated at the residence of Mrs. +Rachel Stebbins, president of this humane and Christian body. She is +sitting in majestic presence on her throne of office, with her +gold-bowed spectacles astride her stately nose, and her devoted subjects +clustering around her, their tongues and fingers nimble as ever in the +good cause of universal philanthropy. Prominent in the ranks is Mrs. +Sykes, while ever following her, like a shadow, is her bosom friend, +Miss Jerusha Sharpwell. Mrs. Fleetfoot also appears in the rear; a sort +of shadow of a shade, or refrain to the song. Little Miss Gaddie +composes and sings alone now; her sister, Miss Pamela, having +accompanied her missionary husband to the shores of benighted Bengal, to +aid in his labors for the conversion of the heathen world. +</p> + +<p> +"Well," said Miss Jerusha, as she sank down in a soft-cushioned chair +beside Mrs. Sykes, with a pair of checked muslin night-caps in her hand; +"what's the good word with you, sister, these suffocating days?" +</p> + +<p> +"La! nothing, sister Jerusha, as I know of. My girl, Hannah, has gone +off and left me, so I have to keep close at home and slave myself with +hard work all the time, and have no opportunity to learn what's going on +about town," answered Mrs. Sykes, in a doleful voice. +</p> + +<p> +"Why, where has your girl, Hannah, gone?" asked Miss Jerusha, +sympathetically; "I never heard a word about her leaving your service." +</p> + +<p> +"She didn't leave me of her own free will;—catch Hannah to go away from +this roof, unless she was bejuggled by other folks. But she'll repent +her rashness when 'tis too late, I'm afeard," said Mrs. Sykes. +</p> + +<p> +"Why, didn't you know Hannah Smith had gone to work for the widow +Orville?" inquired Mrs. Fleetfoot, looking up from the blue yarn sock +she was knitting, which was destined, no doubt, to convert some +half-naked Burman boy from the errors of paganism. "La, I heard of it a +fortnight ago!" +</p> + +<p> +"You did,—did you, Mrs. Fleetfoot?" exclaimed Mrs. Sykes, in rather a +hasty tone; for a mild-hearted Christian; "well, she hasn't been gone +from me a week yet." +</p> + +<p> +"Do tell! Well, I heard she thought of going, then, or something like +it, I can't exactly remember what," drawled Mrs. Feetfoot, not a whit +disconcerted by the contradiction her words had received. +</p> + +<p> +"So Mrs. Orville coaxed Hannah away from you?" said Miss Jerusha. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, just as the summer's work was coming on, too; but she'll have to +suffer for it," said Mrs. Sykes, with a fearfully resigned expression of +countenance. +</p> + +<p> +"Of course she will," returned Miss Sharpwell; "but what could Mrs. +Orville want with a hired girl,—nobody but herself and Alice in the +family? It seems a selfish, malicious desire to inconvenience you, her +coaxing Hannah off." +</p> + +<p> +"La!" put in Mrs. Fleetwood, "didn't you know Mrs. Orville had got a +whole houseful of company from the south? I knew it a month ago." +</p> + +<p> +"She hasn't got anybody in the world but two cousins of Alice's, and a +husband of one of them, and they haven't been there a week, till +to-morrow evening," said Mrs. Sykes. +</p> + +<p> +"O, is that all? Well, I heard something about it, I couldn't exactly +recollect what it was," again drawled Mrs. Fleetfoot, closing the toe of +her yarn sock, and holding it up to admire the proportions; no doubt +breathing a silent prayer that it might be useful in saving some "soul +from death." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, Mrs. Fleetfoot," observed Mrs. Sykes, "did you know that Fred. +Milder had come home from Texas to marry Alice Orville?" +</p> + +<p> +"La, yes!" responded that Christian lady; "that's an old story, +everybody knows." +</p> + +<p> +"Why, I never heard of it before," said Miss Jerusha, pinning a little +blue bow on the top of the muslin cap, to make it look <i>tasty</i>, as +she observed. +</p> + +<p> +"Neither did I," answered Mrs. Sykes, casting, as we thought, but it +could not be, however, a glance of malicious triumph on Mrs. Fleetfoot; +"but he travelled home in company with Mrs. Orville's visitors, and I +often see him walking on the lake-shore with the young, unmarried lady, +Miss Josephine, I believe, is her name; and I just thought in my own +mind that would be a match." +</p> + +<p> +"Very likely," said Miss Jerusha. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, I remember now, 'twas that strange lady I heard he was engaged +to, and not Miss Alice," remarked Fleetfoot, with perfect equanimity; +"and Alice, they say, has got a beau off south, and that's what makes +her so mopish at times." +</p> + +<p> +"Perhaps it is as sister Fleetfoot says," observed Jerusha; "for Alice +is certainly changed from what she used to be. She never attends our +circle now, and seldom goes to church. I wonder how she does pass her +time?" +</p> + +<p> +"'Tis more than I can tell," answered Mrs. Sykes; "there was always +something mysterious about those Orvilles, to me. But I shall be obliged +to go home, sister Jerusha, to attend to my work, as I've no servant," +continued the wronged lady, rising, and depositing her work in the +treasurer's box. +</p> + +<p> +"I'm sorry you must go, sister Sykes," said Jerusha; "but be of good +cheer, and I'll drop in and see you in the course of the week." +</p> + +<p> +"Pray, do, sister Sharpwell; I need all the aid and sympathy of +Christian hearts to sustain my soul," said Mrs. Sykes, with a ruefully +pious countenance, as she took her departure. +</p> + +<p> +The meeting progressed. Fast flew the nimble fingers of the devoted +laborers in the good cause; and could the poor heathen have known what +mighty exertions this band of benevolent, self-denying females, who +basked in the noontide glory of the sun of righteousness, were making +for their liberation from the thrall of pagan darkness and superstition, +we doubt not that they would have prostrated themselves by millions +before the shrine of their great idol, Juggernaut, and devoutly invoked +him to pardon and forgive the poor, deluded victims of a false religion, +and bring them all under his sublime sway and holy dominion. +</p> + +<p> +At length, Miss Gaddie was called on to sing the parting hymn. The lady +president delivered herself of a most eloquent and oratorical harangue, +during which the benevolent rose to a tremendous pitch, which nothing +could calm off but the call to supper. +</p> + +<p> +This well-furnished meal dispensed, the "Ladies' Literary Benevolent +Combination for Foreign Aid" adjourned to the next Wednesday, at the +house of Mrs. Dorothy Sykes, Highflyer Street; which Christian lady was +aghast with terror and dismay, when she learned this batch of +benevolence was assigned over to her for its next meeting. +</p> + +<p> +"O, mercy!" she feelingly exclaimed; "and I've no girl to assist me, and +my house will be turned topsy-turvy, new parlor carpet ruined,—and, +besides, they'll eat us out of house and home, and Mr. Sykes is +<i>so</i> close-fisted!" +</p> + +<p> +"But I hope 'twill be a rainy day," she added, by way of consolation. +</p> + +<p> +Truly, benevolence does cost a great deal! +</p> + + + + +<p class="chapter"> +CHAPTER XVI. +</p> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>"My task is done; my song hath ceased; my theme</p> +<p class="i2">Has died into an echo. It is fit</p> +<p>The spell should break of this protracted dream.</p> +<p class="i2">The torch shall be extinguished which hath lit</p> +<p>My midnight lamp,—and what is writ, is writ;</p> +<p class="i2">Would it were worthier, but I am not now</p> +<p>That which I have been, and my visions flit</p> +<p class="i2">Less palpably before me—and the glow</p> +<p>Which in my spirit dwelt, is fluttering, faint and low."</p></div></div><br> + + +<p> +The cousins, Alice Orville and Josephine Camford, sat together in a +vine-clad arbor on the shore of Lake Erie. +</p> + +<p> +"I cannot express the joy I feel at beholding you again, dear Pheny; +learning of your welfare, and finding you so happy in the contemplation +of the future," said Alice. +</p> + +<p> +"None can tell what the future may bring," answered Josephine. "All is +vague and uncertain. I never believe anything is to be mine till I +really possess it." +</p> + +<p> +"And so you won't believe Fred. Milder is yours till the nuptial knot is +tied?" said Alice, smiling. +</p> + +<p> +"No, not fully,—not without a shadow of doubt," returned Josephine, +laughing in turn. +</p> + +<p> +"But, Alice, when are you going to get married?" +</p> + +<p> +"Never!" was the quick response. +</p> + +<p> +"Nonsense! Where's that pale, intellectual young man, who used to call +so frequently on you when you first arrived in New Orleans?" +</p> + +<p> +"I have never seen or heard from him since I returned home," answered +Alice, averting her face. +</p> + +<p> +"That's nothing to the purpose, cous. I see you have not forgotten him." +</p> + +<p> +"O, no!" +</p> + +<p> +"And never will?" +</p> + +<p> +"I can't say that." +</p> + +<p> +"I can, though. Come, let's return to the house. I suspect Fred. is +waiting for me to take my promised stroll on the lake shore. How do you +like sister Susette's husband, Alice?" +</p> + +<p> +"I think him a very accomplished gentleman," replied Alice, as they +walked toward the house. +</p> + +<p> +"So I think," said Josephine. "His superior could hardly be found in any +of our large cities. Did you know poor Celestina had heard from her +faithless husband? He pleads for forgiveness and promises to return if +she will receive him. It appears he and brother Jack have amassed a +large fortune in Australia." +</p> + +<p> +"Indeed! I am rejoiced to hear so good tidings of the adventurers. Is +Celestina still in the convent to which she retired?" +</p> + +<p> +"She is; but proposes to leave it and accompany us to Texas on our +return to that country. Whether she will receive her husband I cannot +say, but will hazard an opinion that, should she one day behold him at +her feet imploring pardon, love would overpower all remembrance of +former wrongs. But there's Fred.," added the joyous-hearted girl. "I +must away to meet him." +</p> + +<p> +"Where?" asked Alice, gazing on all sides. +</p> + +<p> +"There, walking down that avenue of poplars!" returned Josephine. "I saw +him some moments since,"—love is so quick-sighted when its object is at +hand, and so abstracted when it is at a distance,—and Josephine hurried +away to meet her lover, leaving Alice to stroll onward by herself. +Presently, Hannah, the servant-girl that Mrs. Sykes, the benevolent +lady, averred had been "bejuggled" from her by Mrs. Orville, came +through the garden at full speed, exclaiming, "Miss Alice, there be a +gentleman in the parlor waitin' to see ye!" +</p> + +<p> +On hearing this message, Alice accelerated her steps to reach the house, +and retired to her room a few moments to adjust her dress before +entering the presence of her visitor. +</p> + +<p> +Reader! that truant-knight, for whom we went in search so long ago, is +found at last. +</p> + +<hr class="short"> + +<p> +Far down "<i>la belle riviere</i>" floated the fairy white steamboat on +its winding-way to Louisville, while the joy-groups danced and sung by +the clear moonlight over the airy decks. +</p> + +<p> +And now once more adown the proud-rolling Mississippi, we see that +"floating-palace," the Eclipse, cutting her way through the foamy +waters. How, all day long, the verdure-clad shores smile up to the +clear, cerulean heaven that arches above! And how the moonbeams pour +their silvery light down on the sleeping earth! and all the while, by +night and day, the boat sweeps proudly onward. +</p> + +<p> +Among the hundreds of passengers that roam the decks and guards, we +recognize two familiar faces; and our eyes love to linger on them, for +they are redolent with happiness. One of them is that of the dreamy, +abstracted girl we noticed years ago, leaning over the balustrades of +this same queenly boat as she approached New Orleans. But she was alone +then. Now; a manly form is bending over her, and whispering words we +cannot hear; nor do we need to hear them to know they carry joy to the +listening ear, for her dark eye glows with happiness, as she looks +confidingly in the face of the speaker, and utters something which +brings the same joy-light over his fine, intellectual features. +</p> + +<p> +Now you do not wish us to tell you, reader, that Wayland Morris and +Alice Orville are man and wife; and that they, in company with Fred. +Milder and wife, and Susette and husband, are bound for New Orleans, to +surprise Winnie Lester in her regal home. Your intuition has revealed +all this to you e'er now, and you have pictured in your minds how blank +with amazement young Mrs. Lester's pretty face will be when she beholds +this "family-group" in her elegant drawing-room, all eager to welcome +and be welcomed, and overflowing with exuberant life and gladness, as +people ordinarily are when they get safely off one of those beautiful, +but treacherous western steam-palaces. +</p> + +<p> +All this your vivid imaginations will easily portray in far more glowing +and picturesque colors than our poor pencil can paint. So we leave you +to conjure up all the bright visions you choose with which to deck the +futures of our young debutants in the great drama of wedded life. And +some of you young writers, who thirst for fame's thorny laurels, may +touch your inspired pens to paper, and give us a sequel to this hasty, +ill-finished tale, a true production of our "fast" age. +</p> + +<p> +In conclusion, let us say, that years after these events transpired, as +the "Eclipse" passed up and down the Mississippi, on her trips to and +from New Orleans, the jocular clerk was wont to call the attention of +his passengers to a beautiful English cottage, surrounded by vines and +shrubbery, which stood on the Tennessee shore, and exclaim, "The +dwellers in that cottage learned their first lesson of love on the +guards of the Eclipse." +</p> + +<br> +<hr class="med"> +<br> + + +<h3> +<a name="401">COME TO ME WHEN I'M DYING. +<br><br> +A SONG.</a> +</h3><br> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Come to me when I'm dying;</p> +<p class="i2">Gaze on my wasted form,</p> +<p>Tired with so long defying</p> +<p class="i2">Life's ever-rushing storm.</p> +<p>Come, come when I am dying,</p> +<p class="i2">And stand beside my bed,</p> +<p>Ere yet my soul is flying,</p> +<p class="i2">And I am cold and dead.</p></div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Bend low and lower o'er me,</p> +<p class="i2">For I've a word to say</p> +<p>Though death is just before me,</p> +<p class="i2">Ere I can go away.</p> +<p>Now that my soul is hovering</p> +<p class="i2">Upon the verge of day,</p> +<p>For thee I'll lift the covering</p> +<p class="i2">That veils its quivering ray.</p></div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>O, ne'er had I thus spoken</p> +<p class="i2">In health's bright, rosy glow!</p> +<p>But death my pride hath broken,</p> +<p class="i2">And brought my spirit low.</p> +<p>Though now this last revealing</p> +<p class="i2">Quickens life's curdling springs,</p> +<p>And a half-timid feeling</p> +<p class="i2">Faint flushes o'er me flings.</p></div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Bend lower yet above me,</p> +<p class="i2">For I would have thee know</p> +<p>How passing well I love thee,</p> +<p class="i2">And joy to tell thee so.</p> +<p>This love, so purely welling</p> +<p class="i2">Up in this heart of mine,</p> +<p>O, hath it e'er found dwelling</p> +<p class="i2">Within thy spirit's shrine?</p></div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>I've prayed my God, in meekness,</p> +<p class="i2">To give me some control</p> +<p>Over this earthly weakness</p> +<p class="i2">That so enthralled my soul;</p> +<p>And now my soul rejoices</p> +<p class="i2">While sweetly-thrilling strains,</p> +<p>From low, harmonious voices,</p> +<p class="i2">Soothe all my dying pains.</p></div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>They sing of the Eternal,</p> +<p class="i2">Whose throne is far above,</p> +<p>Where zephyrs softly vernal</p> +<p class="i2">Float over bowers of love;</p> +<p>Of hopes and joys, earth-blighted,</p> +<p class="i2">Blooming 'neath cloudless skies,</p> +<p>Of hearts and souls united</p> +<p class="i2">In love that never dies.</p></div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>'Tis there, 'tis there I'll meet thee</p> +<p class="i2">When life's brief day is o'er;</p> +<p>O, with what joy to greet thee</p> +<p class="i2">On that eternal shore!</p> +<p>Farewell! for death is chilling</p> +<p class="i2">My pulses swift and fast;</p> +<p>And yet in God I'm willing</p> +<p class="i2">This hour should be my last.</p></div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Sometimes, when day declineth,</p> +<p class="i2">And all the gorgeous west</p> +<p>In gold and purple shineth,</p> +<p class="i2">Go to my place of rest;</p> +<p>And if thy voice in weeping,</p> +<p class="i2">Is borne upon the air,</p> +<p>Think not of me as sleeping;</p> +<p class="i2">All cold and silent there:—</p></div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>But turn, with glances tender,</p> +<p class="i2">Toward a shining star,</p> +<p>Whose rays with chastened splendor</p> +<p class="i2">Fall on thee from afar.</p> +<p>And know the blissful dwelling</p> +<p class="i2">Where I am waiting thee,</p> +<p>When Jordan fiercely swelling</p> +<p class="i2">Shall set thy spirit free.</p></div></div> + +<br> +<hr class="med"> +<br> + + + +<h3> +<a name="404">ELLEN.</a> +</h3><br> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Sweet star, of seraph brightness,</p> +<p class="i2">That for a transient day</p> +<p>Shed o'er our souls such lightness,</p> +<p class="i2">And then withdrew the ray!</p> +<p>O, with immortal lustre</p> +<p class="i2">Thou 'rt sparkling brightly now</p> +<p>Amid the gems that cluster</p> +<p class="i2">Around Jehovah's brow!</p></div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Yet many hearts are keeping</p> +<p class="i2">Lone vigils o'er thy grave,</p> +<p>Where all the hopes are sleeping</p> +<p class="i2">Which thy young promise gave.</p> +<p>The sleep which knows no waking</p> +<p class="i2">Hath closed thy sweet blue eyes,</p> +<p>And while our hearts are breaking</p> +<p class="i2">We glance toward the skies.</p></div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Ah! there a hope is given</p> +<p class="i2">That bids us dry the tear;</p> +<p>That bright star in the heaven,</p> +<p class="i2">With beams so wondrous clear;—</p> +<p>'Tis Ellen's "distant Aidenn,"</p> +<p class="i2">Far in the realms above,</p> +<p>And those clear rays are laden</p> +<p class="i2">With her pure spirit's love.</p></div></div> + + +<br> +<hr class="med"> +<br> + +<h3> +<a name="405">I'M TIRED OF LIFE.</a> +</h3><br> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>I'm tired, I'm tired of life, brother!</p> +<p class="i2">Of all that meets my eye;</p> +<p>And my weary spirit fain would pass</p> +<p class="i2">To worlds beyond the sky.</p> +<p>For there is naught on earth, brother,</p> +<p class="i2">For which I'd wish to live;</p> +<p>Not all the glittering gauds of wealth</p> +<p class="i2">One hour of peace can give.</p></div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>I'm weary,—sick at heart, brother,</p> +<p class="i2">Of heartless pomp and show!</p> +<p>And ever comes some cloud to dim</p> +<p class="i2">The little joy I know.</p> +<p>This world is not the world, brother,</p> +<p class="i2">It seemed in days agone,</p> +<p>When I viewed it through the rainbow mists</p> +<p class="i2">Of childhood's rosy dawn.</p></div> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>I would not pain your heart, brother—</p> +<p class="i2">I know you love me well;</p> +<p>And that love is laid upon my soul,</p> +<p class="i2">E'en as a holy spell.</p> +<p>But I'm weary of this world, brother,</p> +<p class="i2">This world of sin and care;</p> +<p>And my spirit fluttereth to be free,</p> +<p class="i2">To mount the upper air!</p></div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>I know not of the world, brother,</p> +<p class="i2">To which I wish to go;</p> +<p>And perhaps my soul may there awake</p> +<p class="i2">To know a deeper woe!</p> +<p>They say the pure of earth, brother,</p> +<p class="i2">Find there undying bliss;</p> +<p>While all the wicked ones are cast</p> +<p class="i2">Into a dark abyss!</p></div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>I look upon the stars, brother,</p> +<p class="i2">That gem the vault of blue;</p> +<p>And when they tell me "God is love,"</p> +<p class="i2">I feel it must be true;</p> +<p>For I see on all around, brother,</p> +<p class="i2">The impress of a hand</p> +<p>That blendeth and uniteth all</p> +<p class="i2">In one harmonious band.</p></div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>I am that which I am, brother,</p> +<p class="i2">As the Creator made;</p> +<p>To <i>Him</i>, all-holy and all-pure,</p> +<p class="i2">No fault can e'er be laid.</p> +<p>He knows my weakness well, brother,</p> +<p class="i2">And I can trust his love</p> +<p>To bear me safe through Jordan's stream</p> +<p class="i2">To brighter worlds above.</p></div></div> + +<br> +<hr class="med"> +<br> + + +<h3> +<a name="407">LINES TO A FRIEND,</a></h3> +<h3>ON REMOVING FROM HER NATIVE VILLAGE. +</h3><br> + +<div class="poemtext"> +<div class="stanzatext"> +<p class="i8">The golden rays of sunset fall on a snow-clad hill,</p> +<p class="i8">As standing by my window I gaze there long and still.</p> +<p class="i8">I see a roof and a chimney, and some tall elms standing near,</p> +<p class="i8">While the winds that sway their branches bring voices to my ear.</p></div> + +<div class="stanzatext"> +<p class="i8">They tell of a darkened hearth-stone, that once shone bright and gay,</p> +<p class="i8">And of old familiar faces that have sadly passed away;</p> +<p class="i8">How a stranger on the threshold with careless aspect stands,</p> +<p class="i8">And gazes on the acres that have passed into his hands.</p></div> + +<div class="stanzatext"> +<p class="i8">I shudder, as these voices, so fraught with mournful woe,</p> +<p class="i8">Steal on my spirit's hearing, in cadence sad and low,</p> +<p class="i8">And think I will not hear them—but, ah! who can control</p> +<p class="i8">The gloomy thoughts that enter and brood upon the soul?</p></div> + +<div class="stanzatext"> +<p class="i8">So, turning from my window, while darkness deepens round,</p> +<p class="i8">And the wailing winds sweep onward with yet more piteous sound,</p> +<p class="i8">I feel within my bosom far wilder whirlwinds start,</p> +<p class="i8">And sweep the cloudy heaven that bends above my heart.</p></div> + +<div class="stanzatext"> +<p class="i8">I have no power to quell them; so let them rage and roar,</p> +<p class="i8">The sooner will their raging and fury all be o'er;</p> +<p class="i8">I've seen Atlantic's billows 'neath tempests fiercely swell,</p> +<p class="i8">But O, the calm succeeding, I have no words to tell!</p></div> + +<div class="stanzatext"> +<p class="i8">I think of you, and wonder if you are happy now;</p> +<p class="i8">Floats there no shade of sorrow at times across your brow?</p> +<p class="i8">When daily tasks are ended, and thought is free to roam,</p> +<p class="i8">Doth it not bear you swiftly back to that dear old home?</p></div> + +<div class="stanzatext"> +<p class="i8">And then, with wizard fingers, doth Memory open fast</p> +<p class="i8">A thrilling panorama of all the changeful past!</p> +<p class="i8">Where blending light and shadow skip airy o'er the scene,</p> +<p class="i8">Painting in vivid contrast what is and what has been.</p></div> + +<div class="stanzatext"> +<p class="i8">And say, does not your mother remember yet with tears</p> +<p class="i8">The spot where calm and peaceful have lapsed so many years?</p> +<p class="i8">O, would some kindly spirit might give us all to know</p> +<p class="i8">How much a tender parent will for a child forego!</p></div> + +<div class="stanzatext"> +<p class="i8">We prized your worth while with us; but now you're gone from sight,</p> +<p class="i8">We feel "how blessings brighten while they are taking flight."</p> +<p class="i8">O, don't forget the homestead upon the pleasant hill;</p> +<p class="i8">Nor yet the love-lit home you have in all our memories still!</p></div> + +<div class="stanzatext"> +<p class="i8">Come, often come to visit the haunts your childhood knew!</p> +<p class="i8">We pledge you earnest welcome, unbought, unfeigned and true.</p> +<p class="i8">And when before your vision new hopes and pleasure rise,</p> +<p class="i8">Turn sometimes with a sunny thought toward your native skies!</p></div></div> + +<br> +<hr class="med"> +<br> + + +<h3> +<a name="409">HO FOR CALIFORNIA!</a> +</h3><br> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Rouse ye, Yankees, from your dreaming!</p> +<p class="i2">See that vessel, strong and bold,</p> +<p>On her banner proudly streaming,</p> +<p class="i2">California for gold!</p> +<p>See a crowd around her gather,</p> +<p class="i2">Eager all to push from land!</p> +<p>They will have all sorts o' weather</p> +<p class="i2">Ere they reach the golden strand.</p> +<p class="i6">Rouse to action,</p> +<p class="i6">Fag and faction;</p> +<p>Ho, for mines of wealth untold!</p> +<p class="i6">Rally! Rally!</p> +<p class="i6">All for Cali-</p> +<p>Fornia in search of gold!</p> +<p class="i2">Away, amid the rush and racket,</p> +<p class="i2">Ho for the California packet!</p></div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Wake ye! O'er the surging ocean,</p> +<p class="i2">Loud above each coral cave,</p> +<p>Comes a sound of wild commotion</p> +<p class="i2">From the lands beyond the wave.</p> +<p>Riches, riches, greater—rarer,</p> +<p class="i2">Than Golconda's far-famed mines;</p> +<p>Ho for California's shores!</p> +<p class="i2">Where the gold so brightly shines.</p> +<p class="i6">O'er the ocean</p> +<p class="i6">All's commotion;</p> +<p>Ho for mines of wealth untold!</p> +<p class="i6">Countless treasure</p> +<p class="i6">Waits on pleasure;</p> +<p>Ho for California's gold!</p> +<p class="i2">Let us go the rush and racket,</p> +<p class="i2">On the Californian packet.</p></div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Hear the echo wildly ringing</p> +<p class="i2">Through our country far and wide!</p> +<p>Thousands leaving home and springing</p> +<p class="i2">Into the resistless tide.</p> +<p>Now our nation's roused from sleeping,</p> +<p class="i2">All alert and wide awake.</p> +<p>O, there's no such thing as keeping</p> +<p class="i2">Folks asleep when gold's the stake!</p> +<p class="i6">Old Oregon</p> +<p class="i6">We'll look not on;</p> +<p>Ho, for mines of wealth untold!</p> +<p class="i6">We'll take our way,</p> +<p class="i6">Without delay,</p> +<p>In search of gold—of glittering gold!</p> +<p class="i2">Here we go, amid the racket,</p> +<p class="i2">On the Californian packet!</p></div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Yankees! all who have the fever,</p> +<p class="i2">Go the rush without delay!</p> +<p>Take a spade and don your beaver;</p> +<p class="i2">Tell your friends you must away!</p> +<p>You will get a sight o' money;</p> +<p class="i2">Reap perhaps a hundred-fold!</p> +<p>O, it would be precious funny</p> +<p class="i2">To sit in a hall of gold!</p> +<p class="i6">Let's be going,</p> +<p class="i6">Gales are blowing,</p> +<p>Ho, all hands for digging gold!</p> +<p class="i6">Romance throwing</p> +<p class="i6">Colors glowing</p> +<p>Round these mines of wealth untold!</p> +<p class="i2">Ho, we go amid the racket,</p> +<p class="i2">On the Californian packet!</p></div></div> + +<br> +<hr class="med"> +<br> + + +<h3> +<a name="411">N. P. ROGERS.</a> +</h3><br> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Rogers, will not future story</p> +<p class="i2">Tell thy glorious fame?</p> +<p>And in hues of living glory</p> +<p class="i2">Robe thy spotless name?</p></div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>There was more than mortal seeming</p> +<p class="i2">In thy wondrous eye,—</p> +<p>Like a silv'ry star-ray gleaming</p> +<p class="i2">Through a liquid <i>sky</i>.</p></div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Of that angel spirit telling,</p> +<p class="i2">Noble, clear and bright,</p> +<p>In thy "inner temple" dwelling,</p> +<p class="i2">Veiled from mortal sight!</p></div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Of that spirit meek and lowly,</p> +<p class="i2">Yet so bold and free,</p> +<p>In its all-absorbing, holy,</p> +<p class="i2">Love of Liberty.</p></div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Thou didst leave us, gentle brother,</p> +<p class="i2">In thy manhood's pride;</p> +<p>And we vainly seek another</p> +<p class="i2">Heart so true and tried!</p></div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Thou art dwelling with the angels</p> +<p class="i2">In the spirit land!</p> +<p>Chanting low and sweet evangels,</p> +<p class="i2">'Mid a seraph band.</p></div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>But when Freedom's champions rally</p> +<p class="i2">'Gainst the despot's sway,</p> +<p>Then they mourn the friend and ally</p> +<p class="i2">That has passed away.</p></div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>And when Liberty's bright banner</p> +<p class="i2">Waves o'er land and sea,</p> +<p>And is heard the loud hosanna</p> +<p class="i2">Of the ransomed free,—</p></div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>On its silken folds, in letters</p> +<p class="i2">Traced with diamond bright,</p> +<p>Shall thy name, the foe of fetters,</p> +<p class="i2">Blaze in hues of light!</p></div></div> + +<br> +<hr class="med"> +<br> + + +<h3> +<a name="413">LINES.</a> +</h3><br> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>I hied me to the ocean-side;</p> +<p class="i2">Its waves rolled bright and high;</p> +<p>Upon its waters, spreading wide,</p> +<p class="i2">I gazed with beaming eye.</p> +<p>At last, at last, I said, is found</p> +<p class="i2">A charm to banish pain,—</p> +<p>Here, where the sprightly billows bound</p> +<p class="i2">Athwart the heaving main.</p></div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>The pebbly beach I wandered o'er</p> +<p class="i2">At morn and evening's hour,</p> +<p>Or listening to the breakers' roar,</p> +<p class="i2">Or wondering at their power.</p> +<p>Beneath their din I madly sought,</p> +<p class="i2">With ev'ry nerve bestirred,</p> +<p>To drown for aye the demon, thought,—</p> +<p class="i2">But, ah! he <i>would be heard</i>.</p></div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>He found a voice my ear to reach,</p> +<p class="i2">To pierce my aching breast,</p> +<p>In every wave that swept the beach</p> +<p class="i2">With proud, defiant crest.</p> +<p>And when the moon, with silver light,</p> +<p class="i2">Smiled o'er the waters blue,</p> +<p>It seemed to say "There's nothing bright</p> +<p class="i2">O'er all this earth for you."</p></div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Scarce half a moon have I been here,</p> +<p class="i2">Beside the sounding sea,</p> +<p>In hope its echoings in my ear</p> +<p class="i2">Might drown out memory;</p> +<p>Or might instil some vital life</p> +<p class="i2">Into this feeble frame,</p> +<p>Long spent and wasted by the strife</p> +<p class="i2">Wide-wrought against my name.</p></div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>In vain, in vain!—nor sea, nor shore,</p> +<p class="i2">Nor any mortal thing,</p> +<p>Can to my cheek health's bloom restore,</p> +<p class="i2">Or clear my life's well-spring.</p> +<p>And yet there is a sea whose waves</p> +<p class="i2">Will roll above us all,—</p> +<p>Within its vasty depths are graves</p> +<p class="i2">Beyond all mortal call.</p></div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>With what an awful note of dirge</p> +<p class="i2">This shoreless ocean rolls—</p> +<p>Bearing on its tremendous surge</p> +<p class="i2">The wealth of human souls!</p> +<p>——The Ocean of Eternity,—</p> +<p class="i2">O, let its billows sweep</p> +<p>O'er one that longeth to be free,</p> +<p class="i2">And sleep the dreamless sleep!</p></div></div> + +<br> +<hr class="med"> +<br> + + +<h3> +<a name="415">HENRY CLAY.</a> +</h3><br> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Wail, winds of summer, as ye sweep</p> +<p class="i6">The arching skies;</p> +<p>O, let your echoes swell with deep,</p> +<p class="i6">Woe-piercing cries!</p></div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Old ocean, with a heavy surge,</p> +<p class="i6">Cold, black and drear,</p> +<p>Roll thou the solemn note of dirge</p> +<p class="i6">On Europe's ear!</p></div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Sweet stars, that calmly, purely bright,</p> +<p class="i6">Look down below,</p> +<p>O, pity with your eyes of light</p> +<p class="i6">A Nation's woe!</p></div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Thou source of day, that rollest on</p> +<p class="i6">Though tempests frown,</p> +<p>Thou mind'st us of another sun</p> +<p class="i6">That has gone down!</p></div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Gone down,—no more may mortal eye</p> +<p class="i6">Its face behold!</p> +<p>Gone down,—yet leaving on the sky</p> +<p class="i6">A tinge of gold!</p></div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Ah, yes! Columbia, pause to hear</p> +<p class="i6">The note of dread;</p> +<p>'Twill smite like iron on the ear;—</p> +<p class="i6">Our Clay is dead!</p></div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Our Clay; the patriot, statesman, sage,</p> +<p class="i6">The Nation's pride,</p> +<p>With giant minds of every age</p> +<p class="i6">Identified!</p></div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>That form of manliness and strength</p> +<p class="i6">In Senate hall,</p> +<p>Is lying at a fearful length</p> +<p class="i6">Beneath the pall!</p></div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>That voice of eloquence no more</p> +<p class="i6">Suspends the breath;</p> +<p>Its matchless power to charm is o'er—</p> +<p class="i6">'Tis hushed in death!</p></div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Thrice noble spirit! can we bow,</p> +<p class="i6">And kiss the rod?</p> +<p>With resignation yield thee now</p> +<p class="i6">Back to thy God?</p></div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>And where, where shall we turn to find</p> +<p class="i6">Now thou 'rt at rest,</p> +<p>A soul so lofty, just and kind,</p> +<p class="i6">As warmed thy breast?</p></div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>We bear thee, with a flood of tears,</p> +<p class="i6">Unto thy tomb;</p> +<p>There thou must sleep till rolling years</p> +<p class="i6">Have met their doom!</p></div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>But thy bright fame and memory</p> +<p class="i6">Shall send a chime</p> +<p>From circling ages down to the</p> +<p class="i6">Remotest time!</p></div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>O, may thy mantle fall on some</p> +<p class="i6">Of this our day,</p> +<p>And shed upon the years to come</p> +<p class="i6">A happy ray!</p></div></div> + +<br> +<hr class="med"> +<br> + + +<h3> +<a name="417">THE SOUL'S DESTINY.</a> +</h3><br> + + +<div class="poemtext"> +<div class="stanzatext"> +<p class="i6">In the liquid vault of ether hung the starry gems of light,</p> +<p class="i6">Blazing with unwonted splendor on the ebon brow of night;</p> +<p class="i6">Far across the arching concave like a train of silver lay,</p> +<p class="i6">Nebulous, and white, and dreamy, heaven's star-wrought Milky Way.</p></div> + +<div class="stanzatext"> +<p class="i6">I was gazing, gazing upward, all my senses captive fraught,</p> +<p class="i6">From the earnest contemplation of celestial glories caught,</p> +<p class="i6">When the thought arose within me, as the ages onward roll</p> +<p class="i6">What may be th' eternal portion of the vast, th' immortal soul?</p></div> + +<div class="stanzatext"> +<p class="i6">When the crimson tide of Nature ceases from its ruddy flow,</p> +<p class="i6">And these decaying bodies mouldering are so cold and low,</p> +<p class="i6">And the loathsome grave-worm feeding on the still and pulseless heart,</p> +<p class="i6">Where may be the immortal spirit, what may be its deathless part?</p></div> + +<div class="stanzatext"> +<p class="i6">Deep and far within the ether stretched my eyes their anxious gaze,</p> +<p class="i6">While the swelling thoughts within me grew a wild and wildered maze,</p> +<p class="i6">Then came floating on the distance, softly to my listening ears,</p> +<p class="i6">Low, thrilling harmonies of worlds whirling in their bright spheres.</p></div> + +<div class="stanzatext"> +<p class="i6">From the sparkling orb of Venus, sweetest star that gems the blue,</p> +<p class="i6">Soon a form of seraph beauty burst upon my raptured view;</p> +<p class="i6">Wavy robes were floating round her, and her richly-clustering hair</p> +<p class="i6">Lay like golden-wreathed moonbeams round her forehead young and fair.</p></div> + +<div class="stanzatext"> +<p class="i6">Then a company of seraphs gathered round this form so bright,</p> +<p class="i6">And unfurled their snowy pinions in those realms of crystal light,</p> +<p class="i6">Sweeping swiftly onward, onward with their music-breathing wings,</p> +<p class="i6">Till they passed the distant orbit where the mighty Neptune swings.</p></div> + +<div class="stanzatext"> +<p class="i6">Then from stormy, wild Orion, to the dragon's fiery roll,</p> +<p class="i6">And the sturdy Ursa Major tramping round the Boreal pole,</p> +<p class="i6">On to stately Argo Navis rearing diamond spars on high,</p> +<p class="i6">Starry bands of seraph wanderers clove the azure of the sky.</p></div> + +<div class="stanzatext"> +<p class="i6">Lofty awe and adoration all my throbbing bosom filled,</p> +<p class="i6">Every pulse and nerve in nature with ecstatic wonder thrilled.</p> +<p class="i6">O, were these bright, shining millions disembodied human souls,</p> +<p class="i6">That casting off earth's fettering bonds had gained immortal goals!</p></div> + +<div class="stanzatext"> +<p class="i6">On each face there beamed a brightness mortal words can ne'er rehearse,</p> +<p class="i6">Seemed it the concentred glory of the boundless universe.</p> +<p class="i6">O, 'twas light, 'twas love, 'twas wisdom, science, knowledge, all combined,</p> +<p class="i6">'Twas the ultimate perfection of the God-like human mind!</p></div> + +<div class="stanzatext"> +<p class="i6">One by one the constellations sank below the horizon's rim,</p> +<p class="i6">And with grief I found my starry vision growing earthly dim;</p> +<p class="i6">While all the thrilling harmonies, that filled the air around,</p> +<p class="i6">Died off in far, sweet echoings, within the dark profound.</p></div> + +<div class="stanzatext"> +<p class="i6">Bowing then with lowly seeming on the damp and dewy sod,</p> +<p class="i6">All my soul in adoration floated up to Nature's God,</p> +<p class="i6">While the struggling thoughts within me found voice in earnest prayer;</p> +<p class="i6">"Almighty Father, let my soul one day those glories share!"</p></div></div> + +<br> +<hr class="med"> +<br> + + +<h3> +<a name="419">LINES TO A MARRIED FRIEND.</a> +</h3><br> + + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>There are flowers that never wither,</p> +<p class="i2">There are skies that never fade,</p> +<p>There are trees that cast forever</p> +<p class="i2">Cooling bowers of leafy shade.</p> +<p>There are silver wavelets flowing,</p> +<p class="i2">With a lulling sound of rest,</p> +<p>Where the west wind softly blowing</p> +<p class="i2">Fans the far lands of the blest.</p></div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Thitherward our steps are tending,</p> +<p class="i2">Oft through dim, oppressive fears,</p> +<p>More of grief than pleasure blending</p> +<p class="i2">In the darkening woof of years.</p> +<p>Often would our footsteps weary</p> +<p class="i2">Sink upon the winding way,</p> +<p>But that, when all looks most dreary,</p> +<p class="i2">O'er us beams a cheering ray.</p></div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Thus the Father who hath made us</p> +<p class="i2">Tenants of this world of care,</p> +<p>Knoweth how to kindly aid us,</p> +<p class="i2">With the burdens we must bear.</p> +<p>Knoweth how to cause the spirit</p> +<p class="i2">Hopefully to raise its eyes</p> +<p>Toward the home it doth inherit</p> +<p class="i2">Far beyond the azure skies.</p></div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>There's a voice that whispers lowly,</p> +<p class="i2">Down within this heart of mine,</p> +<p>Where emotions the most holy</p> +<p class="i2">Ever make their sacred shrine;</p> +<p>And it tells a thrilling story</p> +<p class="i2">Of the Great Redeemer's love,</p> +<p>And the all-bewildering glory</p> +<p class="i2">Of the better land above.</p></div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>O, this life, with all its sorrows,</p> +<p class="i2">Hasteth onward to a close!</p> +<p>In a few more brief to-morrows</p> +<p class="i2">Will have ended all our woes.</p> +<p>Then o'er death the part immortal</p> +<p class="i2">Shall sublimely rise and soar</p> +<p>O'er the star-resplendent portal,</p> +<p class="i2">There to dwell for evermore.</p></div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>May we meet, no more to sever,</p> +<p class="i2">Where the weary are at rest,</p> +<p>Far beyond dark Jordan's river,</p> +<p class="i2">In the Canaan of the blest.</p> +<p>Guard the treasures God hath given</p> +<p class="i2">To thy tenderest nurturing care,</p> +<p>And upon the fields of heaven</p> +<p class="i2">Thou shalt see them blooming fair.</p></div></div> + +<br> +<hr class="med"> +<br> + + +<h3> +<a name="421">NEW ENGLAND SABBATH BELLS.</a> +</h3><br> + + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Methinks I hear those tuneful chimes,</p> +<p class="i2">Borne on the breath of morn,</p> +<p>Proclaiming to the silent world</p> +<p class="i2">Another Sabbath born.</p> +<p>With solemn sound they echo through</p> +<p class="i2">The stilly summer air,</p> +<p>Winning the heart of wayward man</p> +<p class="i2">Unto the house of prayer!</p></div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>New England's sweet church-going bells,</p> +<p class="i2">Their memory's very dear;</p> +<p>And oft in dreams we seem to hear</p> +<p class="i2">Them ringing loud and clear.</p> +<p>Again we see the village-spire</p> +<p class="i2">Pointing toward the skies;</p> +<p>And hear our reverend pastor tell</p> +<p class="i2">Of life that never dies!</p></div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>We see him moving down the aisle,</p> +<p class="i2">In light subdued and dim;</p> +<p>The while the organ's swelling notes</p> +<p class="i2">Chant forth the grateful hymn.</p> +<p>The forms of those our childhood knew,</p> +<p class="i2">By meadow, grove and hill,</p> +<p>Are gathering round with kindly looks,</p> +<p class="i2">As if they loved us still!</p></div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>In careless hours of gladsome youth,</p> +<p class="i2">'Twas our thrice-blessed lot,</p> +<p>To dwell upon New England's shores,</p> +<p class="i2">Where God is not forgot.</p> +<p>Where temples to his name are raised,</p> +<p class="i2">And where, on bended knee,</p> +<p>The Christian sends to heavenly courts</p> +<p class="i2">The worship of the free!</p></div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>New England's Sabbath chimes!—we love</p> +<p class="i2">Upon those words to dwell;</p> +<p>They fall upon our spirits with</p> +<p class="i2">A sweetly-soothing spell,</p> +<p>Bringing to mind those brighter days</p> +<p class="i2">When hope beamed on our way,</p> +<p>And life seemed to our souls but one</p> +<p class="i2">Pure and unclouded day!</p></div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>New England's Sabbath bells!—when last</p> +<p class="i2">We heard their merry chime,</p> +<p>The air was rife with pleasant sounds;</p> +<p class="i2">For 'twas the glad spring-time!</p> +<p>The robin to those tuneful peals</p> +<p class="i2">Poured forth a thrilling strain;</p> +<p>O, 'tis our dearest hope to hear</p> +<p class="i2">Those Sabbath bells again!</p></div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>For now we're many a weary mile</p> +<p class="i2">From that New England home;</p> +<p>In lands where laughing summer lies,</p> +<p class="i2">Our wandering footsteps roam.</p> +<p>But yet those sweetly-chiming bells</p> +<p class="i2">Those heavenward-pointing spires,</p> +<p>Awaken e'er the brightest glow</p> +<p class="i2">From memory's vestal-fires.</p></div></div> + +<br> +<hr class="med"> +<br> + + +<h3> +<a name="423">MY HEART.</a> +</h3><br> + + + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>List I to the hurried beatings</p> +<p class="i6">Of my heart;</p> +<p>How its quickened, loud repeatings</p> +<p class="i6">Make me start!</p></div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Often do I hear it throbbing</p> +<p class="i6">Fast and wild;</p> +<p>As I've heard it, after sobbing,</p> +<p class="i6">When a child.</p></div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Why so wild, so swift and heated,</p> +<p class="i6">Little heart?</p> +<p>Is there something in thee seated,</p> +<p class="i6">Baffling art?</p></div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Pain with all thy throbs is blended—</p> +<p class="i6">Pain so dread!</p> +<p>Oftentimes life seems suspended</p> +<p class="i6">By a thread!</p></div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Then thou'lt grow so still—like ocean</p> +<p class="i6">In its rest;—</p> +<p>Till I scarce can feel a motion</p> +<p class="i6">In my breast.</p></div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Think'st thy house is dark and dreary,</p> +<p class="i6">Veiled in night?</p> +<p>Art thou pining, sad and weary,</p> +<p class="i6">For the light?</p></div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Wouldst be free from the dominions</p> +<p class="i6">That control;</p> +<p>Spreading all thy golden pinions</p> +<p class="i6">Toward the goal?</p></div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Gladly, gladly, would I free thee</p> +<p class="i6">From Earth's thrall!</p> +<p>With what bliss and joy to see thee</p> +<p class="i6">Rise o'er all!</p></div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>But 'tis not for me to aid thee</p> +<p class="i6">In thy flight;</p> +<p>For the Holy One who made thee,</p> +<p class="i6">Doeth right.</p></div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>When his own good time arriveth,</p> +<p class="i6">Then will He,</p> +<p>From the load with which thou strivest,</p> +<p class="i6">Set thee free.</p></div></div> + + +<br> +<hr class="med"> +<br> + +<h3> +<a name="425">OUR HELEN.</a> +</h3><br> + + + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Our Helen is a "perfect love"</p> +<p class="i2">Of a blue-eyed baby;</p> +<p>When she's grown she'll be a belle,</p> +<p class="i2">And a "Venus," may be.</p></div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Such a cunning little mouth,</p> +<p class="i2">Lips as red as cherry,</p> +<p>And she smiles on all around</p> +<p class="i2">In a way so merry.</p></div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Laughs, and crows, and claps her hands,</p> +<p class="i2">Springs, and hops, and dances,</p> +<p>As if her little brain overflowed</p> +<p class="i2">With lively, tripping fancies.</p></div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Then she'll arch her pretty neck,</p> +<p class="i2">And toss her head so queenly,</p> +<p>And, when she's weary, fall asleep</p> +<p class="i2">And slumber so serenely.</p></div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>She has a cunning kind of way</p> +<p class="i2">Of looking sly and witty,</p> +<p>As if to say, in baby words,</p> +<p class="i2">"I know I'm very pretty."</p></div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>She bites her "mammy," scratches "nurse,"</p> +<p class="i2">And makes droll mouths at "pappy;"</p> +<p>We can but love the roguish thing,</p> +<p class="i2">She looks so bright and happy.</p></div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>The dinner-table seems to be</p> +<p class="i2">The crown of all her wishes,</p> +<p>For there the gypsy's sure to have</p> +<p class="i2">A hand in all the dishes.</p></div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>But why should we essay to sing</p> +<p class="i2">Her thousand sprightly graces?</p> +<p>She has the merriest of ways,</p> +<p class="i2">The prettiest of faces.</p></div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>We know she'll grow a peerless one,</p> +<p class="i2">With skin all white and pearly;</p> +<p>And laughing eyes, and auburn locks,</p> +<p class="i2">All silky, soft and curly.</p></div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Her baby laugh and sportive glee,</p> +<p class="i2">Her spirit's airy lightness,</p> +<p>Surround the pleasant prairie home</p> +<p class="i2">With hues of magic brightness.</p></div></div> + + +<br> +<hr class="med"> +<br> + +<h3> +<a name="427">MY BONNET OF BLUE.</a> +</h3><br> + + + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>My bonnet of blue, my bonnet of blue,</p> +<p>Its gossamer fineness I'll sing to you;</p> +<p>For a delicate fabric in sooth it was,</p> +<p>All trimmed and finified off with gauze.</p> +<p>My bonnet of blue, my bonnet of blue,</p> +<p>How well I remember thy azure hue!</p></div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>To church I wore it, one pleasant day,</p> +<p>Bedecked in ribbons of fanciful ray;</p> +<p>And all the while I sat on my seat</p> +<p>I thought of naught save my bonnet so neat.</p> +<p>My bonnet of blue, my bonnet of blue,</p> +<p>Broke not my heart when I bade thee adieu?</p></div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>When service was over, my steps I bent</p> +<p>Towards home, a-nodding my head as I went</p> +<p>But, alas for my bonnet! there came a wind</p> +<p>And blew it away, for the strings were not pinned.</p> +<p>My bonnet of blue, my bonnet of blue,</p> +<p>What shifting scenes have been thine to pass through!</p></div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>I raised my eyes to the calm, blue sky,</p> +<p>There sailed my bonnet serene and high!</p> +<p>O, what a feeling of hopeless woe</p> +<p>Stole over me then, no heart may know!</p> +<p>My bonnet of blue, my bonnet of blue,</p> +<p>As clear as the sky was thy azure hue!</p></div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>'Twas vain to mourn for my bonnet, and yet</p> +<p>It taught me a lesson I shall not forget;</p> +<p>'Twas, never to make you an idol of clay,</p> +<p>For when you best love them they'll fly away.</p> +<p>My bonnet of blue, my bonnet of blue,</p> +<p>I loved thee well, but thou wert untrue!</p></div></div> + + +<br> +<hr class="med"> +<br> + +<h3> +<a name="429">DARK-BROWED MARTHA.</a> +</h3><br> + + + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>When the frost-king clothed the forests</p> +<p class="i2">In a flood of gorgeous dyes,</p> +<p>Death called little dark-browed Martha</p> +<p class="i2">To her mansion in the skies.</p> +<p>'Twas a calm October Sabbath</p> +<p class="i2">When the bell with solemn sound</p> +<p>Knelled her to her quiet slumbers</p> +<p class="i2">Low down in the darksome ground.</p></div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Far away, where sun and summer</p> +<p class="i2">Reign in glory all the year,</p> +<p>Was the land she left behind her,</p> +<p class="i2">To her simple heart so dear.</p> +<p>There a mother and a brother,</p> +<p class="i2">Meeting oft at close of day,</p> +<p>Spoke in tender, tearful whispers</p> +<p class="i2">Of the loved one far away.</p></div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>"I am thinking," said the mother,</p> +<p class="i2">"How much Martha'll get to know,</p> +<p>And how smart and bright 'twill make her,</p> +<p class="i2">Travellin' round the country so.</p> +<p>'Spect she'll be a mighty lady,</p> +<p class="i2">Shinin' jewels in her ears;</p> +<p>But I hope she won't forget us,—</p> +<p class="i2">Dat is what dis poor heart fears."</p></div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>"'Deed she won't," then spoke the brother,</p> +<p class="i2">"Martha'll love us just as well</p> +<p>As before she parted from us,—</p> +<p class="i2">Trust me, mammy, I can tell."</p> +<p>Then he passed a hand in silence</p> +<p class="i2">O'er his damp and swarthy brow,</p> +<p>Brushed a tear from off the eyelid,—</p> +<p class="i2">"O that she were with us now!"</p></div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>"Pshaw! don't cry, Lem," said the mother,</p> +<p class="i2">"There's no need of that at all;</p> +<p>Massa said he'd bring her to us</p> +<p class="i2">When the nuts began to fall.</p> +<p>The pecans will soon be rattling</p> +<p class="i2">From the tall plantation trees,</p> +<p>She'll be here to help us pick them,</p> +<p class="i2">Brisk and merry as you please."</p></div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Thus they talked, while she they waited</p> +<p class="i2">From the earth had passed away;</p> +<p>Walked no more in pleasant places,</p> +<p class="i2">Saw no more the light of day;</p> +<p>Knew no more of toilsome labor,</p> +<p class="i2">Spiteful threats or angry blows;</p> +<p>For the Heavenly One had called her</p> +<p class="i2">Early from a life of woes.</p></div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Folded we the tiny fingers</p> +<p class="i2">On the cold, unmoving breast;</p> +<p>Robed her in a decent garment,</p> +<p class="i2">For her long and dreamless rest;</p> +<p>And when o'er the tranquil Sabbath</p> +<p class="i2">Evening's rays began to fall,</p> +<p>Followed her with heavy footsteps</p> +<p class="i2">To the home that waits us all.</p></div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>As we paused beside the churchyard,</p> +<p class="i2">Where the tall green maples rise,</p> +<p>Strangers came and viewed the sleeper,</p> +<p class="i2">With sad wonder in their eyes;</p> +<p>While my thoughts flew to that mother,</p> +<p class="i2">And that brother far away:</p> +<p>How they'd weep and wail, if conscious</p> +<p class="i2">This was Martha's burial day!</p></div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<p>When the coffin had been lowered</p> +<p class="i2">Carefully into the ground,</p> +<p>And the heavy sods fell on it</p> +<p class="i2">With a cold and hollow sound,</p> +<p>Thought I, as we hastened homewards,</p> +<p class="i2">By the day's expiring light,</p> +<p>Martha never slept so sweetly</p> +<p class="i2">As she'll sleep this Sabbath night.</p></div></div> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Eventide, by Effie Afton + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK EVENTIDE *** + +***** This file should be named 20185-h.htm or 20185-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various 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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: Eventide + A Series of Tales and Poems + +Author: Effie Afton + +Release Date: December 26, 2006 [EBook #20185] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK EVENTIDE *** + + + + +Produced by Curtis Weyant and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was +produced from images produced by the Wright American Fiction +Project.) + + + + + + + EVENTIDE + + A SERIES OF + + TALES AND POEMS. + + + + BY + + EFFIE AFTON. + + + "I never gaze + Upon the evening, but a tide of awe, + And love, and wonder, from the Infinite, + Swells up within me, as the running brine + From the smooth-glistening, wide-heaving sea, + Grows in the creeks and channels of a stream, + Until it threats its, banks. It is not joy,-- + 'Tis sadness more divine." + + ALEXANDER SMITH. + + + + BOSTON: + + FETRIDGE AND COMPANY. + + 1854. + + + + Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1854, by + + J. M. HARPER, + + In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the + District of Massachusetts. + + + + Stereotyped by + HOBART & ROBBINS, + New England Type and Stereotype Foundery, + BOSTON. + + + + + _To the_ + + FIRESIDES OF THE WESTERN WORLD, + + _With the fond Hope_ + +THAT ITS PAGES MAY SERVE TO ENLIVEN OR ENTERTAIN SOME FEW OF THOSE EVENING +HOURS WHEN PLEASANT FACES GATHER ROUND WARM, GLOWING HEARTH-STONES, + + _This simple Volume_ + + IS UNOBTRUSIVELY PRESENTED, + + BY THE + + UNKNOWN AND NAMELESS AUTHOR, + + WHO WOULD + + RATHER FIND WARM HEARTS AMONG HER READERS THAN WIN THE LAURELS OF + A TRANSITORY FAME. + + + + Transcriber's Note: + + There are two instances of illegible words in this text, both as + a result of ink blots. They have been indicated as [illegible]. + + + + + PREFACE. + + +When the sun has disappeared behind the western mountains, and the stars +sparkled o'er the blue concave, we have been accustomed to sit down to +the compilation of this unpretending volume, and therefore it is called +"Eventide." O, that its pages might be read at that calm, silent +hour,--their follies mercifully overlooked, their faults as kindly +forgiven. + +Fain would we dedicate this "waif of weary moments" to some warm-hearted, +watchful spirit, who might shelter it from the pitiless assaults of the +wide, wide world. But will not our simple booklet prove too insignificant +a mark for the critic's arrows? + +In the language of another, we confidently say, melancholy is indifferent +to criticism. + +Thus, + + "In our own weakness shielded," + +O, Reading Public, we steal upon you 'mid the falling shadows, and lay +"Eventide" at your feet. + + + + + CONTENTS. + + + PAGE + +WIMBLEDON; OR, THE HERMIT OF THE CEDARS, 7 + +SCRAGGIEWOOD, A TALE OF AMERICAN LIFE, 245 + +ALICE ORVILLE; OR, LIFE IN THE SOUTH AND WEST, 329 + +COME TO ME WHEN I'M DYING, 401 + +ELLEN, 404 + +I'M TIRED OF LIFE, 405 + +LINES TO A FRIEND, ON REMOVING FROM HER NATIVE VILLAGE, 407 + +HO FOR CALIFORNIA! 409 + +N. P. ROGERS, 411 + +LINES, 413 + +HENRY CLAY, 415 + +THE SOUL'S DESTINY, 417 + +LINES TO A MARRIED FRIEND, 419 + +NEW ENGLAND SABBATH BELLS, 421 + +MY HEART, 423 + +OUR HELEN, 425 + +MY BONNET OF BLUE, 427 + +DARK-BROWED MARTHA, 429 + + + + + WIMBLEDON; + + OR + + THE HERMIT OF THE CEDARS. + + + + + CHAPTER I. + + "The stars are out, and by their glistening light, + I fain would whisper in thine ear a tale; + Wilt hear it kindly? and if long and dull + Believe me far more deeply grieved than thou." + + +Clear and loud on the hushed silence of the midnight hour rang the chimes +of the village clock, from the tall steeple-tower of the quaint old +church of Wimbledon, while several ambitious chickens rose from their +neighboring perches, piped a shrill answering salute, and sank to their +nocturnal slumbers again. But nor clock nor chanticleer disturbed +Wimbledon. Still she slept on beneath the blossoming stars; and by their +soft, inspiring light, with your permission, gentle reader, we'll enter +the sleeping village. + +Dim gleams of snowy cottages, peeping through a wealth of embowering +vines, steal on our star-lighted vision as we roam along the grassy +streets, and we scent the breath of gardens odorous with the sweets of +dew-watered flowers. Above and around we hear the musical stir of the +night wind among boughs and branches of luxuriant foliage, while ever and +anon it comes from afar with a deep-toned, solemn murmur, as though it +swept o'er forests of cedar and mournfully-echoing pine. Still roaming +on, the low rippling of flowing waters comes soothingly to our ears, and +we pause on the bank of a flower-bordered river that goes sweetly singing +on its way to the distant ocean. A tiny sailboat lies in a sheltering +cove, rocked gently to and fro by the swaying current. On a hill beyond +the stream we mark a large white-belfried building, relieved against a +dark background of wide-stretching timber-land. And turning our delighted +footsteps down an avenue of lofty cedar and linden trees, there rises at +length before our vision a splendid mansion, built after a most beautiful +style of architecture, with deep, bay windows, long corridors and +vine-covered terraces. Magnificent gardens, displaying the perfection of +taste, lay sloping to the southward. On the east the silvery river was +seen glancing through the shrubbery that adorned its banks. To the west +lay a beautiful park and pleasure ground, while far away to the northward +stretched the deep, dense forest, tall, dark and sombre. + +And over all this lovely scene the stars shed their mild, ethereal light. +O, Wimbledon! art thou not beautiful 'neath their soft, silver gleams? +And doth not shadowy-vested romance roam thy grassy paths and +flower-strewn ways to-night, and with her wild, mysterious eyes gloating +on thy entrancing scenery, doth she not resolve to dwell awhile, 'mid thy +embowering vines, thy dewy-petalled flowers, mournfully-musical +cedar-groves, and web a fiction from the thousand tangled threads which +complicate and ramify thy social life? + +We shall see what we shall see in Wimbledon; for gray dawn is already +breaking in the dappled east, and a man, closely buttoned to the chin in +a gray overcoat, emerges from a large brick mansion on the outskirts of +the village, and directs his steps toward an old, black, rickety-looking +house, which stands just on the bank of the river, surrounded by a +tangled growth of brush-wood. + +Here the gairish day at length disclosed what the modest night had +obscured with her diamond veil of stars. Squalid poverty glared through +the broken window-panes, and want seemed clattering her doleful song on +the flying clapboards and crazy casements. A feeble, struggling light +from within showed the inmates were stirring as the man in the overcoat +gave a loud, careless thump on the trembling door, which was opened by a +pale, gaunt-looking urchin, clad in garments bearing patches of divers +hues. + +"Is your mother at home, Bill?" inquired the man, gruffly. + +"Yes, sir," answered the boy in a meek tone; "will you please to walk in, +Mr. Pimble?" + +"No; tell her I want her to come and wash for me to-day," said the man, +in a harsh, rough voice, as he turned away. + +The boy bowed and reentered the miserable apartment, where a few soggy +chips smoked on a bed of embers that were gathered in the corner of a +huge fire-place. A woman, with a begrimed cotton handkerchief tied over +her head, sat on the hearth endeavoring to blow them into a blaze, while +the smoke, that poured down the foul and blackened chimney, caused the +tears to roll from her eyes, and baffled her efforts. + +"Never mind the fire, mother," said the lad, approaching; "I'll try and +pick up some dry sticks in course of the day to have the room warm when +you come home to-night. Mr. Pimble has just called, and wants you to go +and wash for him to-day." + +"He won't pay me a cent if I go," answered the woman moodily; "all my +drudgery for that family goes to pay the rent of this miserable old +shell." + +"I think he will give you something to-day, mother, if you tell him how +needy we are," suggested the boy. + +"Never a cent," said the woman, with a gloomy shake of her head; +"however, I may as well go. I shall get a cup of tea and bit of dinner, +and I'll look out to bring you a cake, Willie." + +"O, will you, mother?" exclaimed the boy, his wan features brightening +momentarily at the prospect of a single cake to appease the gnawings of +hunger. + +The woman threw a coarse, threadbare blanket over her shoulders and went +forth, while the boy bent his way along the riverbank in search of dry +twigs and branches with which to replenish their wasted stock of fuel. +And he thought, as he picked up here and there the scanty sticks and laid +them in small bundles, of some lines of poetry he read on a bit of +newspaper that blew across his path one day: + + "If joy and pain in this nether world, + Must fairly balanced be, + O, why not some of the _pain_ to them. + And some of the _joy_ to me?" + +And he could not settle the point in his youthful mind. He could not +tell why David Pimble should go to school the year round at the great, +white seminary on the hill, while he could only go about two months in +the cold, biting winter to a town-school a mile distant. He could not +tell why said David should have warm woollen jackets, while his were +threadbare and patched with rags; nor why David should fare sumptuously +on buttered toast and smoking muffins, while he starved on the crusts +that were cast from his well-spread table. + +All these were knotty points which poor little Willie Danforth was too +young and untaught to solve. When he should be older and wiser, would he +be able to solve them? He didn't know;--he hoped so; though he feared he +never would be much wiser than now, if he was always to remain so poor, +and be debarred from the privilege of attending school. + +There's one school whose doors are and have ever been open wide for +Willie--the school of poverty and experience. Lessons swift and bitter +are indelibly impressed on the minds of the pupils there. + +Thoughtful and abstracted, Willie wandered along, gathering his little +bundles of firewood, till he found himself at the foot of the hill on +which stood the great, white seminary where David Pimble, his brother and +sister, went to school month after month and year after year. He heard +voices, and, looking up, beheld the little group that were occupying his +thoughts, on the hill-top, laughing and mocking at him as he toiled along +with his bundles of sticks. His cheeks glowed with anger for a moment, +and then grew ashy pale, as he plodded on toward his miserable home. + +Dilly Danforth, the poor washerwoman, had seen better days; but the +drunken dissipation of a husband, who was now in his grave, had reduced +her to abject, despairing poverty. Her unfortunate marriage and +persistence in clinging to the man of her choice, and enduring all his +abuses, excited the displeasure of her family, and they cast her from +them to suffer and struggle on as best she might. She knew not as she had +a relative in the world. She surely had no friend, save Willie, her +little boy, with whom she dwelt in the comfortless abode we have briefly +visited. + +Alas for the suffering poor! How prone are the wealthy, by warm, glowing +grates, to forget their cheerless habitations, and turn inhumanly from +their pitiful tales of want and destitution! + + + + + CHAPTER II. + + "This work-day world, this work-day world, + How it doth plod along!" + + +Tap, tap, tap, on the back kitchen door of Esq. Pimble's great brick +mansion, and a clattering of plates and tea things within which quite +drowned the timid knock. A second and louder one brought a fat, red-faced +woman with rolled-up sleeves and a dish-towel in hand, to answer the +summons. + +"Sakes, Dilly Danforth!" exclaimed she, on beholding the well-known, +faded blanket of the washerwoman; "what brings you here so airly in the +mornin'? If you are after cold victuals, I can tell you you can't have +any, for mistress--" + +"I am not come seeking charity," said Dilly, cutting short the woman's +brawling speech; "Mr. Pimble wished me to come and wash for him to day." + +"_He_ did?" said the bold-visaged housekeeper, opening her large, +buttermilk-colored eyes with astonishment; "well, for sure!"--and here +she seemed debating some matter in her mind for several moments, her hand +still holding the door in forbidding proximity to poor Mrs. Danforth's +pale, grief-worn face. + +"Well, you can come in then, I s'pose," she said, at length, flinging it +open spitefully, and returning to the wiping of her breakfast dishes, +which she sent together with such a crash, that poor Dilly, as she stood +over the stove trying to warm her chilly fingers by a decaying fire, +momentarily expected to see them scattered over the floor in a thousand +fragments. + +"Sakes! are you cold this warm spring morning?" snarled the plump, +well-fed housekeeper, as she thumped back and forth, carrying her piles +of plates to the cupboard. "Why don't you shut the outside door after +you, then? For my part, I'm most roasted to death." + +"You have been in a warm room, while I have not seen a fire this +morning," said Dilly, meekly, as she closed the door and returned to her +place by the stove. + +"Well, I wish I hadn't," answered the ireful Mrs. Peggy Nonce;--"a hard +fate is mine; sweltering over a great fire all my life, to cook for a +family that don't know nothing only to make the work as hard as they can. +Now, here's Mr. Pimble goes and gets you here to wash; never tells me a +word about it till you come right in upon me just as I have got my +breakfast things cleared away, settin'-room swept out, and fire all down +in the kitchen. I s'pose you have had nothing to eat to-day, for you +always come half starved, though why you do so I don't know, save to make +me work and get all you can out of us. When Mr. Pimble rents you that +great house so cheap, too! I declare, I should think, with all that man's +trials, he would get to be a hypocrite and believe in total +annihilation." + +Dilly made no reply to this speech. Probably the latter part was beyond +her simple comprehension. + +Mr. Pimble himself, the man of trials, as his housekeeper affirmed, now +opened the sitting-room door and looked forth. He was habited in a long, +faded, palm-figured bed-gown, all muffled up round his chin, and +sheep-skin slippers without heels. He had a lank, pale, discouraged +visage, and thin, light hair, streaked with gray, in a very untidy state +straggling about his face. He pulled his wrapper up yet closer about his +head, when he discovered the washerwoman, and shambled across the +clean-swept floor, his heelless slippers going clip-clap after him, as he +stalked along. What a gaunt, unhealthy-looking personage was the rich +Peter Paul Pimble, Esq., of Mudget Square! + +"Well, you are come, then, are you?" said he, glancing toward the kitchen +clock, which was on the stroke of eight; "pretty time to commence a day's +work." + +"And she has had no breakfast; and the water is not in the kettles," put +in dame Peggy. "I could have had that all hot for her, if you had just +told me she was comin' to wash. But some folks always like to be so sly +and underhanded." + +"Stop your clack!" said the master, turning toward her with an angry +glance, "and get a bite of something to eat while she is putting her +water on and building a fire. I shall be at home through the day to +superintend matters and see that all is done to my wishes." + +Thus saying, he scuffled back to his warm fire in the parlor; for, though +it was a bright morning in the early part of May, and odorous flowers +opening their petals to the genial sunbeams, and groups of singing birds +merry on all the foliage-covered trees, still Esq. Pimble was +cold--always cold, summer and winter. No genial influence could warm his +sluggish blood, or impart a glow to his dry, parchment-colored face. + +There he sat; his feet poised on the fender, and a newspaper in his +skinny clutch, from which he seemed to read. Now and then he yawned, +stretched himself, approached the window, gazed forth for a moment with +some anxiety depicted on his expressionless face, and then sunk down in +his cushioned chair again. All the while the washing was going on briskly +in the kitchen. Peggy Nonce had outlived her morning's asperity, and +concluded to bake a batch of dried apple pies, as there must be a fire +kept in the stove for Billy, and it would save burning the wood another +day for the express purpose of cooking operations. So it appeared dame +Peggy, with all her tempers, had one good point at least, and one but +seldom found in servants,--a lookout for her employer's interests. The +bluffy housekeeper was given to gossip, too, as all of her class are; and +who could give her a better synopsis of the private affairs of half the +families in Wimbledon, than Dilly Danforth, the washerwoman, who +performed the drudgery and slop-work in many of the fine homes of the +upper class? But, after all, Peggy had more to give than receive; for by +some means the poor washerwoman did not seem possessed of the "gift of +gab." She was lamentably ignorant on many points where Peggy thought, +with her advantages, _she_ would have been well-informed and able to +answer any question proposed. And so the news-loving housekeeper, though +she remembered her master's interests in the article of firewood, was +fain to forget them in a matter of far more importance, and broached +forth into a long tale of his trials and domestic discomforts. Warming +with her discourse as she proceeded, her voice grew so shrill and +vehement, that Mr. Pimble, had he not been deeply engaged in poring over +the trials his loquacious housekeeper was so eloquently setting forth to +her silent and rather inattentive listener, he would have discovered +himself the hero of a tale which might have lost Mrs. Peggy Nonee a +place she had occupied half a lifetime. But Mr. Pimble sat in bed-gown +and slippers till dinner was announced at one P.M., and the three young +Pimbles tumbled into the hall in boisterous glee, just escaped from the +restraint of school discipline. They all rushed to the table at once, +and called for half a dozen kinds of food in a voice, which the glum, +abstracted father heaped indiscriminately on their plates. There was no +sound save the clatter of knives and forks for several minutes, while +the interesting family discussed their amply-provided and well-prepared +meal. At length Master Garrison Pimble, a lad of a dozen years, declared +sister Sukey had got the biggest piece of venison pie. Susan, a little +girl of seven summers, said she "didn't care if she had; she ought to +have." + +"No, you oughtn't either," returned Master Garrison, "for you are not +half as big as I." + +"I don't care for that," lisped Susan; "mammy says women ought to have +the best and most of everything, and do just what they like to, and go +just where they want to." + +"Well, they shouldn't do any such thing, should they, father?" demanded +the argument-loving Garrison. + +"Eat your dinners quietly, my children," returned the silent father, "and +not meddle with matters you do not understand." + +"But I do understand them," continued the youth. "I know sister Sukey +ought not to have the largest piece of pie, and she shan't." + +Thus saying, he made a dive at Miss Susan's plate, and bore off her +generous slice of venison pastry on his fork. Susey screamed at the top +of her voice, and, clutching her hands in her brother's hair, she pulled +it so vigorously he was fain to drop his prize, which fell to the carpet +and was devoured by a half-starved grimalkin, while he boxed his sister's +ears soundly for her vixen attack upon his bushy black hair. + +"I'll learn you to pull my hair!" said he, with a very red face. + +"I'll learn you to steal my pie!" shrieked she, as, maddened by her +smarting ears, she flew at him and dug long, bloody scratches in his +cheeks with her sharp little nails. The father now parted the combatants, +and shut the warlike Susey in the closet, where she was loud in +pronouncing maledictions against her brother, and heaping vituperations +upon her father; declaring, when mammy came home, she would tell her how +she was abused in her absence, and mammy would take sides with her, +because she knew men were all cross and ugly, and tried to hurt and wrong +poor feeble woman. Garrison and David finished their meal in silence; and +when the seminary bell rang to announce the hour for reoepening of school, +Mr. Pimble liberated Susey, and all went shouting off together. + +Then he called in Dilly and the housekeeper, and, while they dined on the +fragments, went out in the kitchen to inspect the progress there. All +seemed to be moving on well, and, as he was returning to his seat by the +sitting-room fire, a covered buggy drove to the front piazza, and a +gentleman descended and assisted two ladies to alight. Directly the +parlor was dashed open, and the trio made their entry. Foremost was the +mistress of the mansion, Mrs. Judith Justitia Pimble. What a puny, +trembling thing appeared the husband, as he stood there like a galvanized +mummy in presence of that tall, portly woman, with her broad shoulders +and commanding aspect! Her first act was to smother the fire; her second, +to throw open the windows; her third, to ensconce herself in her liege +lord's easy-chair, and bid her guests lay aside their travelling garbs, +and make themselves at home. Finding his comfortable seat appropriated, +and no notice vouchsafed him, Mr. Pimble shuffled off into the kitchen. + +"Was that your husband, sister Justitia?" inquired the lady visitor, as +she threw off her shawl and bonnet, with an energetic toss. + +"Yes," answered the majestic lady in her most majestic tone, "that was +Pimble. You will not mind him at all; he is as near nothing as can be,--a +mere crank to keep the machine in motion,--you understand. He has his +sphere, however. The lowest brute animals have theirs. Pimble's is to +stay at home and superintend the minor matters of life, such as milking +the kine, feeding the chickens, and slaughtering a lamb occasionally to +subserve the grosser wants of poor human nature. In brief, all those +trivial and perplexing things in which a superior mind cannot be supposed +to feel an interest, and by which it is not right it should be fettered, +and prevented from soaring to its own lofty sphere of thought and +action." + +Mrs. Pimble paused for breath as she delivered herself of the above +voluble speech, and the lady visitor replied: + +"You speak heroicly, sister Justitia. I see you have obtained your +rightful position in your own household. O, would that all our crushed +and down-trodden sisters were possessed of but a tithe of your energy and +independence of character! Then would our young Reform, which encounters +on every side the swords and pickaxes of infuriate battalions of the +tyrant man, ride in triumphal chariot over our whole broad country's +proud domain!" + +"Ah, sister Simcoe, how doth your inspired language fill my soul with +fire! I rejoice that you are come among us. How will your presence +encourage our ranks, and, in the triumph of your medical skill, vile male +usurpers of the healing art shall sink to rise no more! I long to read +again the proceedings of our late convention, the thrilling speeches, the +sweeping resolutions!" + +"Let us thus occupy ourselves," said young Dr. Simcoe, turning toward a +remote corner of the apartment where sat the small man who had +accompanied the ladies, perched on a hard, uncushioned chair, his hands +folded in his lap, and his eyes bent studiously on the carpet. This was +the personage on whom the accomplished young medical practitioner had, a +few months previous, condescended to bestow the princely honor of her +hand. + +"Sim," said the eloquent wife, as she glanced carelessly upon him, "where +are the portmanteaus?" + +"In the entry," answered the small man, raising his eyes for a moment to +his fair consort's face. + +"Bring them in and open them," said the lady, again sinking down in her +soft seat. + +The small man disappeared in a twinkling, and the portmanteaus were soon +placed on the table, and their contents spread forth. + +"I will now order some refreshment," said Mrs. Pimble;--"and while it is +preparing, we can amuse ourselves with the documents. What would you +prefer for your dinner, sister Simcoe?" + +"Pea soup," returned the lady doctor; "that is my uniform dish,--simple +and plain." + +"And Mr. Simcoe, what would he choose?" + +"O, he has no choice!--anything that comes handiest will do for him." + +Mrs. Pimble glanced toward Mr. Simcoe. Mr. Simcoe simpered and bowed. So +Mrs. Pimble swept into the kitchen to issue her commands. She started on +beholding Dilly Danforth bending over a wash-tub filled to the brim with +smoking linen, just out of a boiling suds. Darting one fiery glance +toward her forceless husband, sitting humped up over the stove, his head +supported on his hands, she exclaimed, "What does this mean?" Mr. Pimble +looked up vacantly; Peggy turned round from her occupation of washing the +dinner dishes, and Dilly kept to her wash-tub. No one seemed to +understand to whom the stately mistress addressed her brief +interrogatory. "Have you all lost your tongues?" at length exclaimed Mrs. +Pimble, in a louder tone; and, seizing her husband's chair, she gave it a +rough jerk, and demanded, "Are you dumb, Peter Pimble? What is that +beggar-woman,"--pointing toward Dilly,--"doing here?" + +"Don't you see she is washing?" returned the husband, rather ironically. + +"Well, by whose leave?" + +"Mine." + +"Yours?--and why have you brought a washerwoman into the house in my +absence, and without my permission?" + +"Because all my linen was dirty." + +"What if it was?" + +"I wanted it washed." + +"What for?" + +"Because the spring courts are held in Olneyville next week." + +"What if they are?" + +"I would like to attend." + +"You would, would you? No doubt, and confine me at home to superintend +the domestic affairs. No, Mr. Pimble, you don't enslave me in that +manner. I'm a free woman, and acknowledge no man master. I'll see if I'm +not mistress in my own house. Here, Dilly Danforth, take your hands out +of that wash-tub, and pack off home, instanter. There will be no more +washing done in my house to-day, or ever again, unless I order it done. +And you, Peggy Nonce, make a pea soup and broil a nice steak, with all +the appropriate dishes, and have a dinner prepared in half an hour, to +serve myself and guests." + +There was an instant commotion in the kitchen, and the mistress swept +back to her guests in the parlor. + + + + + CHAPTER III. + + "She is a saucy wench, + Somewhat o'er full + Of pranks, I think--but then with growing years + She will outgrow her mischief and become + As staid and sober as our hearts could choose." + + OLD PLAY. + + +Mr. Salsify Mumbles was a grocer in a small way, and his good wife took +boarders,--young ladies and gentlemen from different parts of the +country, who came to attend Cedar Hill Seminary, a school of high repute +and extended celebrity. Her number was limited to three this summer, +because she conceived her health to be delicate, and because Mr. Salsify +had communicated to her in private that he was certainly "rising in his +profession;" and the quick-sighted lady foresaw the day speedily +approaching when she would no longer be obliged to perplex herself with +so ungrateful a class of beings as boarders, but should roll through the +streets of Wimbledon in her coach and four, the "observed of all +observers." + +Mrs. Mumbles had one fair daughter, Mary Madeline, upon whom she doted +with true maternal fondness. This young lady was most perversely inclined +to smile upon one Mr. Dick Giblet, a clerk in her father's grocery. Mrs. +Mumbles was inconsolable, and Mr. Giblet was banished from the premises, +and taken into employ by the firm of Edson & Co., the largest merchants +in Wimbledon. + +Rumor said these gentlemen were so well pleased with the young man, that +they had offered him a yearly salary of several hundred dollars, and +proposed, should he continue to perform his duties as well as hitherto, +to take him into the firm, on his coming of age. Mrs. Salsify now began +to regard Dick with different eyes, as what prudent mother would not? She +sent Mary Madeline to the store of Edson & Co., whenever she was in want +of a spool of cotton or yard of tape; but the young clerk had grown so +vain with his elevation, that he looked very loftily down upon her, bowed +in the most distant manner, and never exchanged more words with her than +were necessary in the buying and selling of an article. So Mary Madeline +told her mother, and upbraided her as the cause of the young man's cold +treatment. Mrs. Salsify bade her daughter be of good cheer. "'Twas all a +feint on Dick's part, to conceal his love till he was sure of hers,--all +would come round right in time." But Mary Madeline would not believe it, +and said she should die if she had to stay in the back store alone so +much, sorting spices and writing labels, for she was constantly thinking +of Dick, who used to be with her. She must have something to divert her +attention; and, at length, Mrs. Salsify hit upon the project of sending +her to school at the seminary one term. It was fitting that the daughter +of the rich Mr. Mumbles that was to be, should be possessed of suitable +polish and refinement to adorn the high circles in which her position +would call her to move. So Miss Mumbles answered to her name among the +two hundred scholars, male and female, that had assembled in the halls of +Cedar Hill Seminary, for the summer term. Quite a sensation she produced +in her gay muslin dress and fiery-colored silk apron; for Mrs. Salsify +declared her resolve to dress her tip-top. She was not the woman to half +do a thing, when she undertook; she always came up to the mark, or went a +little beyond. Better overshoot than fall short, was her motto. And when +Mary Madeline came home, on the evening of her debut at the seminary, +walking between the two young lady boarders, Amy Seaton and Jenny +Andrews, Mrs. Mumbles could not avoid drawing a comparison between the +three; and her daughter appeared to her like a blazing star between two +sombre clouds, for Miss Seaton and Miss Andrews, who were both orphans, +wore plain, dark gingham frocks and linen aprons. The third boarder was a +little brother of Miss Seaton's, about a dozen years of age. Charlie was +his name; a bright, intelligent boy, brimful of mischief and fun. + +Mrs. Salsify kept no girl;--she could not find a good one, she said,--a +bad one she would not have, as long as she could manage to perform her +work herself, which she thought she could do with Mary Madeline's +assistance nights and mornings. It would not be for long, she trusted, +this slavery to boarders, for Mr. Salsify continued to inform her, at +stated intervals, that he was certainly "rising in his profession." + +The husband and wife sat alone one evening, indulging in confidential +discourse, as 'tis said conjugal mates are wont to do on certain +occasions. + +"Really," exclaimed Mrs. Mumbles, "it is astonishing, the quantity of +victuals these boarders consume. It is so unfeminine and indelicate for +young ladies to have appetites. I declare it quite shocks me to see the +large slices of bread and butter disappearing down Jenny Andrews' little +throat, and, as for that Charles Seaton, I believe he would eat a whole +plum pudding if he could get it. I left off making them long ago." + +"I have not noticed one on the table for several days," returned Mr. +Salsify, "and, as I saw the last one was sent away untouched, I feared +they had detected the musty raisins." + +"O, la, no! the greedy mugs don't know the difference, I assure you," +answered the wife, "'twas only because they had stuffed themselves so +full of veal pie, that the pudding was not devoured." Just then Amy +Seaton came in and asked if she might get a lunch for Charlie, as he was +not in season for supper. + +"O, yes!" answered Mrs. Salsify, in her blandest tone; "here are the +keys. I lock the pantry because Mr. Mumbles is so absent-minded he often +leaves the door open, and the cat gets in and devours the victuals. Get +just what you want for Charlie and a lunch for yourself and Jenny if you +choose." + +"Thank you," said Amy taking the bunch of keys from Mrs. Salsify's hand. +Wide swung the pantry door on its creaking hinges, and Amy's eyes +brightened as she stepped in, thinking of the little feast they were to +have up stairs on the good lady's sudden fit of generosity. She glanced +her light eagerly along the shelves in search of pies and sweet cakes, +for she had seen Mrs. Salsify baking a large amount of good things that +morning; but nothing met her wistful gaze save a plateful of burnt +gingerbread crusts which had been picked over and left after the +evening's meal, a plate of refuse meat, and a few bits of salt cod-fish +in a broken saucer. She was about to go and tell Mrs. Mumbles her pantry +was destitute of victuals, when she recollected that lady superintended +her own work, and she should only inform her of what she already knew. +Several similar instances of the lady's singular generosity now occurred +to her mind. She recollected one day, on coming in unexpectedly from +school, of finding Mrs. Salsify buying a large quantity of cherries, and +of her saying she was going to pick them over, and would set them on the +dairy shelf where she might go and eat of them whenever she chose. But +Amy could not find them anywhere, and when she innocently asked Mrs. +Salsify where she had put them, that good lady, after blushing and +stammering a good deal, said they proved so dirty she was obliged to +throw them away. This and other similar occurrences decided Amy to say +nothing of the destitution of the pantry. So she returned the keys to her +boarding mistress, and, without a word, ascended to her room, where she +gave Charlie the bit of fish and crust of gingerbread she had obtained. + +"Is this all I'm to have for my supper?" said he, looking ruefully on the +scanty, unpalatable food. + +"'Tis all I can find in the pantry, bub," answered Amy; "can't you make +it answer for to-night? and to-morrow I will buy you something nice at +the bakery." + +"Why," said Jenny, raising her dark, fun-loving eyes from a problem in +Euclid, "I saw Mrs. Mumbles baking mince pies, and custards and plum +cake, this morning." + +"Bah," said Charlie, "I don't want any of her plum cake if she puts the +same kind of raisins in it she does in her puddings. But, Jenny, I think +I know where she keeps her nice victuals." + +"Where?" asked Jenny, with an earnest look on Charlie's cunning face. + +"Have you never noticed that great tin boiler under her bed?" Jenny burst +into an uncontrollable fit of laughter, which Amy vainly endeavored to +silence, and directly Mary Madeline appeared and said, "Mother would like +to have a little less noise if they could favor her, as she had company +below." Then the three sat down on the floor, and Jenny and Charlie +planned a midnight attack upon the tin boiler. Amy, who was more sedate +and cautious, advised them to desist; but 'twas just the exploit for +Jenny's frolicsome, mischievous temperament. Charlie was to take a +pillow-case, and creep softly under the bed, and fill it from the +supposed contents of the mysterious boiler, while Jenny stood at the +kitchen door to assist him in bearing the precious burden to their room. +How slow the hours passed after the plot was formed ere it could be +carried into execution! Mrs. Salsify in the parlor below kept wishing her +visitors would go, for she had never seen the wicks in the camphene lamps +of so surprising a length. They flooded the whole room with light, and +she recollected Jenny Andrews had asked the privilege of trimming them +after they were last used. She dared not rise and pick them down, for +such narrow-souled persons as she are always fearful that the truth will +be known and their littleness exposed; so she sat in a perfect fever, +watching the fluid getting every moment lower, and scarcely heeding the +remarks of her guests. At length they took their departure, and Mrs. +Salsify rushed in a sort of frenzy to the lamps, and dropped the caps +over the blazing wicks. + +"Mary Madeline," said Mr. Mumbles, reprovingly, "don't you know how to +trim a lamp properly? Enough fluid has been wasted to-night by means of +those long wicks to last two evenings with wicks of a proper length." + +"'Tis none of Maddie's doings," returned Mrs. S., "she is more prudent +than that. 'Twas that hussy of a Jenny Andrews who trimmed them after +Miss Pinkerton was here the other night." + +"Well, the girl ought to pay for the waste she has occasioned," said Mr. +Salsify, gruffly. "Let us retire now; I declare 'tis near eleven +o'clock." The conspirators in the room above heard with eager ears the +departure of the guests, and sat in perfect silence till midnight chimed +from the old clock tower. Then Charlie Seaton, pillow-case in hand, crept +silently down the stairs with Jenny close behind him. Mrs. Mumbles' +bed-room opened out of the kitchen, and the door was always standing +ajar. Thus Charlie's quick eye had detected the boiler while sitting at +the dining table directly opposite her room. As he now paused a moment in +the kitchen before crossing the forbidden precincts, the deep-drawn +sonorous breathings convinced him that Mr. and Mrs. Salsify Mumbles were +lulled in their deepest nocturnal slumbers. Gently dropping on his knees, +he crawled softly to the object of plunder. Lucky chance! the cover was +off, and the first thing his hand touched was a knife plunged to the hilt +in a large loaf. This he captured and deposited in his bag. Then followed +pies, tarts, etc., and last a small jar, which he took under his arm, +and, thus encumbered, crept on all-fours to the kitchen door, where Jenny +relieved him of the jar. They softly ascended the stairs, where Amy was +ready to receive them. + +"How dared you take that jar?" said she; "what does it contain?" + +"I don't know," said Charlie; "but I know what my pillow-case contains. +It was never so well lined before, Amy." + +Thus saying, he commenced removing its contents, while Jenny pulled the +knife out of the loaf, which proved to be pound cake, uncovered the jar, +and pronounced it filled with cherry jam. "Ay," said Amy, "there's where +those cherries I saw her buying of Dilly Danforth went, then. She told me +they were so dirty she had to throw them away. But I think you had better +go and carry these things back." + +"Never," said Charlie; "I am going to eat my fill once in Mrs. Mumbles' +house." + +"But what will she say when she discovers her loss?" + +"That is just what I'm anxious to know," said Jenny. + +"So am I," returned Charlie, chopping off a large slice of pound cake and +dividing two pies in halves. "The old lady goes in for treating her +visitors well, don't she? I dare say these condiments were intended to +supply her guests for years. I wish we had some spoons to eat this cherry +jam." + +"You had better carry that back," said Amy. + +"No, I will not go down on my knees and crawl under Mrs. Salsify's bed +again to-night on any consideration." + +"Neither would I," said Jenny, "the old adage is 'as well be killed for a +sheep as a lamb;' so let us enjoy ourselves to the utmost in our power. +Here is food enough, of the best kind too, to serve us well for the +remainder of our stay here, only a week longer you know. I'll keep it +locked in my trunk." + +So saying, they cleared away, and Charlie bade good-night, and all +retired to bright visions of pound cake and cherry jelly. + + + + + CHAPTER IV. + + "She was a lovely little ladye, + With blue eyes beaming sunnily; + And loved to carry charity + To the abodes of misery." + + +There was a tiny bark floating down the flower-bordered river that wound +so gracefully through the beautiful village of Wimbledon, and a smiling +little lady, in a neat gingham sun-bonnet, sat coseyly in the stern, +beneath the shady wing of the snow-white sail. A noble-looking lad plied +the oar with graceful ease, chatting merrily the while with the little +girl, and laughing at her constant and matronly care of a large basket +which was placed beside her, neatly covered with a snowy napkin. "One +would think that there were diamonds in that basket, Nell, you guard it +so carefully," said he. + +"No, only nice pies mother gave me leave to take to Aunt Dilly Danforth, +the poor washerwoman," returned the little miss, again smoothing the +napkin and adjusting the basket in a new position. "I wish you would row +as carefully as you can, Neddie, so as not to jostle them much." + +"So I will, sis," returned he; "let's sing the Boatman's Song as we glide +along." And their voices rose on the calm summer air clear and sweet as +the morning song of birds. Now and then their light barge touched the +shore, and Ned plucked flowers to twine in Ellen's hair. O, that ever, +down life's uncertain tide, these innocent young spirits might float as +calmly, happily on to the broad ocean of eternity! + +"Is that the old shanty where Dilly lives?" said the lad at length, +pointing to a low black house, just beyond a clump of brushwood, which +they were swiftly approaching. + +"Yes," said Ellen, gathering up her basket. + +"Here I must lose you, then," said Ned; "how I wish you would go fishing +with me down to the cove!" + +Ellen smiled. "Are you going to be all alone, Neddie?" asked she. + +"Nobody but Charlie Seaton will be with me. You like him." + +"Yes, I like him well enough," said Ellen, innocently; "but I would not +care to go a-fishing with him." + +"Why not, sis?" inquired Ned. + +"Because it would not be pretty for a little girl to go fishing with +boys." + +"Ha, ha!" laughed the lad; "what a prudent little sis I have got! for all +the world like Amy Seaton. But I like Jenny Andrews better, she is so +full of fun and frolic. Did you know how she and Charlie Seaton robbed +old Mrs. Salsify Mumbles, one night not long since?" + +"O, no! robbed her? That was wrong, surely." + +"O, no! You see she nearly starved them, so they helped themselves to her +sweetmeats without invitation. That's all; not very wicked, I'm thinking, +Nell." + +"I think it was wicked for her not to give them enough food, and wicked +for them to take it without her knowledge," said Ellen, after a pause. +"But what did she say when she discovered her loss?" + +"Not a word. What could she say?" asked Ned. + +"I could not guess, and therefore inquired," said Ellen. "Will Jenny come +to school next term?" + +"Yes, Jenny, Amy and Charlie, and board at Dea. Allen's. That will be a +good place; only I fancy the deacon's long prayers and sober phiz will +prove a sad trial to Jenny. Well, you must go, sis," said he, pushing his +boat high up on the green, grassy bank, by a few skilful strokes of his +oar. Then assisting her out and placing the precious basket safely in her +arms, he was soon gliding down the smooth current again. Ellen directed +her steps toward the dilapidated dwelling a few yards before her, turning +frequently to catch a glimpse of her brother's little bark as it came in +view through some opening in the shrubbery that grew on the river's side. + +One timid rap brought Willie Danforth to the door. The poor boy looked +quite embarrassed to behold pretty, neat Ellen Williams standing there on +the miserable, dirty threshold. "Good day, Willie," said she, pleasantly; +"is your mother at home?" + +"No, miss, she is scrubbing floors at Mr. Pimble's," said Willie, +awkwardly enough. + +"O, I am sorry she is gone, for I wanted to see her very much. Will you +let me come in and leave this basket for her?" + +"O, yes!" answered the poor lad, "or I will carry it in for you." + +"I can carry it very well," said Ellen, "if you will only let me go in." + +"I would let you come in, Miss Ellen," returned Willie, "only I am afraid +it would frighten you to see such a sad, dirty place;" and the ragged +little fellow blushed crimson, as he thus revealed his poverty and +destitution. + +Ellen pitied his embarrassment, and said, "I should like to go in, +Willie, because, if I saw what you needed, I could tell mother, and she +would make you more comfortable, I know." + +The boy lifted the wooden latch of the inner room. The door opened with a +dismal creak, and Ellen entered. There was one old, broken-backed chair, +which he offered her, and sat down himself on a rough bench, with a +sorrowful, embarrassed expression on his pale, interesting features. +Ellen, still noticing Willie's painful confusion, knew not what to do +after placing her basket on the rude, wooden table, and began to regret +that she so strongly pressed an entrance. + +"I told you you would be frightened," said the boy at length, in a +choking tone. + +"O, I am not frightened!" returned Ellen, glad to speak now that he had +opened the way for her; "I am only sorry to find people living so +forlornly in our pretty, happy village. I thought you had a good nice +house to live in, for Mrs. Pimble said so, and that her husband rented it +to you for almost nothing, and that your mother--but I won't say any +more," said Ellen, stopping short in her discourse. + +"Yes," said Willie, "tell me all she said, and then I will tell you +something." + +"Well, then, she said your mother only went out washing to make folks +think she was needy, so they would give her food and clothing. 'Twas +wicked for her to say it, surely." + +Willie's face grew pale as death, and then flushed crimson to the +temples. + +"Don't look so," said Ellen, approaching the bench and putting her little +hand on his hot cheeks. "O, Willie! you are sick and tired," she +continued, soothingly; "will you not lay your head down on my lap, and +tell me all about your troubles?" + +Willie's full heart overflowed. Those accents of kindness, so strange to +his ears, what a magic power they had! He leaned his dear bright head on +her soft little palm, and his low voice told in broken accents a tale of +want and suffering. Ellen wept, for her young heart was full of +tenderness and sympathy. The hours sped on, while they thus held +converse, till a hand on the latch aroused them. 'Twas Dilly returned +from her day's work at Mr. Pimble's. Willie sprang up to meet her. "O, +mother!" said he, "a sweet angel has come since you left me, this +morning, crying because I was so hungry." + +"Alas, my boy!" said the woman, "I fear you must still go hungry, for I +have brought you nothing. Mr. Pimble says my week's work must go for +rent." + +Now was Ellen's moment of joy, as she bounded across the broken floor and +lifted the napkin from her basket. "No, no, Willie,--no, no, Aunt Dilly, +you shall not go hungry to bed to-night. Look what mother has sent you! +How thoughtless of me not to have remembered my basket before, when +Willie has been suffering from hunger all these long, long hours!" + +"O, no! I have not thought of being hungry since you came," said the boy. + +Mrs. Danforth approached the basket and gazed on its contents with +tearful eyes. She had not seen the like on her table for many a day, and, +dropping on her knees, she breathed a silent prayer to God for his +goodness in putting it into the hearts of his children to remember her in +her need! Willie brought forth a small bundle of sticks and lighted a +fire, while Ellen ran and filled a black, broken-nosed tea-kettle, and +hung it on a hook over the blaze. It soon began to sing merrily, and the +children laughed and said it had caught some of their happiness. Then +Ellen took some tea from the paper her mother had wrapped so nicely, put +it in a cracked blue bowl, and Willie fixed a bed of coals for her to set +it on. Dilly sat all the while gazing with tearful eyes on the two +beaming faces which were constantly turned up to hers, to see if she gave +her approval to their movements. At length the repast was prepared, and, +after partaking with them, as Mrs. Danforth insisted upon her doing, +Ellen set out for home, with Willie by her side. He hesitated some at +first, when his mother told him he must accompany her, for his jacket was +ragged and his shoes out at the toes. But when Ellen said so +reproachfully he was "too bad, too bad, to make her go all the way home +alone," he brightened, and said "he would be very glad to go with her if +she would not be ashamed of him." So they set out together, each holding +a handle of the basket; Ellen bidding Aunt Dilly a cordial good-by, and +promising to come soon again and bring her mother. They met Mr. Pimble on +their way, who scowled and passed by in silence. + +Ellen found her mother anxiously waiting her return. She heard with +pleasure and interest her little daughter's animated description of her +visit; but when she said she had promised to visit Aunt Dilly soon again, +and take her mother with her, Mrs. Williams looked sad. + +"What makes you look so, dear mamma?" said Ellen; "will you not go and +see poor Dilly?" + +"I shall be very glad to do so, my dear child," answered the fond mother, +"if it is possible. You know your father has often wished to remove to a +place where his skill in architecture might be employed to better +advantage, and an excellent opportunity now offers for him to dispose of +his situation here, and remove to a large city, where his services will +be in constant demand." + +"And I shall never see Willie Danforth again," said Ellen, bursting into +tears. + +Childhood is so simple and unaffected, ever expressing with innocent +confidence its dearest thought, and claiming sympathy! Mrs. Williams +tried long to comfort her little daughter, and at length succeeded by +holding out a prospect that she might some time return and visit her +early associates. Ned was consoled by the same prospect. But then, we +never know, when we leave a place, what changes may occur ere we revisit +its now familiar scenes. Mrs. Williams felt this truth more vividly than +her children. But few changes had marked their sunny years, and it never +occurred to their youthful minds but what Wimbledon as she was to-night +would be exactly the same should they return five or ten years hence. The +mother did not disturb this pleasant illusion, "for experience comes +quite soon enough to young hearts," she said, "and I'll not force her +unwelcome lessons upon my happy children." So Ned and Ellen, when it was +decided they should leave on the morrow, almost forgot the pangs of +departure from their rich, beautiful home, so intently were they dwelling +on the joy of returning and meeting their schoolmates and companions +after a period of separation. O, gay, light-hearted youth! What is there +in all life's after years, its gaudy pomp, its feverish flame, or +short-lived honors, that can atone for the loss of thy buoyant hopes, and +simple, trusting faith? + +Sad was poor Dilly Danforth when she heard of the sudden departure of the +benevolent Williams family, and bitterly she exclaimed, "No good thing is +long vouchsafed the poor. Our poverty will only seem the darker now for +having been brightened for a transient hour." + +Willie, who had returned from his walk with Ellen with severe pains in +his limbs and head, fell sick of a rheumatic fever, and suffered much for +the want of warm clothing, care and medical treatment. O, how often he +thought of Ellen! "If she were there he would not suffer thus. She would +be warmth, care, clothing and physician for him." + +His mother was obliged to labor every day to procure fuel for the fire; +and to warm the great, cold room, where the piercing autumn blasts blew +through wide gaping cracks and chasms, and get a bottle of wormwood +occasionally, with which to bathe his aching limbs, was the utmost her +efforts could accomplish. With this insufficient care, 'twas no wonder +Willie grew rapidly worse. One bitter cold night Dilly sat down utterly +discouraged as she placed the last stick of wood on the fire. Her boy had +been so ill for several days she could not leave him to go to her +accustomed labor, and consequently the small pile of fuel was consumed. +What was she to do? Willie was already crying of cold, and she sat over +the expiring blaze crying because she had naught to render him +comfortable. After a while he grew silent, and, softly approaching, she +found he had sunk into a quiet slumber. Carefully covering him with the +thin, tattered blankets, she pinned a shawl over her head, and, softly +closing the door behind her, stole forth into the biting night air, and +directed a hasty tread toward Mr. Pimble's great brick mansion. A bright +light gleamed through the kitchen windows as she ascended the steps and +gave a hurried knock. Directly she heard a shuffling sound, and knew Mr. +Pimble, in his heelless slippers, was approaching. Fast beat her heart as +the door opened, and she beheld his gaunt form and unyielding features. + +"What brings you here this bitter cold night, Dilly Danforth?" exclaimed +he, in a surly tone, as the furious blast rushed in his face, and nearly +extinguished the lamp he held in his skinny grasp. + +She stepped inside, and he closed the door. + +"'Tis the bitter cold night which brings me, Mr. Pimble," she said, +feeling she must speak quickly, for Willie was at home alone; "my boy is +sick and suffering from cold. For myself, I would not ask a favor, but +for him I entreat you to give me an armful of wood to keep him from +perishing." + +"Why don't you work and buy your wood?" asked he, angered by this sudden +demand upon his charity. + +"I worked as long as I could leave my child," answered Mrs. Danforth, +"and I thought maybe you would be willing to allow me something for my +work here." + +"Allow you something, woman? Don't I give you the rent of that great +house for the few light chores you do for us, which really amount to +nothing? Your impudence is astonishing;" and Esq. Pimble's voice quivered +with rage, as he thus addressed the trembling woman. + +Dilly stood irresolute, and Mr. Pimble was silent a few moments, when a +voice from the parlor called out, imperiously, "Pimble, I want you!" + +The man roused himself and rushed to the door in such haste as to lose +both his slippers. + +"What are you blabbing about out there?" Dilly heard Mrs. Pimble ask, in +an angry tone. + +"Dilly Danforth has come for some wood," was the moody reply. + +"And so you are giving wood to that lazy, foolish, stupid creature, are +you?" + +"No, I am not. She says her boy is sick and she has no fire." + +"A pretty tale, and I hope 'tis true. She'll learn by and by her sin and +folly. If she had asserted her own rights, as she should have done, and +left her drunken husband and moping boy years ago, she might have been +well off in the world by this time. But she chose like an idiot to live +with him and endure his abuses till he died, and since she has tied +herself to that foolish boy. O, I have no patience with such stupid +women! They are a disgrace to the true female race. Go and tell her to go +home and never enter my doors a-begging again." + +Dilly did not wait to receive this unfeeling message, but pulled her thin +blanket around her, and stole out in the chill night air, and ran toward +home as swiftly as possible. She stumbled over something on the +threshold. It was a bundle of firewood. How came it there? She could not +tell, but seized it in her arms, ran hastily in, and approached Willie's +bed-side. He was still sleeping tranquilly, and that night a comfortable +fire, lighted by unknown generosity, blazed on the lowly hearth. + + + + + CHAPTER V. + + "There is a jarring discord in my ear, + It setteth all my soul ashake with fear, + Good sir, canst drive it off?"---- + + OLD PLAY. + + +All Wimbledon was aroused one cold November morning by a direful +conglomeration of sounds;--strange, discordant shrieks, ominous groans, +a clanking, as of iron chains and fetters, a slow, heavy, elephantine +tread gradually growing on the ear, and a deep, continuous rumbling as of +earthquakes in the bowels of the earth. Mrs. Salsify Mumbles, nervous and +delicate as she was, clung fast to the neck of her liege lord when he +attempted to throw open the sash of his window, to discover the import of +this unusual disturbance of the nocturnal stillness of Wimbledon. Good +Deacon Allen, who was lying on his deaf ear, became restless, and visions +of the final retribution and doom of the wicked harassed his slumbers. +Suddenly he awoke, and dismal groans and unearthly rumblings struck his +terrified ear. "Sally! Sally!" said he, leaping from bed and giving his +sleeping spouse a vigorous shake, "why sleepest thou? arise and don thy +drab camlet and high-crowned cap, and prepare to meet thy Lord; for +behold he cometh!" + +"Samuel," said the good wife but half awake, "you are prating in your +sleep. Return to your pillow and be quiet till day-break." + +"You speak like a foolish virgin, Sally," returned the excited deacon. +"Do you not hear the roaring of the resurrection thunder and the wailings +of the wicked?" + +"I do hear something," said Mrs. Allen, now poking her night-capped head +from beneath the blankets, and listening a moment attentively. "'Tis a +sound of heavy carts drawn by oxen over frozen ground. Ay, I guess it is +the new family, that bought out neighbor Williams, moving their goods. +Just look out the window,--our yards join,--and see if there is not a +stir there." The deacon obeyed. + +"O, yes," said he, "I can distinguish several loaded teams and dusky +figures moving to and fro." + +"I thought 'twas the new-comers," returned the wife, who possessed more +ready wit and shrewdness than her amiable consort, and, withal, could +hear vastly better. "You had better come to bed again, Samuel;--'tis an +hour to daylight." + +"I cannot get to sleep again, I have been so disturbed," said the +husband, fidgetting round in the dark room to find his clothes. + +"O, pshaw!--put your deaf ear up and you'll soon fall off," answered the +wife, drawing the covering over her head. Deacon Allen, who had a very +high opinion of his wife's good sense, concluded to follow her advice, +and the happy couple were soon enjoying as pleasant a morning snooze, as +though neither the resurrection nor the "new family" had disturbed their +slumbers. + +Jenny Andrews and Amy Seaton, who slept in the room above, never heard a +sound, nor did Charlie in his cosey chamber beyond, and great was the +astonishment of the young people, on opening their casements, to behold +the long line of heavy-loaded teams drawn up in the yard of the splendid +mansion which stood next above Dea. Allen's, the former residence of Esq. +Williams. Teamsters in blue frocks were unfastening the smoking oxen from +the ponderous carts, and as the girls hurried below to impart the +intelligence of the arrival of the new family to Mrs. Allen, they heard +the voice of Mrs. Salsify Mumbles, and entering the sitting-room found +that lady laying aside her bonnet and shawl. Mary Madeline was standing +by the window gazing into the adjoining yard. Jenny and Amy had not seen +their former boarding mistress since they left her house at the close of +the summer term, several months before. But she was so elate about the +arrival of the new family that all memory of their former ill-usage +seemed to have escaped her, and she grasped the hands of both and shook +them cordially. "I am glad to see you," she exclaimed; "why have you not +called on us this fall? Mary Madeline has often said I wish Jenny and Amy +would come in, it would seem so much like old times. Here, my dear," said +she, seizing hold of the young lady's shawl and pulling her from the +window, "don't be so taken up with the new family that you can't speak to +your old friends." Mary Madeline now turned and spoke to her former +schoolmates. Then, drawing a chair close to the window, she resumed her +gaze, with her gloves and handkerchief lying unheeded on the floor and +her gay shawl dragging behind her. "O, mother! mother!" she exclaimed at +length, "there comes the family." + +Mrs. Salsify, who was engaged in telling Mrs. Allen of Mr. Salsify's +prosperity, and how he was "rising in his profession," and how he +meditated adding another story to his house and putting a piazza round it +next spring, dropped all, even her snuff-box, and rushed to the window as +a large covered wagon, drawn by a span of elegant black horses, drove +rapidly into the adjoining yard. First alighted a tall man in a black +overcoat,--the master no doubt, the gazers decided,--then a tall man in a +gray overcoat, then a tall man in a brown overcoat. And the man in the +black overcoat and the man in the gray overcoat moved away, the former up +the steps of the mansion and around the terraces, trying the fastenings +of the Venetian blinds, and examining the cornices and pillars of the +porticos; the latter turned in the direction of the stables and +outhouses, while the man in the brown overcoat assisted three ladies to +alight, all grown-up women, one short and fat, the other two tall and +thin. The gazers were a little puzzled by the appearance of the new +family. As far as they could discover there was no great difference in +the respective ages of the six individuals who had alighted from the +wagon, and Mrs. Salsify Mumbles declared it as her opinion that the +family consisted of three brothers who had married three sisters for +their wives. The short, fat woman, who had a rubicund visage and +turned-up nose, and wore a broad-plaided cashmere dress, drew forth a +bunch of keys from a wicker basket that hung on her arm, and with a +pompous tread ascended the marble steps, unlocked the broad, +mahogany-panelled door, turned the massive silver knob, and, swinging it +wide, strode in, the tall ladies in blue cloaks following close behind. +Soon sashes began to be raised, blinds flew open, and the tall ladies +were seen standing on high chairs hanging curtains of rich damask and +exquisitely wrought muslin, before the deep bay windows. The three tall +men threw off their overcoats, and, with the assistance of the +blue-frocked teamsters, commenced the business of unlading the carts. + +"All the furniture is bagged," said Mrs. Salsify, impatiently; "one +cannot get a glimpse to know whether 'tis walnut, or rosewood, or +mahogany. They mean to make us think 'tis pretty nice, whether 'tis or +not; but we shall find out some time, for they can't always be so shy. +Well, Mary Madeline," she added, turning to her daughter, "we may as well +go home, I guess;--there's nothing to be seen here but chairs and sofas +sewed up in canvas. I thought I would run over a few minutes, Mrs. Allen, +as I knew your windows looked right into the yard of the new comers, and +we could get a good view. Of course, we wanted to know what sort of folks +we were going to have for neighbors. I hope they'll be different from the +Williams'." + +"Why?" asked Mrs. Allen, looking up from the brown patch she was engaged +in sewing on the elbow of the deacon's black satinet coat. "I only hope +they will prove as good neighbors and I will be perfectly satisfied." + +"O, I don't know but what the Williams' were good enough, but they were +too exclusive, too aristocratic for me. Mrs. W. never thought Mary +Madeline fit for her Ellen to associate with." + +"How do you know she thought so?" asked Mrs. Allen; "for my part, I lived +Mrs. Williams' nearest neighbor for ten years or more, and always +considered her a very kind-hearted, unassuming woman, wholly untainted +with the pride and haughtiness which too often disfigure the characters +of those who possess large store of this world's goods and move in the +upper circles." + +"Well, you were more acquainted with Mrs. Williams than I was, of course; +but she was not the kind of woman to suit my taste. There's Mrs. Pimble +and Mrs. Lawson now, both rich and splendid, keep their carriages and +servants, but they are not above speaking to common people." + +"I am not personally acquainted with those ladies," answered Mrs. Allen. + +"They are reformers," said Mrs. Mumbles, in a reverential tone; "you +should hear their awful speeches. Daniel Webster could never equal them, +folks tell me." + +"I have understood that they belonged to the fanatical class of female +lecturers that have arisen in our country within the last few years." + +"O, they hold conventions everywhere, and such terrible gesticulations as +they pronounce against the tyranny and oppression of the female sex by +the monster man!" said Mrs. Salsify. "I declare I wish they would have +one of their indignation meetings here, for I think the men are getting +the upper hand among us." + +"Doubtless you would join their ranks should they do so," observed Mrs. +Allen, with a quiet smile, as she arose, gave the deacon's coat a shake, +and hung it on a peg behind the door. + +"Well, I don't know but I should," returned Mrs. S.; "but come, Maddie, +how we are wasting time! I declare, two carts are already unloaded, and +there goes the seminary bell. 'Tis nine o'clock." Jenny, Amy and Charlie, +ran down stairs all equipped for school, as Mrs. Mumbles and her daughter +stepped into the hall, and all went forth together. Mrs. M. repeated her +invitation for the young ladies and Charlie to visit her, and the girls +laughingly promised to do so at their first leisure. Mary Madeline went +to Edson's store on an errand, and her mother proceeded directly home. +Great was her anger to behold the back kitchen door swinging wide. She +shut it behind her with a slam, muttering some impatient exclamation +about Mr. Salsify's stupid carelessness. As she stood by the stove +warming her chilled fingers, a noise from the pantry startled her ears, +and, opening the door, she beheld the great, shaggy watch-dog, that +belonged to the store of Edson & Co., lying on his haunches with a nice +fat pullet between his paws, which he was devouring with evident relish +and gusto. He turned his head towards her, uttered a low growl, and went +on with his breakfast again. Mrs. Salsify looked up to a peg on which she +had hung six nicely-dressed chickens the night before. Alas! the last one +was between the bloody devourer's paws. She glanced toward a pot she had +left full of cream, under the shelves. It was empty; and toward her +rolling-board, where she had left a pan of rich pie-crust, with which she +was intending to cover her thanksgiving pies. All had disappeared. She +trembled with rage. + +"Get out, you thievish rascal!" she exclaimed, bringing her foot +violently to the floor. + +The dog sprang toward her, and, seizing the skirt of her gay-striped, +bombazine dress with his glistening ivories, rent it from the waist, flew +through the parlor window, and rushed through streets, by-lanes and +alleys, rending the flaring fabric, and dragging it through mud-holes +till it looked like some fiery-colored flag borne away by the enemy in +disgrace. + +Mrs. Salsify rushed down into her husband's shop in awful plight, her +hair standing on end, and her great, green eyes almost starting from +their sockets. Mr. Salsify looked with amazement on his lady, as did also +the half-score of customers that stood around his counters. Her +saffron-colored skirt was rent in divers places, revealing the black one +she wore beneath, and the gay-striped waist she still wore was hung round +with ragged fragments of the vanished skirt. + +"Lord, love us, what is the matter?" exclaimed Mr. Salsify, rushing +toward his wife. + +"Edson's dog has eat up six chickens, a cream-pot, a rolling-board, +pie-crust, and all!" exclaimed Mrs. Mumbles, with a frantic air, as she +fell into her husband's outstretched arms, wholly unmindful of the +laughter her appearance and words had excited among her good man's +customers. + +"Edson's dog,--how could he get into the house?" demanded Mr. Mumbles. + +"I saw him out with Dick Giblet, this morning, when he was leaving +packages," said little Joe Bowles, with a mischievous leer in his black +eyes. + +The husband and wife exchanged a glance. The whole truth flashed upon +them,--'twas a trick of Dick's. Mr. Salsify ordered his customers to +leave the shop, and locking the door, he led his terrified, trembling +wife up stairs, where they found Mary Madeline lying on the floor in a +fainting fit, with the fragments of her mother's skirt clenched tightly +in her cold hands. + + + + + CHAPTER VI. + + "Her face was fairer than face of earth; + What was the thing to liken it to? + A lily just dipped in the summer dew? + Parian marble--snow's first fall? + Her brow was fairer than each,--than all. + And so delicate was each vein's soft blue, + 'Twas not like blood that wandered through. + Rarely upon that cheek was shed, + By health or by youth, one tinge of red, + And never closest look could descry, + In shine or shade, the hue of her eye, + But, as it were made of light, it changed + With every sunbeam that over it ranged." + + +The midnight stars were over all the heaven, O, wildly, wildly bright! +Orion, like a flaming monarch, led up "the host of palpitating stars" to +their proud zenith, while, far in the boreal regions, danced strange, +atmospheric lights, with flitting, fantastic motions and ever-changing +forms and colors. A young girl stood in the deep recess of a large +window, with the rich, blue-wrought damask curtains wrapped closely about +her slight, fragile form, gazing intently on the splendors of the +midnight heaven. Long she stood there, and no sound broke the stillness, +save now and then a half-audible sigh. At length she said, "I cannot +endure this solitude and the depression which is stealing over me. Would +that I had a mother to love and bless me! Father is often so strange and +silent, and Rufus cannot sympathize with my feelings. I must call Sylva +to bear me company, for one of my nervous attacks is upon me, and I +cannot sleep." Softly opening a side-door, she said, in a voice scarcely +above a whisper, "Sylva, are you awake?" + +"Yes," was the answer; "what is your wish, Miss Edith?" + +"That you would come and sit with me a while." + +"What time is it!" + +"I know not; but, by the stars, it should be little after midnight." + +"Return to your room, and I will soon be there with a light," answered +the one called Sylva. + +The young girl did as requested, and sank down in a large arm-chair which +nearly concealed her in its soft cushions. Presently the small side-door +opened, and Sylva entered, bearing an astral lamp and a few light pieces +of kindling wood. + +"O, I don't mind a fire!" said Miss Edith. + +"Well, I do," answered the woman; "you would catch your death, up here +half the night with no fire." + +"'Tis a cold place we are come to, isn't it Sylva?" said the young lady, +springing from her chair and wrapping an elegant cashmere dressing-gown, +lined with azure satin, round her tall, delicate figure, and then again +sinking down among the soft velvet cushions of her spacious fauteuil. + +"Yes, Miss Edith, it is, indeed," answered Sylva, as she lighted a bright +fire in the polished grate. "How your father expects to rear so fragile a +bud in this bleak region I do not know." + +"I have never seen him in such spirits as since we came here," returned +Edith, toying with the silken tassels of her rich robe. "You know he was +always so silent and reserved in our former home, Sylva. But sometimes I +fancy there is something unnatural in his manner. One moment he will +laugh wildly, and the next a dark frown will have gathered on his brow. +Twice he has caught me in his arms and said, 'Edith! Edith, you have a +part to play, and I rely on you to do it!' Then he would look on me so +sternly, I would burst into tears, and strive to free myself from his +embrace. What did he mean by such words, Sylva?" + +"Why, that you are coming on to the stage of action, and he desires you +to be educated and accomplished in a manner to adorn the high circles in +which you will move." + +"O, more than that, Sylva!" said Edith doubtfully; "he need not have +looked so stern, were that all; but still he is a kind, indulgent father +for the most part. I should not complain;" and the young girl relapsed +into thoughtful silence. The pale fire-light glowed on her delicate +features. One tiny white hand rested on the cushioned arm of the chair, +and the large, melancholy blue eyes were fixed on the glowing blaze +within the shining ebon grate. The profile was strictly Grecian in +outline, and the soft, silken hair fell in a shower of golden ripples +over her small, sloping shoulders. Her lips were vermilion red, and +disclosed two rows of tiny pearls whenever they parted with dimpling +smiles. + +"Have you become acquainted with any of the village people, Sylva?" asked +the fair girl, rousing at length from her reverie. + +"No, save this young Mrs. Edson, who called yesterday, I have seen no +one," returned the woman, "unless I mention that sunken-eyed washerwoman, +Dilly Danforth, as she is called." + +"O, I saw her on the steps one day! What a forlorn-looking creature she +is! I think she must be very poor. Still, it seems to me there should be +no poverty in this rich, happy-appearing village. I fancy it will be a +love of a place in summer, Sylva, when all the maples and lindens are in +leaf, and the numerous gardens in flower. O, when father took me out in +the new sleighing phaeton last week, I saw a most magnificent mansion, +grander than ours, even. The grounds seemed beautifully laid out, and +over the arching gateway I read the words 'Summer Home' sculptured in the +marble. It is closed at present, but when the occupants return in the +spring, I hope I shall get to know them, for I would dearly love to visit +at so delightful a place. Father said I should become acquainted with the +family. He knows their names, and I think said he had met the gentleman +once." Edith grew quite smiling and happy as she prattled on, forming +plans and diversions for the coming summer. Sylva listened to her +innocent conversation in respectful silence, and, after a while, as the +fire burned low, and the cocks began to crow from their neighboring +perches, the sweet girl ceased to speak. She had wearied herself and +fallen asleep. + +The sun was shining brightly through the blue damask curtains when she +awoke, and Sylva was bending over her, parting away the rich masses of +auburn curls which had fallen over her face as she leaned her head over +the arm of the chair. "Your father and Rufus are calling for you," said +the attendant pleasantly. + +"Why, how long I have slept!" said Edith, opening her blue eyes with a +wondering expression. "What o'clock is it, Sylva?" + +"It is half-past nine," answered the woman. + +"I have been dreaming the strangest dream about that beautiful mansion I +was telling you I saw in my ride the other day--that 'Summer Home,' as it +is so sweetly styled. I thought I saw a lovely young girl there, younger +than myself, but far more womanly in aspect, and she said she was my +cousin, and kissed me, and gave me rare flowers and delicious fruit. Did +you say father had called for me? Well, I'll dress and go down in the +parlor. What are you doing there, Sylva?" + +"Getting your muff and tippet," answered she. + +"Is father going to take me out?" asked Edith with animation. + +"Rufus is going to take you to church," said Sylva. "He said you +expressed a wish to go last Sabbath, but it was too cold. To-day is more +pleasant, and he is ready to attend you." + +"He is kind," said Edith. "Am I not a naughty girl to murmur when I have +a brother so good, and a father who loves me so dearly?" + +"You do not murmur, do you, Miss Edith?" + +"Sometimes I wish I had a mother, or that she had lived long enough to +leave her form and features impressed on my memory." + +A tear fell as the fair girl spoke thus, but she brushed it quickly away, +and commenced arraying herself for church. + +"I shall be delighted to behold the interior of that antiquated looking +building," remarked she, as Sylva placed the dainty hat over the +clustering curls; "and, besides, I can see all the village people, and +form some opinion of those who are henceforth to constitute our +associates and friends." + +"And all the people will see you, too," said Sylva, smiling. + +"O, I don't mind that!" answered Edith; "they would all see me, sooner or +later, as I'm to go to school, in the spring, at the white seminary on +the hill." + +Thus speaking, the beautiful girl descended to the drawing-room. A tall, +elegantly-proportioned man, with a magnificent head of raven black hair, +which hung in one dense mass of luxuriant curls all round his broad, +marble-like brow, and quite over his manly shoulders, was leaning in a +careless, graceful attitude against a splendid mahogany-cased piano, that +stood in the centre of the apartment, and moving his white, taper fingers +over the pearl-tipped keys, waking now rich bursts of song, and, anon, +dwelling long on deep, solemn notes, that pierced the soul with +melancholy. He did not move when the door opened, and Edith crossed the +room and stood beside him ere he noticed her presence. + +"Where is brother Rufus?" she asked, drawing on her tiny, lemon-colored +gloves. + +The gentleman turned and gazed down upon the fair speaker. The clear +complexion and soft blue eyes of the daughter were exact counterparts of +the father's; so were the rich red lips and pearly teeth. Their only +point of difference was in the color of the hair. "What do you want of +Rufus?" asked he, in a tone almost stern, after he had gazed on her +several moments in silence. She turned her speaking eyes upon his face, +and answered, "Sylva said he would take me to church." + +"To church!" said her father, now relaxing his features into a smile, +"what an odd fancy! And are you arrayed in this fine garb to attend +service in an old, dilapidated country church?" + +"Do you think me very finely-dressed?" said Edith, archly, as she for a +moment surveyed herself in the large mirror which hung from ceiling to +floor between the eastern windows. She wore a crimson velvet dress and +mantle, a muff and tippet of white ermine, and a chapeau of light blue +satin, with a long, drooping white plume. Her hair was gathered into +luxuriant masses of curls each side of her sweet face, and confined by +sprays of pearls and turquoises. + +Rufus now entered. He was very unlike his sister in personal appearance. +His hair was the color of his father's, but far less abundant, and +straight as an Indian's. Eyes and complexion were both dark, and his +countenance indicative of rather low intelligence, and weak intellectual +powers. The father looked on him as though he was not quite satisfied +with the son who was, probably, to perpetuate his name. + +"Are you ready, Edith?" asked the youth. + +"Yes," she returned. He approached to give her his arm, and, as they were +passing out, Edith caught her father looking grimly on them, and said +quickly, "Do you mind our going to church, papa? We will stay at home if +you wish." + +"No, go along!" said he. "I'll not thwart you in so small a matter, and +hope I may never have occasion to in a greater!" Edith looked up in his +face as he uttered these last words. There was a dark shade flitting over +it. It haunted her all the while she was walking to church; but so many +things occupied her attention, after entering, it passed from her mind. + + + + + CHAPTER VII. + + "I fain would know why woman is outraged, + And trampled in the very dust by man, + Who vaunts himself the lord of all the earth, + And e'en the mighty realms of sea and air." + + +Winter was passing away, and Wimbledon was making but slow progress +toward the better knowledge of the new family that had come among them. +The silver plate on the hall door announced the master's name as Col. J. +Corydon Malcome, a sounding appellation enough; and he was often seen +walking up and down the streets in his rich, fur-lined overcoat and laced +velvet cap, placed with a courtly air over his cloud of ebon curls. He +was known to be a widower, and the woful extravagancies into which Mary +Madeline Mumbles cajoled her doting mother, were enough to make one +shudder in relating. Wimbledon was ransacked for the gayest taffetas, the +jauntiest bonnets, and broadest Dutch lace, till, at length, poor Mr. +Salsify went to his wife with a doleful countenance, and told her he +could never "rise in his profession" as long as she upheld Madeline in +such whimsical extravagance. Mrs. Salsify looked lofty, and tossed her +carroty head; but her husband had waxed bold in his distress, and could +not be intimidated by ireful brows, or pursed-up lips. So he proceeded to +free his mind on this wise: "As for Mary Madeline's ever catching that +haughty, black-headed Col. Malcome, I know better; she can't do it, and I +would much rather have her marry Theophilus Shaw, who is a steady, modest +shoemaker. He makes good wages, and can maintain a wife comfortably, and +would treat her well; which is more than I would trust that +murderous-looking colonel to do." + +"Well, you will have your own way, I suppose," said Mrs. S., putting on +an injured expression. "I see it is about as Mrs. Pimble and the +sisterhood tell me. Men are all a set of tyrants, and the women are their +slaves." + +"Come, come, wife!" said Mr. Salsify, impatiently; "pray, don't get any +of those foolish notions in your head. Depend upon it, nothing could so +effectually put a stop to my 'rising in my profession.' The piazza and +second story could never be built, if you neglected your home affairs, +and went cantering about the country, like those evil-spirited women, +turning everything topsy-turvy, and mocking at all law and order; but I +know my wife has a mind too delicate and feminine to commit such bold, +masculine actions." + +Mr. Mumbles had chosen the right weapon with which to combat his wife's +inclinations toward the Woman's Rights mania. A love of flattery was her +weak point. It is with half her sex. We too often say, by way of +expressing our disapproval of a certain man, "O, he is a gross +flatterer!" thus very frequently condemning the quality we most admire in +him;--or, if not the one we most admire, at least the one which affords +us most pleasure and gratification when in his society. But to our tale: + +On a certain blustering January day, a sleigh, containing two ladies and +a gentleman, drove to the door of Col. Malcome's elegant mansion, and +were ushered into the spacious drawing-room by the blooming-visaged +housekeeper. Col. Malcome arose from the luxurious sofa on which he had +been reclining among a profusion of costly furs, and received his +visitors with an air of courtly magnificence, which might have had the +effect to intimidate a modest, retiring female; but not king Solomon in +all his glory could intimidate or abash Mrs. Judith Justitia Pimble, or +Mrs. Rebecca Potentia Lawson. As for poor, insignificant Peter Pimble, he +looked quite aghast with terror and astonishment at his own temerity in +penetrating to a presence so imposing and sublime, and cuddled away in +the most obscure corner he could find, while his majestic wife assumed a +velvet-cushioned arm-chair, which stood beside a marble table. + +"Perhaps you do not know our names?" said Mrs. Pimble, bending a sharp +glance on Col. Malcome from beneath her shaggy brows. + +"I certainly have not that pleasure, madam," answered the colonel, with a +graceful bow. + +"I do not like that style of address," said Mrs. Lawson, arising from the +ottoman on which she had been sitting, with her broad, white palms +extended to the warmth of the glowing grate, and throwing her stately +form upon a crimson sofa; "it is a fawning, affected, puppyish manner, +which men assume when speaking to women, as if they were not capable of +understanding and appreciating a plain, common-sense mode of address." + +"Ah, yes!" said Mrs. Pimble, "man has so long reigned a tyrant of +absolute sway, that centuries will pass, I fear, before he is dethroned, +and woman elevated to her proper stand among the nations of the earth." + +Here she tossed her bonnet on the table, smoothed her bushy hair, and, +drawing a red bandanna from her pocket, gave her long nose a vigorous +rub, and settled herself in her soft chair again. Col. Malcome sat bolt +upright among the furs which were piled up around him, and stared at his +visitors. Yes, refined and polite though he was, he forgot his +good-breeding in surprise at the coarse, singular manners of his +involuntary guests. The figure in the extreme corner of the apartment at +length attracted his notice, and placing a chair in proximity to the +fire, he said, "Will you not be seated, sir?" + +The muffled shape moved, but the brawny lady in the rocking-chair spoke, +and it was still again. + +"O, Pimble can stand, Mr. Malcome," she said, "that's his name, and mine +is Mrs. Judith Justitia Pimble, author of tracts for the amelioration of +enslaved and down-trodden woman; and this is Mrs. Rebecca Potentia +Lawson, my sister and co-operater in the work of reform." + +Col. Malcome bowed; but, recollecting the rebuff one brief remark of his +had received, remained silent. + +"The object of our visit," said Mrs. Lawson, "is to see and confer with +the ladies of your household." + +"Begging your pardon," said the colonel, "my family contains but one +lady." + +"Ah, the one we met at the door, then?" remarked Mrs. Pimble. + +"No, madam; that was my housekeeper," returned the colonel. + +"Well, what do you call _her_?" asked Mrs. Lawson. + +"My housekeeper, madam, as I have just informed you." + +"She has no other name, I suppose?" said Mrs. Pimble, in a loud, ironical +tone; "she is to you a housekeeper, as a horse is a horse, or a cow a +cow;--not a woman"---- + +"O, yes! a woman, certainly," interrupted the colonel. + +"A woman, but not a lady?" continued Mrs. Pimble. + +The gentleman bowed as if he felt himself understood. "Well, sir," said +Mrs. Lawson, peering on him through her green glasses, "will you please +to inform us of the difference between a woman and a lady?" + +Col. Malcome, who loved the satirical, had a mind to apply it here, but +his politeness restrained him, and he merely remarked, "In a general +sense, none: in a particular, very great." + +"That is, in _your_ opinion," said Mrs. Pimble. "Now let me tell you +there is no difference, whatever. The wide world over, every woman is a +lady--(the colonel hemmed,)--every woman is a lady," repeated Mrs. P., +"and every lady is a woman." + +"That is, in _your_ opinion?" remarked Col. Malcome. + +"In every sensible person's opinion." + +"Well, sister Justitia," said Mrs. Lawson, drawing forth a massive silver +watch, by a steel fob-chain; "we are wasting time. There's but an hour to +the lecture, and we have several miles to ride. Let us state the object +of our visit in a form suited to this man's comprehension." + +The colonel felt rather small, on hearing this depreciation of his +intellectual powers, but said nothing. + +"Well, make the statement, sister Potentia," said Mrs. Pimble, folding +her brawny arms over her capacious chest, and giving a loud, masculine +ahem. + +"Mr. Malcome, we would like to see the female portion of your household," +said Mrs. Lawson, in a slow, measured tone, with an emphasis on every +word. + +As the colonel, indignant at the coarse vulgarity of the intruders, was +about to reply in the negative--the door opened, and Edith entered, +accompanied by Sylva, who led a small, white Spanish poodle by a silver +cord. The little animal capered gracefully about, cutting all sorts of +cunning antics, much to the amusement of the young girl, till at length +discovering the muffled shape of Pimble behind the door, he ran up to +him, smelt at his clothes, and commenced a furious barking. + +"You had better go out doors, Pimble," said his wife; "you are so +contemptible a thing even insignificant curs yelp at your heels." + +Mrs. Lawson laughed loudly at this witty speech, and the poor man was +about disappearing outside the door, when Col. Malcome prevented his exit +by bidding him be seated, and ordering Sylva to drive Fido from the room. +Quiet being restored, and Mr. Pimble having ventured to drop tremblingly +on the extreme edge of the chair offered for his comfort and convenience, +Col. Malcome said, "You wished to see the female portion of my +household:--here are two of them; my daughter and her attendant." + +"Her attendant!" remarked Mrs. Lawson, "I do not know as I exactly +understand the signification of that term, as applied by you in the +present instance." + +"Her waiting-woman, then," answered the colonel, "if that is a plainer +term." + +"Ay, yes; her waiting-woman," resumed Mrs. L. "Well, your daughter looks +rather puny and sickly. She needs exercise in the open air, I should +say,--narrow-chested,--comes from a consumptive family on the mother's +side?" + +"Madam," said Col. Malcome, with a sudden anger in his tone and manner, +"I don't know as it is any business of yours, from what family my +daughter comes." + +"O, no particular business," continued Mrs. Lawson, with undisturbed +equanimity; "I only judged her to come of a consumptive race by her face +and form. Public speaking would be an excellent remedy for her weakly +appearance. That enlarges the lungs, and creates confidence and reliance +on one's own powers. Miss Malcome, would you not like to attend some of +our lectures and reform clubs?" + +"I don't know," answered Edith, tremblingly. "I think I would if father +is willing;" and she turned her sweet blue eyes up to his face, as if to +read there her permission or refusal. + +"A slave to parental authority, I see," remarked Mrs. Pimble; "but this +lady, grown to years of maturity; she, surely, should have a mind of her +own. Don't you think woman is made a galley-slave by the tyrant man?" she +demanded, turning her discourse on Sylva, who looked confused, as if she +did not quite understand the speech addressed to her. At length, she +asked timidly, "What woman do you refer to, madam?" "To all women upon +the face of the earth!" returned Mrs. Pimble, vehemently. "Are they not +loaded with chains and fetters, and crushed down in filthy mire and dirt +by self-inflated, tyrannizing man?" + +"O, no!" answered Sylva, innocently; "no man ever put a chain on me, or +on any woman of my acquaintance, or ever pushed one down in the dirt." + +"Poor fool!" exclaimed Mrs. Pimble, with great indignation; "you are +grovelling in the mire of ignorance, and man's foot is on your neck to +hold you there." + +The figure that trembled on the edge of the chair was now heard calling +faintly, "Mrs. Pimble--Mrs. Pimble." + +"Pimble speaks, sister Justitia," said Mrs. Lawson. + +"What do you want?" asked the lady, turning sharply round. + +"'Tis four o'clock, ma'am," gasped he. + +"Four o'clock! didn't I tell you I wished to be at the lecture-room at +that hour?" + +"I didn't like to interrupt you," he answered feebly. + +"What a fool of a man!" exclaimed the enraged wife. "Bring the sleigh to +the door, instanter;" and Pimble rushed out, the ladies following close +on his heels, vociferating at the top of their voices, without even a +parting salutation to the family they had been visiting. + + + + + CHAPTER VIII. + + "It is a hermit. + Well, methinks I've read + In romance tales of such strange beings oft; + But surely ne'er did think these eyes should see + The living, breathing, walking counterpart. + Canst tell me where he dwells? + Far in the woods, + In a lone hut, apart from all his kind." + + OLD PLAY. + + +The pale moonbeams peeped through the rents and crevices of Dilly +Danforth's wretched abode, as the poor woman sat on the hearth with +Willie's head lying in her lap, while he read by the flickering +fire-light from the pages of a well-worn Bible. The little fellow had +never fully recovered from that long, painful illness that had nearly +cost him his life, and from which it is very possible he would never +have arisen but for those little bundles of firewood that were so +providentially laid on poor Dilly's threshold, by some charitable, though +unknown, hand. They still continued to be placed there, and it was well +they were so, for Mrs. Danforth's health had failed so much she was not +able to perform half her former amount of labor; and had it not been for +these small armfuls of fuel, which very much resembled those Willie used +to collect, the washerwoman and her boy must have perished during the +long, cold winter season. Yes, perished in the very midst of Wimbledon; +within a stone's throw of many a well-filled woodyard, and under the nose +of a Mrs. Pimble's philanthropic efforts for the amelioration of her +species. Dilly's neglect on the part of the many arose, not so much from +inhumanity and covetousness, as from a wrong bias, which a few words had +created in the people's minds. A report had passed through the village, +several months before, purporting to come from a reliable source, which +represented Mrs. Danforth as not so poor as she appeared; that she +assumed her poverty-stricken garb and appearance to excite sympathy, and +thus swindle, in a small way, from the purses of her wealthy neighbors. +There is nothing of which people have a greater horror than of being +humbugged, if they know it; so, for the most part, the Wimbledonians +turned a deaf ear and cold shoulder on the washerwoman's sorrowful +supplications for charity. Little Edith Malcome pitied the pale, sad face +that appeared at the kitchen door every Monday morning, and always asked +her father's permission to give her a basket of victuals to carry home, +which were always received with many grateful expressions by the poor +woman. + +Edith sat by the drawing-room window, one bleak, stormy winter morning, +watching the snow as it fell silently to the earth, when a man of +singular appearance, walking slowly along the opposite side of the +street, attracted her notice. + +"O, father!" exclaimed she quickly, "come here; the oddest-looking man is +going past." + +Col. Malcome rose from his seat by the fire and approached the window. +"What a disgusting appearance he presents!" said he, gazing on the +slowly-receding figure. "It angers me to see a man degrade himself by +such uncouth apparel." + +"O, not disgusting! is he, father?" said Edith, "only odd and droll; and +his face looked so pale and mild, I thought it really pretty. If he only +wouldn't wear that short-waisted, long-tailed coat, with those funny +little capes on the shoulders, and leave off that great tall-crowned hat +with its broad, slouching brim, and have a little cane instead of that +long pole he carries in his hand, he would be quite a pretty man,--don't +you think so, father?" + +"Well, really I don't know how he might look were he thus transformed," +answered Col. Malcome. "I only expressed my opinion of his present +appearance." + +"Don't you know who he is?" asked Edith. + +"No," said her father, returning to his seat. + +"Well, I wish you would try and learn his name," pursued the fair girl. + +"What for?" asked Col. M., resuming the perusal of the volume he had left +to obey her summons to the window. + +"Because I would like to know it," returned she. "I fancy he is some +relation of that pale Dilly Danforth's, for he has just such mournful +eyes." + +"I do not wish to see them then," said her father, with some impatience +of manner, "for I don't like the expression of that woman's eyes." + +"They are very sad," said Edith, "but sorrow has made them so. I think +they were once very beautiful. But won't you learn this strange man's +name? Perhaps he is very poor, and we could alleviate his wants by kind +charities." + +"No," answered Col. M. in a tone which dismissed the subject; "I cannot +run about the country to hunt up old stragglers for you to bestow alms +upon." + +Edith looked on her father's stern brow, and, feeling it was useless to +urge her plea any longer, stole away to her own apartment, where she +found Sylva engaged in feeding her canaries and furnishing them with +fresh water. The little bright creatures were singing sweetly, but Edith +did not heed their songs. She stood apart by a window, and gazed out on +the falling snowflakes. At length she saw Rufus enter the yard, and soon +heard him ascending the stairs. "Where have you been, brother?" she +asked, as he came in, his face reddened by exposure to the cold, biting +atmosphere. + +"Down on the river, skating with some of the village boys," answered he, +drawing a chair close to the glowing fire; "and O, such a fine time as we +had! I shall be glad when we go to school, Edith; it will be so much more +lively and pleasant." + +"I shall be glad when the snow is gone, so I can run out doors, and sow +my flower-beds," returned Edith, thoughtfully. Then she sat gazing in the +fire a long time, as was always her wont when thinking deeply on any +subject. Sylva had finished her care of the birds, and brought forth Fido +from his little cot-bed in her room. He sprang into Edith's lap, then +into Rufus', kissing their cheeks and evincing his joy at beholding them +in various pleasing, expressive ways. But Edith pushed him away and told +Sylva to put him to bed again. So the brisk little fellow was carried +off, looking very sorry, and wailing piteously, as if he pleaded +permission to remain by the warm fire. + +Rufus was younger than his sister, and of an intelligence and refinement +so far below hers, that she seldom evinced much pleasure or enjoyment in +his society, but she looked towards him now with an eager expression of +interest, as he said, + +"O, Edith, I saw the funniest man this morning!" + +"Where?" she asked quickly. + +"Down by the side of the river among a clump of brushwood, gathering +little bundles of sticks. Charlie Seaton and I spoke to him, but he did +not answer us." + +"Did he wear a long overcoat with small capes on the shoulders, and a +slouching-brimmed hat?" inquired Edith earnestly. + +"Yes," said Rufus. "Have you seen him, then?" + +"Passing along in the street," returned she. "Did Charlie know his name?" + +"No; but he said it was a man who lived alone in a small hut, far off in +the forest, made of the boughs and branches of cedar trees, curiously +twisted together; and he is thence styled the _Hermit of the Cedars_." + +"A hermit!" exclaimed Edith. "I have read of such beings in old books, +but I never supposed they really existed, or at least never expected I +should see one with my own eyes. I shall like this place better than +ever, now; it will be so romantic to have a hermit in our vicinity. What +do you suppose he was going to do with his bundles of sticks, Rufus?" + +"Use them for firewood, probably," said he. + +"But I should have thought he might have obtained that in the forest +where he lives, and not been obliged to travel all the way down here, +this stormy day, to pick up wood from among the snow, and then carry it +two or three miles in his arms," said Edith, in a ruminating tone. + +"O, hermits are strange beings, sis!" answered Rufus, whistling a vacant +tune as he stood before the window gazing forth on the dismal storm which +debarred him from his accustomed diversion of skating on the frozen +surface of the river. + +While his children were occupied with the preceding conversation, Col. +Malcome had donned his fur-lined overcoat and stepped across the yard to +Deacon Allen's cottage. The good people were quite embarrassed to behold +so smart a visitor in their unostentatious little parlor, but the +colonel, by his gentlemanly grace, soon placed them at their ease. After +a few moments' conversation on general topics, he asked, casually enough, +who was the owner of the fine mansion he had noticed in his rambles about +town, with the appellation "Summer Home" sculptured on its marble +gateway? + +"O, that is Major Tom Howard's!" answered Deacon Allen. "His family have +made it their abode for six or eight months every season since they owned +it; and I understand, after their next return, it is to become their +permanent residence." + +"'Tis a delightful location," remarked Colonel M.; "a very large mansion. +Has Mr. Howard a family corresponding with its dimensions?" + +"O, no, only a wife and one child--a beautiful girl." + +"How old is his daughter?" inquired the colonel. + +"Well, about fourteen I should say; but seems much older from her matured +growth and manners." + +"Has Mr. Howard no sister living with him?" asked the visitor, +carelessly. + +"No," answered the deacon. + +"And has he not lost one?" + +"Not since he came among us; though his wife, I have understood, always +dresses in black. She is a confirmed invalid and seldom seen." + +"Then the family do not mingle much in society?" said the colonel. + +The deacon shook his head. + +"Somewhat aristocratic, probably," remarked the visitor. + +"I should judge so," said the deacon. "They don't send Florence to +school, but keep three tutors for her at home. She is very accomplished, +but rather wilful and proud, they say." + +"The effect of over-indulgence, perhaps," said the colonel, rising. + +"Will you not honor us with another call?" asked Mrs. Allen. + +"With pleasure," answered he, bowing a graceful good-morning to his +delighted entertainers. + + + + + CHAPTER IX. + + "A vestal priestess, proudly pure + But of a meek and quiet spirit; + With soul all dauntless to endure + And mood so calm that naught can stir it, + Save when a thought most deeply thrilling + Her eyes with gentlest tears is filling, + Which seem with her true words to start + From the deep fountain of her heart." + + +The fine parlors of Mr. Leroy Edson's tasteful mansion were brilliantly +illuminated. Warm fires glowed in the shining marble grates. Dim argand +lamps bathed in soft light the rich furniture, carved cornices, and rare +statuary which decorated the mantels. The elite of Wimbledon were +assembling, and young Mrs. Edson moved lightly to and fro, receiving her +numerous guests with graceful self-possession, and welcoming them to her +home and heart with warm, earnest cordiality. They were nearly all +strangers to her, as she had been but a few months installed mistress of +Mr. Edson's splendid mansion; but she felt they were the people among +whom she was henceforth to live and find her associates and friends. She +had made one call, only, since her arrival in Wimbledon, and that on Col. +Malcome's family, who were later comers than herself. + +Louise Edson was graceful, brilliant, beautiful. O, what a wealth of +thought and intellect was hers; what a broad, generous nature; what +lightning-like perceptions, quick, far-seeing judgment, sparkling humor +and sarcastic wit! She floated in a sea of exuberant life and beauty, +which was fed continually from the exhaustless fountains of her own +thought-wealthy soul. Her calm, clear eyes mirrored the bright fancies +that flitted through her brain. The chestnut hair, brushed away from the +youthful brow, revealed the tiny blue veins on the white expanding +temples; while the high, straight nose and curved nostrils, with the +sweet little mouth and tapering chin that smiled below, made up a face +whose regular features were its least claim to beauty. It was the soul +within which shone over these features and lighted them at times with +supernatural loveliness. And was this brilliant being understood and +appreciated by the man who had won her for his bride? Faugh!--we blush at +our own stupidity in asking the question. Are such lofty souls ever +appreciated by even one of the swarming masses that people the earth with +their corporeal bodies? Let those answer who can. + +But Louise, soaring as was her nature, was yet cursed with that weakness +which too often possesses souls like hers, swaying e'en a more tyrant +sceptre than in meaner breasts, as though in envious hate of those +sky-aspiring pinions, and a demon wish to make them lick the dust. She +was an orphan, with no relative save a maiden aunt, with whom she dwelt. +She felt alone in the wide world, and she wanted--O, pity her, reader, if +you can!--she wanted somebody to lean on, somebody to look up to. Could +she not lean on her own strong intellect, and look up to the stars?--or +could she not breathe forth her rich-laden soul in lofty song and +romance, and lean upon the pillars of a world-wide fame? No, O, no! With +all her strength of soul and intellect, she had weak woman's heart. She +must love and be loved; and when the wealthy Mr. Leroy Edson knelt, an +enamored knight, at the shrine of her youth and beauty, she gave him her +hand. He thought he had done a most generous deed in thus raising a poor, +lone orphan girl from comparative obscurity to a position among the +highest circles of society. Her superior education and gem-freighted soul +were all the fortune she brought him; a fortune greater than the +treasures of Ind., but of whose princely value he had not the power to +form the most distant estimate. To behold her tall, graceful figure +flitting through his elegant mansion, performing some light household +duty, receiving her guests or chatting and singing gayly through the long +evenings, was, to him, life's whole of happiness. And was Louise +altogether content with the man of her choice? No, or she had not +gathered Wimbledon about her to make merry the midnight hour. People do +not give fetes to display their happiness. They give them too often to +relieve a tedious monotony, to silence a gnawing discontent, and forget +for the moment in hilarious excitement some uneasy foreboding of evil to +come, or disquieting conviction that all, even now, is not as it should +be. + +Louise had not been many weeks Mrs. Edson, before she discovered the man +she had taken for "better or worse" till death should separate them, was +no helpmeet for her. They had not a thought or sympathy in common. He +hired servants to execute her commands; bought her fine clothes, and fine +books too, when he found these latter most delighted her; but he never +wished to hear her read from them, and invariably yawned if she spoke of +literary subjects. He was good-natured and fond of display, with a fair +estimate of his own importance and standing in society. He regarded +himself as one of the pillars of Wimbledon's wealth and +prosperity;--remove him, and the whole structure would tremble and +perhaps go down with a crash to rise no more. It took but a brief time +for Louise to read her husband's soul through and through; and with her +sharp, critical nature, that could not understand and would not overlook +faults and follies to which her bosom was a stranger, she decided she had +_married a fool_. What was to be done? The act was voluntary on her +part. True, a longer acquaintance between the parties might have led to +a different result, but it was too late to think of that now. And this +was the end of all her heart-longings for some one to love and +reverence, to lean on and look up to! O, how intense was her agony! All +her fine feelings wasted, her soul's wealth poured idly forth, and her +rich life in its blooming years given to one who could not understand +one of her lofty dreams or soaring aspirations. A falcon with sun-daring +eyes tied to a grovelling buzzard! Was't not a hard fate, reader? Pity +her, all ye who can,--pity her a great deal; mourn over her cruel wreck +of happiness; and if in future years the warm, impassioned nature, +goaded by its own unuttered pangs, driven wild by its rayless, hopeless +desolation, is guilty of some irregularities, some acts which virtue and +propriety can hardly sanction, O, remember her early sufferings, and be +merciful! + +Mr. Edson's party passed off pleasantly. All seemed delighted with their +entertainment. The lord of the mansion was in great good-humor, and his +beautiful wife the star of the evening. In a simple robe of dark blue +cashmere, which fastened low over her white, sloping shoulders, and +fitted closely her slender waist, while the ample folds swept the rich +tapestry carpets, she moved among her guests like the embodiment of a +graceful thought. Her luxuriant brown hair was gathered in bands at the +back of her head; a massive chain and cross of gold ornamented her +swan-like neck, and bands of the same material clasped her round, white +arms. Small wonder that Mr. Edson should feel proud of his wife. The +whole evening she was the centre of a delighted group. All flocked around +to hear her brilliant conversation and gaze on her animated, expressive +features. Col. Malcome and the gentle Edith engaged a large share of her +attention and regard. The young girl was insensibly attracted by the +affectionate interest evinced in her manner, and the sweet voice and +beaming smile with which she addressed her. Col. Malcome expressed his +admiration of the exquisite taste displayed in the furnishing of her +parlors. + +"I cannot tell you, Mrs. Edson," said he, "what I most admire in your +elegant drawing-rooms. They are one harmonious whole; but if you were +removed, I think I would very soon discover what was wanting to render +them complete." + +"Now," said Louise, "let me tell you at the commencement of our +acquaintance, which I hope for my humble sake may continue to be +cultivated, that I detest flattery of all things;" and she turned a +smiling glance on him, as these piquant words fell from her pretty, red +lips, rendered more than usually charming by the slight sarcastic curl +she gave them. + +"So do I," returned he; "but truth is not flattery." + +"In the language of the poet," said she, laughing, "I will not seek to +cope with you in compliment. Do you know I feel a lively interest in your +beautiful daughter?" + +"I am gratified to know it," said he, glancing on the bright creature at +his side with an expressive glance. "Edith is a timid little thing; she +would improve under your accomplished tuition. Not that I have the +presumption to ask for her your care and instructions beyond what she +might receive by a neighborly interchange of visits." + +"O, say she may spend a portion of every week with me, when spring opens +and the earth is divested of its garb of snow!" said Louise, in a tone of +affectionate eagerness. "You cannot tell how her innocent gayety would +lighten many of my weary hours." + +Col. Malcome started as he heard these words, and turned a searching +glance upon her. A slight blush suffused her cheek for a moment, but she +soon regained her self-possession. It was one of her faults to give too +free, unrestrained expression to her thoughts. They came welling up to +her lips, and escaped ere she was aware. + +For several moments he continued to gaze on her, and there was something +in his countenance that instantly revealed to her quick eye that he had +not only believed in the weariness she had so thoughtlessly expressed, +but had also fathomed its cause. She felt displeased and irritated at her +own want of caution and what she silently termed his presumption. + +"Why do you look on me so strangely?" she asked at length. + +"I beg your pardon, madam," said he, suddenly averting his gaze. + +"Which I shall not give," returned she, with a slight, dignified movement +of her queenly head, "unless you tell me what you think of me." + +"_All_ I think of you, Mrs. Edson," said he, turning his face again +toward hers, "perhaps would not please you to know." + +"Yes, all," said Louise, "I will know all." + +"Well, this is not the time or place for the disclosure," answered he. + +She looked at him sharply as he pronounced these words. He smiled and +added, "I should be monopolizing the time which belongs to your company." + +"Ay, yes!" said she, "your words recall the duty I owe to my +condescending guests;" and, bowing, she glided away and joined a company +that surrounded the piano. + +"You play, of course, Mrs. Edson," said a portly man with a benevolent +countenance. + +"Occasionally, though I have rather a dull ear," she answered, assuming +the music-stool. Several light songs were performed with fine taste and +skill, and received the warmest encomiums of her listeners. Another and +another was called for, till at length she arose and said, "There are +doubtless others here who play far better than myself. I have led the +way, let them follow." + +Col. Malcome arose from a sofa near by, on which he had thrown himself to +listen to the fair musician, and assumed the seat she had vacated. A few +prolonged notes, and then one of the most beautiful and intricate +compositions of Beethoven, poured its sonorous strains on the ears of the +assembly. The performer at length seemed to forget all around him, and at +the end of the second chorus joined his own deep, rich tones with the +instrument. All were delighted; but Louise, with her quick sensibilities, +was thrilled to the centre of her soul. And she felt piqued and angry +too; not that he had excelled her, for she was above such small envy, +but----she could not tell why. + +The party dispersed, and she found herself again in the solitude of her +own apartment. That swelling chorus rolled through her midnight dreams, +and echoed in her ears for many a day, as she superintended her domestic +affairs, or sat down to the perusal of some treasured volume. + + + + + CHAPTER X. + + "I tell thee, husband, 'tis a goodly thing, + To get a daughter married off your hands, + And know she's found an easy-tempered mate; + For many men there be in this rude world. + Who do most shockingly abuse their wives; + But of their number is not this mild youth + Who takes our daughter for his wedded bride." + + +Young Mrs. Edson's party was a three days' wonder. Mrs. Salsify Mumbles, +inasmuch as she was excluded from being one of the guests, availed +herself of the next choicest privilege, and learned, as far as she was +able, the dresses and conversation of those in attendance; and how Mrs. +E. comported herself, and what she cooked for supper. She was shocked to +learn the young wife wore a low-necked dress, and set her down at once as +a low, vulgar woman, in whose company she should consider it a disgrace +to be seen. Mrs. Pimble said another milk-sop had come among them to fawn +and giggle in the face of the oppressor, man. + +The Edson fete seemed to pave the way for others, and the winter season +passed gayly and pleasantly among the wealthier classes of Wimbledon. +Col. Malcome, his daughter, and Rufus, were present at all the social +gatherings; and, in fact, the colonel's was getting to be a familiar and +welcome face at almost every door in the village. He even called on Mrs. +Salsify Mumbles, one day, and addressed several civil speeches to the +interesting Mary Madeline, who blushed crimson beneath the glance of his +_unresistible_ eyes, as she termed them, and trembled like an aspen, in +her red silk gown. We do not know that we have ever spoken of the +personal charms of this blooming young lady, and we will now attempt a +brief daguerreotype for the reader's enlightenment and edification. + +Her hair was of that peculiarly brilliant color noticed in that +delightful esculent vegetable, the carrot, when boiled and prepared for +table. She wore it twisted in a hard, horny knob at the top of her head, +which strained her blue-green eyes, and gave them the expression of those +of a choked grimalkin. Her nose turned divinely upwards; her blubber lips +turned downwards with a grievous, watery expression. Her cheeks were red; +so was her nose; so were her eyes at times, when the horny knob took a +harder twist than usual. She had small, hairy ears, ornamented with +enormous jewels. Her neck was short, and three stubborn warts, of the +size of peas, stuck to its left side. Her waist might have been admired +in the fifteenth century; but it was some nine inches too short by as +many too broad, to elicit the admiration of the gallants of the present +age, who rave, and go distracted about gossamer divinities scarcely six +inches in circumference. She was about four feet four in stature, and her +foot would have crushed Cinderella, and used her slipper for a thumb-cot. +Such was Mary Madeline Mumbles in her eighteenth year, and never was +child more like parent, than was this young lady like her doting, +affectionate mamma. + +We have been at considerable trouble to sketch Miss Mumbles at full +length, that the reader may be able to form a correct idea of her +appearance when she steps forth in full glory of silken bridal attire, on +the arm of Mr. Theophilus Shaw, the promising young shoe-cobbler, upon +whom Mr. Salsify had long since set his heart, as the proper man to +become his future son-in-law. And Miss Mary, who lost her passion for +Dick Giblet, after he shut the watch-dog in the kitchen-pantry,--a trick +which had nearly cost her the loss of a beloved mother,--and finding she +could not captivate the handsome Colonel Malcome with checkered aprons +and broad lace, began, like a dutiful child, to receive the advances of +the mild Theophilus more graciously, and had, after much maidenly +confusion, consented to become his wife, when, as we have seen, the +uncompromising colonel called, and distracted her with fear lest she had +been too precipitate in accepting Theophilus, when a higher prize might +be on the point of falling into her arms. But her apprehensions were +banished after a while, as the colonel did not appear a second time, and +the marriage was finally consummated; and Mary Madeline Mumbles became in +due form Mrs. Theophilus Shaw. Jenny Andrews and Amy Seaton officiated as +bridesmaids, and a large party were invited to make merry on the +occasion. + +The bride's apparel was magnificent; so was the bridegroom's. We would +attempt to describe it in detail, but dare not, knowing well we should +fail to do it justice. Mrs. Salsify had the wicks of her parlor lamps +full half an inch in length, and never seemed to notice how swiftly the +camphene was disappearing, so elate was she with the prospect of marrying +her beautiful daughter. + +The happy couple were to make a short bridal excursion, and then return +and dwell under the bride's parental roof for the present; Mrs. Salsify +having vacated her bed-room, which the young people were going to use for +kitchen, parlor, and shoemaker's shop. And a little pasteboard sign with +the words, "Theophilus Shaw, Boot & Shoe Maker," scrawled on it with +lampblack, in an awkward, school-boy hand, was suspended by a string from +the bed-room window. + +"I am glad to have Mary Madeline settled in life," said Mrs. Mumbles, +after the arrangements were all complete; "and the matter off my mind." + +"So am I," answered her husband; "and I am glad she has made so good a +match, too. Mr. Shaw will make a much better husband than Dick Giblet, or +that black-headed Col. Malcome." + +"O, a better one than that scapegrace of a Dick, of course!" said Mrs. +Salsify, quickly; "but as to a better one than the colonel, I don't know +about that. The advantages of his position are very great. Maddie would +have been the tip-top of Wimbledon if she had married him." + +"So she will be now, in time," returned Mr. S., confidently, "for I am +'rising rapidly in my profession.' Next summer I shall build the piazza +and second story, and in ten years I'd like to see the man that can hold +his head above Mr. Salsify Mumbles." + +At these hopeful words, the wife fondly embraced her husband, and the +loving couple fell to forming plans and projects for their brilliant +future. + + + + + CHAPTER XI. + + And yet this wild woods' man was happy once,-- + Bright fame did offer him her richest dower, + But disappointment blasted all his hopes, + And crushed him 'neath her desolating power. + + +Cold and bleak roared the fierce wintry blasts through the broad, dense +forest that stretched away to the north of Wimbledon. The stars sparkled +with unwonted brilliancy over the clear blue firmament, as a quick step +crackled along the narrow, icy path, and a dark form was seen hurrying +toward a faint light that gleamed dimly through a dense clump of cedars. +Then there was a sound as of bars withdrawn, and a bright, blazing hearth +was revealed for a moment as the dark form entered, when all was hushed +and silent again, save the dismal roar of the night wind through the +surrounding pines. + +"You are late to-night, uncle," said a tall, dark-haired youth, as he +undid the fastenings of the wanderer's long overcoat, and removed his +woollen mittens and wide-brimmed hat. + +"What time do you conceive it to be?" asked the man, depositing his long +staff in a corner, and approaching the glowing fire. + +"Past midnight, I would suppose," answered the boy, piling up a quantity +of books that were scattered over a small table, and with which he had +been occupying himself through the long evening hours. + +"O, not so late as that!" returned the man, drawing a rude chair before +the fire and extending his small, thin hands to the grateful blaze. "The +village clock in the old church tower at Wimbledon was on the stroke of +ten when I laid my bundle of sticks in their accustomed place, and set my +face homewards. I must have travelled at a laggard pace, if it is already +midnight. Are you lonesome when I'm away, Edgar?" inquired he, turning +his deep, melancholy eyes on the fair, open countenance of the youth. + +"Sometimes I am," returned he; "I have been so to-night. A strange power +seemed to possess my thoughts, to lead them through most hideous scenes, +and dark, awful glooms and shadows enveloped my soul in mazes of doubt +and fear." + +"What a nervous boy you are!" said the man, "come and sit beside me, and +I'll tell you of a project I've been revolving in my mind these several +days." Edgar did as requested, and after a brief silence the hermit +commenced: + +"These six months, my lad, you have dwelt in this little hut in the +forest, holding intercourse with no human being save myself. It is not +right your boyhood and youth should pass in this manner. I have been +selfish in keeping you all to myself, to cheer my solitude. 'Twas your +parents' dying wish that you should receive all the advantages of +education and travel. Your life has been, for the most part, spent in the +toil of study, and I knew you needed an interval of relaxation and +retirement to reinvigorate your mental and physical energies. So I +brought you to share the seclusion of my hermitage for a while. Grateful +as has been your presence to me, I should wrong you, and forfeit the +promise given your parents on their deathbeds, if I encouraged or +permitted this retirement for a longer period than is necessary for your +restoration to health and vigor. You know I am your guardian, Edgar. The +fortune left for you by your father was entrusted to my care till you +should attain a suitable age to have it transferred to your own hands, +and ample provisions were made for your education and instruction in the +painter's art. Do you see what I am coming at, Edgar?" he added, pausing +in his discourse, and directing his gaze toward the boy, who sat +listening attentively to his uncle's words. + +"No, Uncle Ralph," answered the lad; "I don't know as I do, unless you +are going to send me away from you to some distant school;" and his voice +trembled as he spoke. + +"Would you dislike to leave me, my boy?" said the hermit, a tear dropping +from his melancholy eye. + +"Ah, that would I!" returned Edgar, "for I have none to care for me in +the wide world, save you." + +"Pshaw, pshaw, boy! don't prate in that way, with your bright, curly +locks," said the man, laying his thin hand softly on the youth's light, +clustering hair. "When these locks are gray, and you have toiled and +labored for fame and honors never gained, or that burned and furrowed the +brow that wore them; when you have engaged in the world's weary strife +and sunk by the wayside worn and disheartened by the contest; when +friends have proved false;"--here the hermit's voice grew deeper and more +vehement--"and when those who professed for you the fondest love turn +coldly away to mock and scorn at your deep devotion, then, then, my boy, +you will exclaim in bitterness, 'there are none to care for me!'" + +He paused, and bowed his face on his hands. Edgar longed to comfort him, +but knew not what to say. + +The night wind roared solemnly without, the fire burned low on the rude +hearth, and the little apartment, but illy protected from the searching +blasts, grew chilly. Still the hermit sat silent, his bowed head resting +between his small, attenuated hands. Edgar rose, brought the long +overcoat and spread it over his shoulders, as a protection from the +increasing cold. Then wrapping a blanket around his own light form, he +stole softly to the window, and turned his gaze upward to the +star-lighted heaven. He dearly loved to sit thus through the hushed +midnight hours, and listen to the deep, heavy roaring of the mighty +winds, as they swept through the surrounding forest, while his soul +seemed borne away on their rushing currents, up and upward till her +pinions brushed the starry palaces of angels and beatified spirits; and +on, and on, with new splendors ever bursting on her ravished vision, till +the elysium of light in the high heaven of heavens poured its bewildering +glories upon her, and her weary wings fluttered to rest at last upon the +bosom of the All-Holy. + +Edgar was possessed of a temperament of the most imaginative order, +deeply imbued with lofty, poetic sentiment, and a tendency to reserve and +melancholy. His father had been an artist, and the sunny skies of Italy +cast their bright glory over his tender years, warming to impassioned +ardor the springs and fountains of his youthful bosom. Very few boys of +his age and acquirements could have endured the seclusion in which he had +dwelt for the last six months; but nothing could have been more consonant +with the reserved, romantic disposition of Edgar; and the prospect of +leaving the wild hut in the forest to go forth among the wide world's +jostling crowds, caused him heart-throbbing pangs. + +After a long silence the hermit roused himself. The room was cold and +dark. + +"Edgar?" said he, in a low, broken voice. + +"I am here," answered the youth, rising, and feeling his way through the +darkness to his uncle's side, "Won't you lie down now? The room is so +cold, and there is no wood within to replenish the fire." + +"Yes, my boy, I will lie down," said the hermit, "but not to sleep; the +ghosts of past joys are with me to-night." + +"Drive them away, uncle!" said the lad soothingly. "I am not disposed to +sleep either. Let us lie down and cover us warm, and then you tell me of +your plans and projects for my future, as you had commenced to do a few +hours ago." + +"No, Edgar, not to-night," answered the recluse. "Your young eyes will +wax heavy with these midnight vigils. You must sleep, my boy, and +to-morrow I will communicate my plans concerning you." + +"As you say, uncle," returned Edgar, preparing to lie down. + +Young, and happily ignorant of the cares and sorrows that distract the +bosoms of maturer years, he was soon asleep. + +The hermit moved to the window, and, after gazing forth some time in +silence, murmured, "Wild, wild is the night! Heaven send she does not +suffer. I left two bundles on her lonely sill, though my fingers grew +stiff with cold ere I had gathered them. Thus do I feebly endeavor to +atone for past misconduct. How the wind roars through the pines! O, what +memories of long ago rush o'er my soul! I think of Mary as the time +approaches when she will be near me. Shall I see her face again? God +forbid!" exclaimed he, stamping his foot violently upon the stone floor. +After a while he resumed his low soliloquy. "I fear for Edgar," he said, +"lest the cold world chill his heart and undo his usefulness, as it has +mine. He has my temperament, reserved, sensitive, and with the same +accursed capacity for strong, undying attachment. What a fair prospect of +fame had I! What honors were ready to crown me when that monster came and +blasted them all! Such do I fear will be Edgar's fate. But he must go +forth into the world; such was the wish of his parents. I can keep him +near me a few months longer by sending him to the Wimbledon seminary, ere +he must depart for some distant university or school of art. Then the +great world will have opened before him, and I shall see him no more." +The hermit suddenly ceased. Tears choked his utterance. + +"Uncle!" said Edgar, starting quickly from his slumbers, "will you not +come and lie down?" + +"Yes, my boy," answered the sorrowing man, approaching the rude couch. + +The wintry winds wailed on with piteous, mournful voices; but the +_Hermit of the Cedars_ slept at last, + + "A troubled, dreamy sleep." + + + + + CHAPTER XII. + + "Lawyers and doctors at your service. + We are better off + Without them. + True, you are,--but still + You follow on their heels, and fawn, + And flatter in their faces. If you + Would leave your brawls and fights which + Call for physic, very soon you'd be + Beyond their greedy clutches." + + OLD PLAY. + + +Reader, do you wonder where's the doctor whose saddle-bags may be +supposed to contain the divers specifics for the "ills" which the "flesh" +of Wimbledon is liable to become heir to? He doth exist, and, when +occasion calls, we'll trot him forth. + +And do you say this same Wimbledon has never a lawyer within its +precincts,--and whoever heard of a village of several hundred inhabitants +without at least half-a-dozen of these learned disciples of Blackstone to +settle its wrongs and right its abuses? + +Permit us to inform you, friend, that we consider lawyers dangerous +animals; and the less men and women have to do with them, the better! + +Nevertheless, there is one o' the craft in Wimbledon; and, if you had not +been blind as a bat, you would have discovered, ere this, the sign of +"Peter Paul Pimble, Esq., Attorney-at-Law," hung over the door of a +small, black building in Mudget square. True, Mr. Pimble don't practise +his profession much, for a very good reason; nobody is in want of his +services; and that's the case with two thirds of the lawyers in +Christendom. + +Mrs. Pimble has converted her husband's office into a committee-room, and +receptacle for hoards of pamphlets and papers, containing the proceedings +of divers conventions held for the advancement of the cause of "Woman's +Rights, and promulgation of Universal Freedom and Philanthropy." + +Mrs. Pimble, the ardent reformist, is at present detained from her labors +by the illness of her eldest son, Garrison. She has sent for the young +female physician, Dr. Sarah Simcoe; but the word is, "pressing business +detains that medical functionary at home,"--so, in direct violation of +her established principles, she has been compelled to send for old Dr. +Potipher, who considers himself, par excellence, the Esculapius of +Wimbledon. + +But Peggy Nonce comes blowing back from her hasty errand, and says the +doctor is down to Mr. Moses Simcoe's. Mrs. Pimble wonders what should +take a vile male practitioner to the house of an accomplished +lady-physician. Peggy looks wise, as much as to say she could explain the +mystery if she chose. But no one asks her to speak, so she goes into the +kitchen, where Mr. Pimble sits in his dressing-gown and sheepskin +slippers, shivering over an expiring fire. He lifts his head, as the +bustling housekeeper begins to rattle the covers of the stove for the +purpose of putting in some more wood, and asks feebly if "Dr. Potipher +has arrived." + +"No," answers Peggy. "He is down to Mr. Simcoe's." + +"Who is sick there?" inquires Mr. Pimble. + +"His wife." + +"Why, she is a doctor herself! Can't she cure her own ailments?" says Mr. +Pimble. + +"Not always, I reckon," is Peggy's reply, while she is evidently vastly +amused by something she does not choose to communicate at present. + +Beside the bed of her sick boy stood Mrs. Pimble. She laid her hand on +his forehead. It burned with fever, and his pulse was quick and hard. She +was not much skilled in the "art medical," but she resolved to do +_something_ for her child, and forthwith proceeded to the kitchen and +compounded a dish of catnip leaves and ginger. It exhaled a savory +smell, and she felt quite confident it would cool off Garrison's fever. +Placing a large bowl of the liquid by his bed-side, she bade him drink +freely of it through the evening, while she was gone to the Reform Club, +and when she came home she would call at Sister Simcoe's and obtain a +prescription for him. The sick lad promised to do as she requested. His +fever inclined him to drink incessantly, and ere his mother was ten +yards from the house, he had guzzled the whole brimming bowlful. And +still he called for drink, drink; which his insensate father carried to +him in copious quantities as often as he desired it. + +Mrs. Pimble proceeded on her way to the club room. For some reason there +was but a thin attendance. None of the prominent members were present, +and the little company decided to adjourn. Mrs. Pimble hurried round to +Mrs. Simcoe's, to learn the cause of her absence and get the prescription +for Garrison. The lady-doctor had been lecturing for several months in +different towns of the county, and was but recently returned. + +Mrs. Pimble entered without knocking, as was her wont, and walked into +the young doctor's office, where she beheld, not the fair, feminine face +of the rightful proprietor, but the ugly, rhubarb-colored visage of the +village apothecary, Dr. Potipher, ensconced in the high-backed cushioned +chair, fast asleep. + +She turned back and opened the sitting-room door, and there stood Mr. +Simcoe before a bed, holding a tea-tray, containing several vials and +glasses. Mrs. Pimble started on seeing the night-capped head of Mrs. +Simcoe raised feebly from the pillow, and darting forward, exclaimed, +"Mercy, Sister Simcoe! what has befallen you?" + +A smothered wail from beneath the bed-clothes now met her ear, and, +turning down the blankets, she discovered two red-faced, bald-headed +babies, wrapped in swaddling-clothes. She started back aghast. + +"What are those things--what are those things?" she demanded, +hysterically, pointing to the infant strangers. + +"Simcoe's children!" groaned the pale lady-doctor, turning uneasily away +from the little things that lay squirming and making such grimaces, as +only very young babies _can_ make, in the face of Mrs. Pimble. The +alleged father stood there, chuckling over the smartness of his progeny. +Mrs. Pimble darted one withering glance upon him, and walked away +without another word. She roused old Dr. Potipher, and took him home +with her. Well she did so, for Garrison was much worse than when she +left him, and the doctor pronounced it a case of brain fever, which +would require the nicest care and nursing. + +Thus a wet blanket was most audaciously thrown upon the Woman's Rights' +Reform, which was fain to arrest its progress in Wimbledon for a while. +We shall see how long. + + + + + CHAPTER XIII. + + "Thy hands are filled with early flowers, + Thy step is on the wind; + The innocent and keen delight + Of youth is on thy mind; + That glad fresh feeling that bestows + Itself the gladness which it knows, + The pure, the undefined; + And thou art in that happy hour + Of feeling's uncurbed, early power." + + +The spring dawned bright and beautiful over Wimbledon, and when the first +blue-birds sang on the budding boughs, and the grass was springing green +in streets and by-ways, the tenants of "Summer Home" returned; and a +bright young girl, with dark abundant hair hanging in a rich profusion of +shiny ringlets over her white, uncovered shoulders, was seen skipping +lightly through the gardens and grounds, pruning shrubs, transplanting +flowers, and training truant vines over arbors and alcoves. + +It was Florence Howard, resplendent in the light of her girlish beauty, +and buoyant overflow of health and happiness. Often, in her morning +strolls, she noticed a tall, graceful boy, in a blue frock-coat, with a +shining morocco cap placed over a head of light curly hair, passing +along, satchel in hand, to the seminary on the hill, and every night she +saw him disappear within the forest that lay to the northward of her +father's residence. + +She wondered what became of him, for the woods were wide and deep, and it +must be a long way to the other side. There surely could be no habitation +within their precincts, and Florence's curiosity was strongly excited to +fathom the mystery, which in her eyes surrounded the fair-haired youth. + +"Father," said she one evening, as she sat beside him on the western +terrace, "I don't like being confined herewith these stupid tutors. I +wish you would let me go to school at the seminary." + +"Your advantages at home are far superior, my daughter," answered her +father. + +"O, but I should like the air and exercise, and the company of children +of my own age so much," pursued she, poking her little fingers through +her father's silvered locks, and leaning up against his side in a very +coaxing attitude. "I shall become the saddest mope in the world if I am +cooped up here." + +"I apprehend small danger of that," returned her father, laughing, "for +you have appeared to me, since our last return, a wilder romp than ever +before." + +"O, that's only because I'm so glad to get to this delightful place +again, and to know we are to go away no more!" said she. "It will wear +off after a while, and I shall become silent and solemn as a nun. Won't +you let me go to the seminary just one term? I can still take my music +lessons of Mrs. Sayles here at home, and I know my French and Italian +masters would like a respite from their duties." She stood looking +earnestly in her father's face. + +"You smooth the way very well, my little daughter," said he, patting her +rosy cheek; "but I incline to think you had better continue your studies +in the old way." + +Florence looked disappointed, and turned slowly from his side. Her +dejected appearance touched his affectionate heart, and he called her +back. She came bounding toward him, with new hope dancing in her dark +liquid eyes. + +"If you can obtain your mother's consent," said he, "I will not object to +your attending school at the seminary one term, as you seem so much to +desire it." + +"O, thank you, thank you, dear father!" exclaimed the glad girl, putting +her arms round his neck, and giving him a grateful kiss on either cheek, +"and may I commence to-morrow? that is, if mamma consents to my going?" + +"To-morrow?" said he, "had you not better wait, as this term is so far +advanced, and commence with a new one?" + +"O, no!" returned she, "I should rather begin at once." + +"Well, go in, little Miss Rattle, and see what your sage mamma says on +the subject," said her father, smiling at her earnest countenance. + +Away went Florence, with the lightness of a bird up the hall stairs, and, +giving a light tap at a closed door, stood dancing softly on tip-toe, as +she waited a summons to enter. "Who's there?" asked a low, trembling +voice at length. + +"Me, mamma," answered Florence; "may I come in? I've something to ask +you." + +The door was opened by a short, thin woman, of dark complexion, small +peering black eyes, and slick, shining hair of the same hue, which was +arranged with an air of nicety and precision. + +Florence entered and glanced with an expression of alarm toward the drawn +curtains of a mahogany bedstead. "Is mother worse?" she asked in a voice +but a breath above a whisper. + +"She has had one of her bleeding spells," answered the small, dark woman. +"Where is your father?" + +"On the lower terrace; shall I call him?" + +"No, I will go to him," returned the woman, "if you will remain by your +mother a while." + +"O, yes, I shall be delighted to stay!" said Florence, approaching the +couch. + +"You must not talk to her," remarked the woman; "she needs to be very +quiet." + +"I won't speak a word unless she asks me to," answered the young girl, +sitting down by the bed-side, as the dark woman disappeared, closing the +door softly behind her. + +After a few moments' silence the sick woman stirred and parted the +curtains slightly with her wan hand. Florence rose. "Do you want +anything, mother?" she asked. + +"No, my dear, I have been asleep. Where is Hannah?" + +"Gone below. I think to send father for Dr. Potipher." + +"I hope not," said the invalid; "it is not necessary. This is only one of +my common attacks. I shall be as well as usual in a few days." + +"Do you think so, mother?" asked Florence, brightening. "I feared you +were very ill. I had something particular to say, but I was not going to +say it, for fear of hurting you." + +"What is it, dear?" inquired the mother. + +"Something papa and I have been talking about down on the piazza +to-night." + +"Well," said the sick woman, looking affectionately on the earnest +expression and downcast lids of Florence's large hazel eyes. + +"I asked him to let me go to the seminary this term, and he said if you +had no objection I might do so," said the hesitating girl, at length, +with a long-drawn breath, as though she had relieved her bosom of a heavy +burden. + +The pale lady was silent a few moments, as if revolving the matter in her +mind. Then she spoke suddenly. "You said your father had no objection?" + +"Yes," answered Florence. + +"Then, of course, I have none," said the woman, turning over on her +pillow and settling herself as if to sleep again. + +Florence was about to pour forth her gratitude for the favor shown her +request, when the dark-browed woman entered, shook her finger at her, and +bade her go below. Florence's eyes flashed back her answer. + +"I'll go at my mother's request, not otherwise," said she. + +A dark frown gathered on the woman's features, and the invalid said +tremblingly, "I would like to sleep; perhaps you had better go and stay +with your father a while, my dear." + +Florence kissed the pale brow, and then moved toward the door with +noiseless tread. The dark woman cast a glance of angry triumph upon her, +which was returned by one of fearless defiance. + +Since Florence's earliest recollection her mother had been an invalid, +shunning society and subject to long fits of depression, and, upon the +slightest excitement, to severe attacks of palpitation and bleeding from +the chest, which frequently prostrated her on a bed of suffering for +weeks. Hannah Doliver had always been her attendant, though Florence, in +the simplicity of her young heart, often wondered that her parents should +retain her in their service; for she was a bold, impudent, +violent-tempered woman, who set up her will for law in the household, and +seemed to exercise an almost tyrannic sway over the weak invalid, who +appeared to stand in awe of her slightest nod. She showed a marked +dislike for Florence, and delighted in tantalizing her, when she was a +little child, and thwarting her wishes. As the fair girl grew older, she +resolved the arbitrary woman should not govern or intimidate her, and met +all her attempts at petty tyranny with a bold, undaunted spirit, which +seemed to increase the woman's hatred. Florence once asked her father why +he did not send Hannah Doliver away. + +"Your mother could not do without her, my child," said he. + +"I think she could do better without her than with her," returned +Florence, "for she is cross to mamma, and makes her do everything just as +she says." + +"O, no, I guess not," said her father. + +"But she does," persisted Florence, "and I would not have her in the +house." Major Howard patted his little daughter's cheek and said, "When +you are older, Florence, you will understand a great many things that +seem dark and mysterious to you now." + +Florence was not satisfied, but she turned away, and never mentioned the +subject to her father again. + +Early the next morning the glad-hearted girl was astir, getting in +readiness for school. She gathered her books together and placed them in +a satchel of crimson broadcloth, which she had just embroidered, with +bright German wools, in wreaths of spotted daisies and wild columbines. +Then donning a blue muslin frock, dotted over with small silver stars, +and tying on a black silk apron with open velvet pockets, from one of +which peeped a snowy lace-edged handkerchief, she took satchel, gloves +and gypsy hat, and descended to the parlor, ensconcing herself in a nook +of the north window, where she stood gazing over the hill-tops toward the +distant forest with eager eyes to behold the fair-haired boy emerge from +its recesses. + +At length he appeared, and she watched him till he was descending the +hill which sloped past her father's mansion. Then, hastily tying on her +hat and seizing her satchel, she was hurrying through the hall to gain +the street, when she encountered Hannah Doliver. + +"Where are you going?" demanded she in a sharp tone. + +"To school," answered Florence, rushing past her. + +"By whose leave, I wonder?" said the woman, running after her, to drag +her back. But the nimble-footed girl was too swift for her, and she +returned to the house muttering angrily to herself. Meantime, Florence +bounded over the gravelled walks, and was emerging from the gateway just +as the lad, in the morocco cap, was passing by. He arrested his steps on +beholding her, and bowed gracefully. She returned his salute, and said, +blushingly, "I am going to school up to the seminary. May I walk with +you?" + +"Certainly, Miss Howard," answered he; "I shall be grateful for your +company." + +"You know my name," said she, advancing to his side; "I am ignorant of +yours." + +"Edgar Lindenwood," returned he, and the two walked on together. + + + + + CHAPTER XIV. + + ----"She has dark violet eyes, + A voice as soft as moonlight. On her cheek + The blushing blood miraculous doth range + From sea-shell pink to sunset. When she speaks + Her soul is shining through her earnest face + As shines a moon through its up-swathing cloud. + My tongue's a very beggar in her praise, + It cannot gild her gold with all its words." + + ALEXANDER SMITH. + + +There was a neat, little vine-covered cottage standing a few doors +removed from the elegant mansion of Leroy Edson, and in it dwelt Mrs. +Stanhope, a widow lady and her maiden sister, Miss Martha Pinkerton, +a female of uncertain age, as authors say, and possessed of the +peculiarities common to persons of her class. They were not poor, nor +were they rich, but made a good living, as the world goes, by taking in +needlework. Young Mrs. Edson frequently dropped in to pass an hour in +social converse with Mrs. Stanhope, who was a pleasant, agreeable woman. +Miss Martha, too, always wore a smile on her sharp-featured face when +the lovely young wife appeared at the cottage. As they were simple, +unostentatious people, living in a retired and quiet way, she laid aside +all form and ceremony, and was accustomed to run in at any hour, in +whatever garb she chanced to be. + +On a bright May morning, as the ladies had made all things tidy, and were +seating themselves to their daily avocation of the needle, they heard +the garden gate swing, and beheld Mrs. Edson approaching in her little +white sun-bonnet and spotted muslin dressing-gown, open from the waist +downwards, revealing a fine cambric skirt, wrought in several rows of +vines and deep scolloped edges. Mrs. Stanhope met her visitor on the +porch. + +"Good-morning," said she, extending her hand; "I am happy to see +you:--how beautiful and eloquent you are looking!" + +"O, this glorious, sweet-breathed morning, with its birds and flowers, +is enough to brighten the most torpid thing into animation!" exclaimed +Louise, grasping her friend's hand warmly. "You don't know how I love +everything and everybody to-day, Mrs. Stanhope," she continued, in a +tone of earnest enthusiasm, as she entered the little parlor, still +holding the good woman by one hand, while she extended the other to +Miss Pinkerton, who rose from her work to receive her, and drew an +old-fashioned, straight-backed rocking-chair, cushioned and lined with +gay copperplate, up before the window for her comfort. "I must not sit +long," said Louise, assuming the proffered seat, "for I have left my +house quite alone; the servants having gone out on errands for +themselves. I tried one thing and another to divert myself, but the +birds sang so sweetly, the sun was so bright, and everything seemed to +say, up and away. So I donned my sun-bonnet and ran over here as the +nicest, quietest little nook I could fly to; and where I should be as +welcome in my morning-gown as in full dress of ruffles and satins." + +"And even more so, if possible," answered Mrs. Stanhope; "simple people +like us are always a good deal put out and embarrassed by grandeur and +display. It has something awful and unapproachable in our eyes." + +"It has something servile and contemptible in mine," said Louise; "I +always shrink from a woman flaunted out in rustling silks, great, +glaring rings on her fingers, and alarming jewels swinging like +ponderous pendulums from her ears. I think what a poor, little, pinched, +narrow-contracted, poverty-stricken soul is there, that seeks to atone +for the lack within, by rigging her poor body out like a veritable queen +of harlots." + +Mrs. Stanhope and Miss Martha burst into a cordial fit of laughter, as +Louise, with a good deal of spirit and sarcasm, delivered herself of the +preceding speech; and, before their merriment had subsided, a knock was +heard at the inner door, and Col. Malcome stepped in, bowing gracefully, +with a pleasant "Good-morning" to the three ladies. Mrs. Stanhope rose +and offered him a chair. Depositing a large package he held in his arms +on a corner of the sofa, he sat down. + +Mrs. Edson blushed. She thought it was at being caught from home in +dishabille by a gentleman of the colonel's etiquette and high breeding. +After a few casual remarks upon the beauty of the morning, he turned his +discourse to her, and remarked: + +"I am happy to meet you, Mrs. Edson; we are getting to be quite strangers +of late. Edith is lamenting that you do not honor us with more frequent +visits." + +"I have often wished to call on your family, Col. Malcome," returned +Louise, in a calm, clear voice; "but since your daughter commenced +attending school, have desisted, lest I might inconvenience her." + +"Edith does not go to the seminary after two o'clock," said he; "her +evenings are quite unemployed, and she would be highly gratified to +receive a call from you." + +"I shall be pleased to call on her, and also to receive more frequent +visits from her. She has less to confine her at home than I; so her +visits should outnumber mine." + +"Ay, yes; you speak sensibly, Mrs. Edson," returned he; "you have more +calls on your time than Edith. Strange I can never remember you are a +married woman." + +"It would be well for you to remember it," said Louise, with a dignified +curve of her graceful neck, and slight addition of color, which very much +heightened her beauty. + +"Mrs. Edson is so youthful in appearance," remarked Mrs. Stanhope, "I +think she might excuse one for forgetting she is a matron." + +"I'll excuse you, Mrs. Stanhope," said Louise, rising; "I don't want to +be anything to you, but your little girl, and to run in here just when I +have a mind to, and to have you chide me when I do wrong, and love me +always, whether right or wrong. So good-morning," and, curtseying +gracefully, she glided from the room and retraced her steps to her own +mansion. + +There was a silence of several minutes after she left, during which Col. +Malcome recollected his package, and, placing it on the table, politely +inquired if the ladies could oblige him by sewing a quantity of linen, of +which he should be in need in course of a few weeks, as he meditated +going a journey. They would be very willing to do it for him, could they +get it in readiness by the time he would want it; but they had a great +deal of unfinished work on their hands. Miss Pinkerton was confident they +could accomplish the colonel's, however. + +"I am doubtful, Martha," said Mrs. Stanhope; "you know the large bundle +Mrs. Howard's waiting-woman brought in, last night." + +"O, that can easily be put by," returned Martha. + +"But Hannah said the major wanted it in a month at longest." + +"Pshaw! that's a phrase of her own making. It sounds just like Hannah +Doliver's impertinent manner of expressing herself." + +Col. Malcome gave a sudden start as Miss Pinkerton carelessly uttered +these words. + +"What did you say was the name of Mrs. Howard's woman?" he demanded, with +an eagerness that astonished his hearers. + +"Hannah Doliver," repeated Miss Martha; "do you know her?" + +"No," said he, suddenly assuming an appearance of composure; "that is, I +think not; but I have frequently heard the name of Doliver before. How +long has she lived with Major Howard?" + +"A great many years, I believe," answered Martha. "People hereabouts +wonder at their keeping the ill-tempered, arbitrary hussy. They say she +rules the whole house save Miss Florence." + +"Ay; the young lady must have a spirit, then, I should judge, if she +defies such a virago as you describe this woman to be." + +"No more spirit than she should have," returned Miss Pinkerton. "A sweet, +beautiful girl is Florence Howard as ever the sun shone upon." + +"Ay, yes, indeed," interposed Mrs. Stanhope; "she used to call on us last +summer, when her embroidery teacher was away, to get Martha to assist her +in her tambour work; and I declare, I thought her the most lovable +creature I ever saw." + +"I am told these Howards do not mingle much in society," remarked the +colonel carelessly. + +"No," returned Mrs. S., "Mrs. Howard never goes out. She is a confirmed +invalid, and her disease inclines her to quiet and solitude. I don't +believe there's a woman in the village who has seen her in all the +seasons the family have passed at Summer Home." + +"O, yes!" said Miss Martha. "Dilly Danforth, the washerwoman, saw her +once. When she was there a year ago this spring, putting the house to +rights, she cleaned the paint and windows of Mrs. Howard's room, and thus +got a sight at the invalid. She told me she was a pale, thin woman, with +a distressed expression of countenance. Her hair was nearly white, and +she looked much older than her husband." + +Col. Malcome stood before a window with his back toward the ladies, +listening intently to their words. + +"I have understood that Miss Florence is attending school at the seminary +this term," remarked Mrs. Stanhope, at length; "do you know if it is so, +Col. Malcome?" + +"I think I heard Edith and Rufus say something to that effect," answered +he. + +"I hope she will drop in and see us some day," said Miss Pinkerton. "She +and Mrs. Edson are great favorites of mine, and I doubt not your pretty +daughter would become one also, if I should get acquainted with her. We +are but humble people, but should be very happy to receive a call from +Miss Edith." + +"Thank you," said the colonel; "'tis very possible she may some time +visit you, though she is rather timid and inclined to shrink from +strangers. Well, ladies, shall I leave my work?" he added, laying his +white hand on the package as he stepped toward the door. + +"Yes," answered Miss Martha; "I will engage to have it ready in season +for you." + +He bowed and withdrew. Miss Pinkerton peeped through the curtain, as he +walked down the garden path, and thought she had never beheld so handsome +and elegant a specimen of the genus homo. + + + + + CHAPTER XV. + + "O, loveliest time! O, happiest day! + When the heart is unconscious, and knows not its sway; + When the favorite bird, or the earliest flower, + Or the crouching fawn's eyes make the joy of the hour, + And the spirits and steps are as light as the sleep + Which never has wakened to watch or to weep. + She bounds on the soft grass,--half woman, half child, + As gay as her antelope, almost as wild. + The bloom of her cheek is like that on her years. + She has never known pain--she has never known tears; + And thought has no grief, and no fear to impart; + The shadow of Eden is yet on her heart." + + L. E. L. + + +"Father!" said Florence Howard, the second day of her first vacation, +"had I not better study Latin next term?" + +"Latin!" answered he in a tone of surprise, "why should you study that?" + +"O, for discipline to my mind," returned Florence. + +"I think you will find the acquirement of French and Italian sufficient +discipline," said he. + +"O, but they are so easily learned! I want something more +difficult--something I have to study hard on." + +"Why, you would be running to me to get your lessons for you half the +time!" said her father, laughing. + +"No, I wouldn't," answered she, shaking her curly head cunningly. "Edgar +would assist me." + +"Edgar! and who is he?" inquired Major Howard. + +"Why, Edgar Lindenwood! You know him," returned she. + +"No, certainly I don't know anything about him," said her father. + +"Why, you have seen the tall boy with the morocco cap and light curls, +that used to walk to school with me last term!" said Florence, looking +earnestly in his face. + +"O, yes! I have seen him frequently," returned Major H. "What do you say +is his name?" + +"Edgar Lindenwood." + +"And where does he live?" + +"With his uncle." + +"And who is his uncle?" + +"The Hermit of the Cedars." + +"Ha, ha, ha!" laughed Major Howard. "And so, this young hermit is going +to teach you Latin, Miss Florence? Romantic, upon my word!" + +"Edgar is not a hermit!" said Florence, pouting her red lips and assuming +an air of dignity which vastly amused her father. "He is brave, +and bright, and handsome, and, our preceptor says, already a finer +scholar than many a graduate from the university." + +"Well, well; I cannot argue the merits of this favorite of yours, +Florence," said her father; "but I promise to give him a larger share of +my attention henceforth." + +"I wish you would, father," said Florence. "I may bring him home with me +from school some day,--may I not?" + +"No!" returned Major Howard. "I can notice him in the street." + +"But you cannot judge of him so far off," pursued Florence. "He looks +better the nearer you approach him." + +"I shall judge him best at a distance," remarked her father, moving +away. + +Florence did not exactly like the tone of voice in which he uttered +these last words; but she soon forgot all else in the contemplation of +studying Latin, and having Edgar's assistance in learning her lessons. +She had never in her life taken any note of time,--never felt it lag +heavily on her hands; but it appeared to her now that these interminable +days of vacation would never come to an end. She passed one of them with +Edith and Rufus Malcome, and this was by far the most insupportable of +any. "She loved Edith dearly," she said; "but could not endure the +childish prattle and frivolity of Rufus." + +He was six months older than Florence, and Edith had seen seventeen +summers, while Florence was only in her fifteenth; but she was so well +matured in manners and appearance as to seem the senior of the delicate, +retiring Edith. + +Col. Malcome paid her many courteous attentions during her visit, and +expressed an ardent hope that a friendship and intimacy might spring up +between her and his daughter. + +Florence said she should be delighted to form a companionship with +Edith. + +"We are located so near the seminary," said Col. Malcome, as she was +preparing to return home, and Rufus stood waiting to accompany her; +"while your father's mansion is so distant, that it will be very +convenient for you, on rough days, to come and pass the night with +Edith. Indeed, I should be highly gratified if you would make my house a +sort of second home, and come in, familiarly, every day, if you choose." + +Florence thanked him for his kindness, kissed Edith, and descended to +the street in company with Rufus. + +Col. Malcome approached the window and regarded the couple earnestly +till they passed beyond his view, while strange, dark, commingled +expressions passed over his face. Edith crept up to him and said softly, +"What troubles you, father?" + +He looked down sternly on her sweet, upturned face, and said in a tone +of strong command: + +"Edith, I desire you to cultivate the acquaintance of Florence Howard by +every means in your power." + +"I shall be glad to do so, father," answered she, with a look and tone +which deprecated his sternness. + +"'Tis well, then," said he, relaxing his brow and imprinting a kiss on +her soft cheek as he turned away and stepped forth upon the piazza. The +full moon was just rising in the east; the river rippled sweetly in the +distance, and the whippoorwills piped their sharp, shrill notes on the +hushed evening air. Suddenly he heard the garden-gate unclose, and, +turning, beheld Mrs. Edson and her husband approaching. Descending the +marble steps, he met them in the avenue, and, after a cordial +interchange of salutations, ushered them into the gas-lighted +drawing-room, where Edith, in a gossamer-like muslin, reclined on a +velvet ottoman. + +The evening passed pleasantly to all but Mr. Edson, who sat like a +pantomime in a play, staring and grinning at what he could not +understand or digest. Col. Malcome seemed, however, to take a malicious +pleasure in placing his guest in the most awkward positions, and showing +off his own superior grace and polish to the best advantage. If +anything, he rather overdone. But perhaps he thought with Mrs. Salsify +Mumbles in this case, "Better overshoot than fall short." Louise was +graceful and self-possessed as usual; and it must be confessed did not +appear very much disconcerted when Col. M. showed her husband in some +ridiculous light, or mercilessly uncurtained his crude, narrow-minded +opinions and ideas. + +Scorn and contempt for the man she had married were fast mastering all +kinder feelings she once had toward him. + + + + + CHAPTER XVI. + + "I bid you leave the girl, and think no more + About her from henceforth." + + "Ah, I can leave + Her, sire;--but to forget will be, I fear, + A thing beyond my power." + + +It was midsummer, and the Hermit of the Cedars sat under his low piazza, +curiously constructed of the enwreathed boughs and branches of evergreen +trees. He held a volume in his attenuated hand, with the contents of +which, he seemed intently occupied. His appearance was melancholy in the +extreme. A pale, thin face;--deep sunken eyes, and a broad, high brow, +by sorrow seamed with furrows long and wide; for she doth ever dig with +deeper, harsher hand than time. A loose linen garment was wrapped around +his tall, gaunt form, and a white handkerchief tied over his head to +prevent the passing breezes from blowing his thin, straggling gray hair +about his features. + +So intent was he on the contents of his book that he did not notice the +approach of the cheerer of his solitude. Edgar came along the narrow +path with a step quicker and more impatient than was his wont, and there +was an expression on his fine, manly face which had something of +mortification and anger, but more of regret and sorrow. He threw his +satchel on the ground, and sat down at the hermit's feet, who laid aside +his volume, on beholding him in that position, and asked him if he was +fatigued or ill. + +"No," said the youth, "but I shall be glad when I am gone away from here +to the university." + +"Ah!" returned the hermit, "it is as I knew it would be when I placed +you at the seminary. Your desire for fame and honor has returned, and +you long to go forth in the great world and mingle in its +st[illegible]." + +"No," said Edgar, "I would rather live and die within the walls of this +hermitage, than ever go beyond them again; but I'm resolved I will not +do the foolish thing. I'll go forth, and if my life is spared, show +those who call me a foundling, and a wild cub of the woods, that I am +something more than they suppose me to be." + +"Who has dared apply such epithets to you, my boy?" exclaimed the +hermit, his pale cheeks glowing with anger. + +"Do you know Major Howard of 'Summer Home?'" asked Edgar. + +"That do I," answered the hermit; "and did he call you by these names?" + +"Yes," returned Edgar. + +"_He_ talk of foundlings!" said the hermit. "Why did you not slap him in +the face, Edgar?" + +"The words did not come directly from him to me," said the youth, +wondering at his uncle's anger, which far exceeded his own. + +"Ay, through a third person you obtained them? and that was"---- + +"His daughter, Florence Howard." + +"Florence Howard!" repeated his uncle, "and what do you know of her?" + +"I have been to school with her four or five months, and have assisted +her in her Latin studies this summer," returned Edgar. + +"And shall never behold her face again!" said the hermit, in a tone of +angry vehemence, bringing his heavy sandalled foot down upon the wooden +sill with a violence that made Edgar start from his lounging posture on +the turf, and gaze with amazement upon the fierce workings of a face he +had never seen flushed by an angry emotion before. He feared his uncle +had suddenly gone mad, and stood indeterminate what course to pursue, +when the countenance before him changed, the eyes closed, and the hermit +fell heavily on the green sward in front of his door. Edgar, in his +alarm, lifted the prostrate form in his strong, young arms, and bore him +to the low, rough couch, which was their nightly resting-place. Then, +taking a bottle from a [illegible] shelf above the huge, black +fire-place, he poured its contents in a cup, and bathed the temples of +the deathly-looking face till the eyes opened with recognition, and the +lips moved, though inaudibly. + +He watched by the bed-side several hours, and at length the hermit rose +suddenly to his feet, and bade Edgar retire. He obeyed, and closed his +eyes, but not to sleep. Opening them after a while, he beheld his uncle +sitting before the table engaged in writing. Again the lids closed, and +he fell into a light drowse, during which Florence Howard flitted before +him in countless variety of forms. When again he looked around he was +alone. The long summer twilight had deepened into evening, and Edgar +rose and lighted a lamp. On the table he discovered a small, folded +billet, addressed to him. He sank on his knees, opened it, and read. +Various were the expressions that flitted over his features as he did +so. When he had finished he refolded it carefully, and, drawing a bunch +of keys from his pocket, unlocked a small box which sat on the table, +placed the letter within, then relocked it and returned the keys to his +pocket. + +Then he extinguished the lamp and sat down in the window-nook to his +watch of the stars. + +But his thoughts were different from what they once were when he gazed +on their glistening faces. + +His soul-pinions had kissed the earth, and become fouled by contact with +a grosser element; and heavy with a weltering weight of woe, that they +could not soar aloft and hover over the casements of angelic homes, to +rest at last on the glory-bright hills of heaven. + + + + + CHAPTER XVII. + + "I only know their dream was vain, + And that they woke to find it past, + And when by chance they met again, + It was not as they parted last. + His was not faith that lightly dies; + For truth and love as clearly shone + In the blue heaven of his soft eyes + As the dark midnight of her own. + And therefore heaven alone can tell + What are his living visions now, + But hers--the eye can read too well + The language written on her brow." + + PHEBE CAREY. + + +The yearly examination and exhibition of Cedar Hill Seminary was +approaching, and teachers and pupils were busied with preparations in +order to pass the ordeal creditably to themselves and to the +institution. + +Prominent among the list of performers stood the name of Edgar +Lindenwood, often in juxtaposition with that of Florence Howard. Since +the scene in the hermit's hut, Edgar, as commanded by his uncle, had +studiously avoided Florence, and she, for a still longer period, had +evinced a certain distance and reserve toward him. Edgar's knowledge of +her father's dislike might be sufficient cause to part him from her, but +it could by no means justify his growing intercourse with Edith Malcome. + +As the time approached for the exhibition, Florence asked her father's +permission to absent herself entirely and remain at home. Maj. Howard +thought she had better attend, as she had been to school several terms; +but she said she felt too languid to take part in the exercises, and +thus obtained the excuse of her indulgent father. + +Edgar's quick, impassioned nature regarded her absence as a direct +insult to himself, for in all the parts assigned her, she would be +brought on the stage in company with him, and frequently obliged to hold +single converse. If this opinion needed further confirmation it was +added, when she appeared at the Scholars' Levee, held on the evening of +the exhibition, in elegant dress and dashing spirits, with Rufus Malcome +for a partner. + +They passed each other in the dance without a token of recognition. +Edgar attached himself to Edith for the larger part of the evening. +After the first two or three cotillons he did not care to join them; and +Edith, being too delicate to bear the excitement, they roamed through +the hall, conversing together of the events of the exhibition, or +mingling among groups of the village people who had assembled by +invitation to partake in the festive scene. + +"Ha, my little fairy!" whispered Mrs. Edson in the ear of Edith, as she +was sauntering past on the arm of Lindenwood, unmindful of her friend's +proximity; "are you so far skyward you can't see poor Louise? Introduce +me to your princely gallant, an' it please you." + +Edith turned and presented Edgar to Mrs. Edson, who instantly found them +a place in the group around her. + +"This scene brings vividly before me my happy school days," she +remarked, tears welling up to her beautiful eyes, which she dashed +hurriedly away, exclaiming, "but I must not begin to prose about myself +when I was young, lest I drive you all away by my tedious recitals." + +"Mr. Lindenwood," said she, turning to Edgar, "though we have never met +before, your vivid personations on the stage to-day have caused you to +seem more like an old friend than a comparative stranger." + +Edgar expressed his pleasure that his poor performances had met her +approbation, and also that she condescended to recognize him as a +friend. + +"What a graceful creature is Florence Howard!" continued Mrs. Edson, as +the fair girl whirled past her in the dance. "Edith, your brother should +consider himself most fortunate in securing the most brilliant lady in +the room for a partner; no disparagement to your charms, my dear," she +added, leaning over and bestowing a kiss on the soft cheek of the +blushing girl. "You know what I think of you, darling. The spirit of +beauty is everywhere, says the poet. She assumes the largest variety of +types and forms, and, verily, she has given her most dangerous one to +Florence Howard. She is the brilliant dahlia, the pride of the gay +parterre; but my Edith is the modest daisy blooming in some sheltered +nook. The stormy winds shall rend the one from its lofty stalk and +scatter its wealth of purple leaves o'er the miry earth, while dews and +sunbeams kiss the modest plant that blooms in the lowly vale. Is it not +so, Mr. Lindenwood?" she asked, as, pausing, she encountered his gaze +fixed earnestly on her face. + +"I don't know," he said; "that is, I have not considered the subject. +Edith, I think the party are retiring," he added, turning his eyes to +several disjointed groups; "remain with Mrs. Edson a few moments and I +will return to you." + +As he entered the ladies' dressing room, he saw Florence standing alone +by the window, in the very spot where they had often stood in the +interim of recitations, and studied their lessons from the same book. He +thought he would give the world to know she was thinking of those times +now. Approaching softly he stood near her in silence a few moments. + +"O, Florence!" said he, at length, in a low, deep tone, tremulous with +intense feeling and tenderness. Was there not enough of passionate +devotion breathed in that one word to convince her of his eternal, +unchanging affection? + +What poor, weak simpletons are we, to pine and languish for words, where +looks and tones are infinitely more expressive! Some people affirm that +"actions speak louder than words." But we can't say much in favor of +those, because, as far as we know, people in love invariably act like +fools. + +Florence turned at Edgar's adjuration, and he saw, by the moonlight, two +great tear-drops dimming her starry eyes. He was about to extend his +hand when Rufus Malcome rushed into the room, calling her name. Changing +his purpose, he said, in a light conventional tone, "Have you been happy +to night?" + +"O, very!" answered she, with a gay laugh, which echoed in his ear long +after she had taken the arm of Rufus and tripped lightly away. + +When Edgar returned to Edith, he found Col. Malcome in lively +conversation with Mrs. Edson. Florence and Rufus had disappeared, and +Edith signifying her wish to retire, he led her from the hall and +escorted her home. He found Florence in Col. Malcome's parlor sitting on +a sofa with Rufus at her side. + +"Come in, Lindenwood," said he; "here's room for us all." + +"Thank you," returned Edgar. "I have a long walk before me, and must not +tarry." + +"O, stay with us to night," said Rufus. + +"We should be pleased to have you remain, if agreeable," remarked Edith, +timidly. + +"It would be very agreeable," said Edgar, politely, "but my absence +would alarm my uncle." + +"O, he wants to be off to his hermitage!" laughed Rufus, coarsely; "let +him go. You will stay, won't you, Florence?" + +"If Edith invites me," returned she. + +"Well, I do," said Edith quickly. + +"Then the point is settled," remarked Florence. + +"Good-night to you all," said Edgar, moving hastily toward the door. + +Scarce ten minutes had elapsed, after his departure, when Florence rose +and said, "Now I am going." + +"Why, you just promised to remain all night," said Rufus, in a tone of +undisguised disappointment. + +"No," said she; "I made no promise, and I am going." + +"Then I'll go with you," returned Rufus, seizing his hat. + +"No," said Col. Malcome, suddenly entering the apartment. "With Miss +Howard's consent, I'll be her escort home to-night." + +Florence said she should be honored by his company. So bidding +good-night to Edith and Rufus, she took his proffered arm and descended +to the street. + +"How have you enjoyed the ball to-night?" inquired he, as they walked on +together. + +"Very well," answered she, briefly. + +"This young Lindenwood, that burrows with the strange chap they call the +'Hermit of the Cedars;' you are acquainted with him, I believe." + +"He has attended school at the seminary, since I commenced to go," +answered Florence, as calmly as she was able. + +"He has been paying Edith some attentions of late," continued the +colonel, in a careless tone; "do you suppose he really cares for her?" + +"I don't know," answered Florence; and her voice trembled in spite of +her efforts to steady it. + +"Of course you don't know," the colonel went on, still in that cold, +indifferent tone; "I merely asked what you thought?" + +"I never thought anything about it in my life," said Florence, in a +choking voice. + +"That's rather strange," returned he. "I have thought of it several +times lately;--but here we are at your father's gate. Present my +regards, and say I would be happy to receive a call from him whenever he +is so disposed." + +Florence bowed good-evening to her gallant, and hurried to her own +apartment. + +The night was warm. A waning moon lighted the eastern terrace, and, not +feeling disposed to sleep, she stepped through a window that opened to +the floor, and, leaning against a pillar, stood silently gazing over the +gardens and grounds below. + +She had not been standing long thus when she beheld the figure of a man +moving slowly along the gravelled walks, pausing frequently and fixing +an earnest gaze on the windows of the apartment occupied by her mother. +She grew alarmed, and was about descending the stairs to arouse her +father, when she heard the hall door open softly, and saw the figure of +a woman stealing down the garden path. She recognized the dark form +instantly as that of Hannah Doliver. The man met her and the two went +into a green-house. After an hour the woman reappeared, and retraced her +steps to the mansion, but the man she saw no more. Securing her windows, +Florence retired, resolving to impart to her father a history of what +she had seen. + +When, she did so, he only laughed at her and said he supposed it was +some enamored knight come to pay his devoirs to the fair lady of his +love, and counselled her to say no more of the matter, as it would +needlessly irritate Hannah to know her secret was discovered. + + + + + CHAPTER XVIII. + + "The world hath used me well, and now at length + In peace and quietness I sit me down + To feed upon the fruits of my hard toils. + Ambition doth no more distract my breast,-- + I've reached the height my spirit strove to gain; + Here will I rest, and watch life glide away." + + +It is quite time for us to call on Mrs. Salsify Mumbles again. We fear +the good lady, who is rather sensitive on such points, has felt +neglected ere this; but we hope not, and, as her mansion heaves in view, +we are convinced that matters of more importance than visits from our +humble selves, have engaged our old friend's attention. + +The second story has actually gone up, and the piazza spreads its white +palings along the sides of Mr. Salsify's dwelling. The pasteboard sign +of "Mr. Theophilus Shaw, Boot & Shoe Maker," is no longer seen swinging +from the bed-room window, but a new sign stretches its sublime length +over the doors of Mr. Salsify's old grocery, announcing, in staring +black and yellow, to the inhabitants of Wimbledon, that "Mumbles, Shaw & +Co., wholesale dealers in pork, cheese, onions, dried apples, sausages, +and verdigris, continue at the old stand, No. 9 Temple street, where +they will entertain the trading public in a genteel and finished +manner." + +Thus it appears Mr. Salsify's high hopes are at length realized. Most +fortunate man! He has "risen in his profession" to the topmost summit of +his earthly ambition. + +Happy will it be for him if he remains content with his present +elevation, and goes not, like too many restless mortals, clambering to a +higher point, only to fall back, on some adverse day, into the slough of +ill-luck and despondency. + +Mrs. Salsify sits in her parlor making caps for her thumb, at least we +should judge so, from their surprisingly small dimensions; and Mary +Madeline is nowhere to be seen. But Dilly Danforth is in the kitchen +bending over a great wash-tub, pale and sunken-eyed as ever. Now that we +look at this woman attentively, it strikes us she is wonderfully like +that lank-visaged man, who dwells in the lonely forest hut, the "Hermit +of the Cedars," as he is called. But then it may be only the resemblance +which all the sons and daughters of affliction have in common. 'Tis not +likely 'tis more than that. And gazing on Willie, who stands over the +great arches, replenishing the fires, and at intervals poking the white +heaps of linen beneath the fierce bubbling suds with a long wooden +shovel, we fancy for a moment there's something about him like Edgar +Lindenwood. Of course, he is not so large or so well-dressed; +nevertheless, he is greatly improved since we last saw him; and there is +something in the turn of the head, which is certainly finely shaped, +though placed on the shoulders of a beggar boy; and something in the set +of the rusty cloth cap over the bright, sunny curls, that reminds us of +the tall, graceful lad we used to see winding his way over the hills to +the large, white seminary. But then, a great many boys have +pretty-formed heads, and bright, curly hair; and, should we attempt, no +doubt we could find a large number with more points of resemblance than +we have been able to make out between Edgar Lindenwood and Willie +Danforth. We are full of conceits. Sometimes Edith Malcome is like +Florence Howard, and Rufus' glistening, coal-black hair reminds us of +Hannah Doliver, while the handsome colonel has a look we cannot fathom, +and from which we turn with a creeping shudder. + +'Tis quite astonishing what strange fancies possess people at times. + +While we have been indulging in ours, Mrs. Mumbles has put away those +impossible caps, and come into the kitchen to see how matters and things +are progressing, and just as she begins to tell Aunt Dilly, that she +"wants her to get through washing in time to scour down the pantry +shelves and scrub the oil-cloth on the dining-room floor," in runs Miss +Susan Pimble, and says, "Mamma wants Mrs. Danforth to come and do a +little light work for her, to-morrow; for she has got to go to Goslin +Flats to attend a great mass convention, and can't stop to do it +herself. She will pay Aunt Dilly well, if she will oblige her. Garrison +has been sick--Peggy Nonce is away on a visit to her son, who has +recently been married, and mamma's public duties and household affairs +have proved too heavy for her shoulders," etc., etc. + +Susy ran through a long rigmarole, with a volubility worthy the daughter +of a fluent public speaker. + +We hasten away lest our mania for discovering resemblances should detect +one between Mrs. Salsify Mumbles and pert Susy Pimble. + + + + + CHAPTER XIX. + + "Ay, little do those features wear + The shade of sin,--the soil of care; + The hair is parted o'er a brow + Open and white as mountain-snow, + And clusters there in many a ring, + With sun and summer glistening. + Yet something on that brow has wrought + A moment's cast of angry thought." + + +In an arbor of Major Howard's elegant garden, the moonlight shimmering +its rich, clustering vines with silver, and the night-breezes murmuring +in low, musical voices among the dark green leaves, sat a man of +commanding aspect and handsome features. Light auburn hair, closely +trimmed, lay in short, thick masses of wavy curls around his high, pale +brow. His mien and manner indicated the well-bred gentleman. A small, +dark figure crouched beside him. It was Hannah Doliver. + +"We meet again at last," said the man, after a considerable silence. His +voice was low and deep, and the woman trembled as she answered, + +"I marvel how you have discovered me." + +"Few things escape my knowledge which it subserves my interest to know," +returned he. "What in the name of all the fiends possessed you to enter +the service of Tom Howard?" + +"A lone, forsaken female finds shelter where she can," whined the woman. + +"O, don't babble in that hypocritical tone!" said the man. "I did not +leave you so destitute; and I took the child off your hands that no +incumbrance might fetter your footsteps." + +"Fiend!" exclaimed Hannah. "You shall not talk to me thus. What have you +done with my boy?" + +"I have done well by him," answered the man. "He has been reared as a +gentleman. No stain has ever been suspected on his birth." + +"Where is he?" asked she, in a voice trembling with emotion. + +"He is near you. I left him but an hour ago, well and happy." + +"Near me!" said the woman almost wildly. "It cannot be--you lie to me, +Herbert!" + +"By the heavens above, I utter the solemn truth!" returned the man. + +"What name does he bear?" + +The man bowed his tall form and whispered in her ear. She sprang to her +feet, paced hurriedly to and fro down the little alcove, and at length +threw herself on her knees and exclaimed, + +"O, let me see him! Can you be so cruel as to withhold the child from +his mother's right?" + +"It rests with you to decide whether you see him or no," said the man, +wholly unmoved by her distress and emotion. Swear to keep my presence +here a secret, and do my bidding in all things, and you may see your boy +when you choose." + +"I swear!" answered the woman, frantically. + +"Tell me first why you are here serving Tom Howard's wife?" + +"I am not serving his wife." + +"Who then?" + +"His sister." + +"His sister!" exclaimed the man, now evincing strong emotion. "And does +she live?" + +"She lives; and lives to palm herself off on the world as the wife of +her own brother." + +"What iniquity!" said the man. The woman burst into a low laugh. + +"Why do you laugh?" demanded he, fiercely. + +"Because iniquity comes so prettily from your lips," replied she in a +sarcastic tone. + +"Take care, woman!" said he. "Remember you are in my power." + +The little dark figure trembled and was silent. + +"I wonder she would receive you again into her service," remarked the +man at length in an absorbed tone. + +"Fear is a strong motive. I threatened to reveal her deception to the +public." + +"Ay, you have some skill and tact, I find!" said he, rising. "Now +remember, when I wish to see your mistress, you are to gain me an +entrance to her." + +"What do you want to see her for?" asked the woman. "I believe a sight +of you would throw her into fits." + +"It is none of your business why I wish to see her," said he. "But mind, +you do not look on your boy unless you implicitly obey all my commands." +Here he stooped and whispered again in her ear. + +"I hate the girl!" she said, after he had ceased speaking and stood +gazing down on her, twirling his velvet cap carelessly in his hand. + +"But you would like to see your boy so well married," remarked he. + +"'Twould be a sweet revenge," she said in a chuckling tone. He turned +to depart. + +"Herbert!" she called, softly. + +"What do you wish?" said he, pausing. + +The woman hesitated, and at length said, "The girl--her child I mean; is +she----?" + +Again the man whispered in her ear. "None can say," he added aloud, +"that I have not been a kind parent to my children." + +"I'm glad there's some virtue in you," said the woman, turning toward +the quiet mansion that stood in almost palace-like magnificence in the +midst of the beautiful grounds that surrounded it on all sides. The man +lingered behind, and finally left the garden by a path lying in an +opposite direction from the one by which he had entered. He bent his +steps rapidly in the direction of the river. Either the warmth of the +night or his own emotions oppressed him; for, as he gained its banks, he +slackened his pace, drew off his cap, and loosened his collar. With +arms folded across his chest, he moved slowly along, like one intensely +absorbed in some dark and intricate train of thought. Sometimes he +muttered to himself, and made strange gestures, or tossed his head with +a confident air, as though he saw onward to the success of some plan he +concerted. So occupied was he in his own thoughts, that he never saw the +tall, gaunt figure of a man, crouching in the shadow of a small linden +tree, that stood on the bank of the river, nearly opposite Dilly +Danforth's wretched abode, although he passed in so close contact as to +brush against the little bundle of sticks the unknown held in his hand, +while his deep, sunken eyes glared on the passer till they seemed nearly +starting from their sockets. + +"'Tis he!" murmured the gazer, when the abstracted one was beyond the +sound of his voice. "I must see where he goes;" and, stealing +noiselessly to the door of Dilly's abode, he placed the bundle of sticks +on her sill, and slowly followed the receding figure. + + + + + CHAPTER XX. + + "And the clear depths of her dark eye + Were bright with troubled brilliancy, + Yet the lips drooped as with the tear, + Which might oppress, but not appear. + Her curls, with all their sunny glow, + Were braided o'er an aching brow; + But well she knew how many sought + To gaze upon her secret thought;-- + And love is proud--she might not brook + That others on her heart should look." + + +One pleasant autumn evening a social group were assembled in Mr. Leroy +Edson's tasteful parlor. A tall, argand lamp on a marble table, shed its +mild, ethereal light over the rich furniture. A bright fire glowed in +the marble grate, and in the genial atmosphere of her own creating, +young Mrs. Edson moved, a thing of grace and beauty. She wore a robe of +emerald Genoa velvet, with an open bodice, laced over a chemisette of +fine-wrought Mechlin lace. Broad, drooping Pagoda sleeves revealed her +white arms encircled by quaintly-fashioned jet bracelets. Her guests +were not numerous, but select. Col. Malcome and his family were most +prominent among the number. Florence Howard was there, attended by +Rufus, and Edgar Lindenwood in company with Edith. Jenny Andrews, with +no less a personage than our quondam, roguish friend, Dick Giblet, +shop-boy of Mr. Salsify Mumbles' grocery; now Mr. Richard Giblet, of the +firm of Edson, Giblet & Co. A very respectable appearance Dick made, +too, for he was a quick, sprightly young fellow, albeit somewhat +over-fond of a mischievous joke; but this he would outgrow in time +probably. Amy Seaton, sedate and modest as ever, with laughing Charlie +for her beau, and several others, among whom we might mention Miss +Martha Pinkerton, made up the little party. + +Edith looked fragile and sweet as ever in a dress of azure thibet cloth, +her light hair hanging in clusters of wavy curls over her small +shoulders. She leaned gracefully on the arm of Lindenwood, and looked in +his face with a gentle, artless expression of countenance. + +Florence, in her crimson cashmere, and dark, massy ringlets, looked a +shade paler than when we last saw her, but more queenly and brilliant, +if possible. + +There were many points of resemblance between her and Louise Edson. Both +were endowed with superior mental and intellectual powers; both +accomplished and beautiful; but there was at times a gentleness in +Florence's manner, a dreamy light in the far depths of her large, hazel +eyes, that indicated less firmness and strength of character, with +tenderer susceptibilities. Perhaps life's trials would sooner unnerve +her spirit. + +Mr. Edson was not present, nor was it necessary he should be, to enhance +the enjoyment of his gifted wife. He was, in fact, very much the same +sort of an appendage in his elegant mansion that Mrs. Pimble averred her +husband to be in his,--"a mere crank to keep the machine in motion." Not +that Mrs. Edson monopolized her husband's sphere, as did the masculine +Mrs. Pimble. By no means. She appeared to give her lord full sway and +sceptre in his own household, and the good-natured man thought never +husband had so obedient, condescending partner as blessed his bosom. +Consummate actress, to conquer where she seemed to yield, and use her +advantages so skilfully that the vanquished felt himself the victor. +Mrs. Pimble stormed and blustered, but she exercised not half the power +over her household that Louise Edson swayed by a soft word or placid +smile. + +But we forget our party, which waxes merry as the evening progresses, +warmed by the genial influences of social intercourse. Col. Malcome and +Mrs. Edson discussed the merits of different authors; Lindenwood +modestly joined them, and Florence dropped an occasional word. Edith sat +silent. Rufus yawned, and at length commenced a game of forfeits with +Dick Giblet, over which he soon grew so boisterous, that his father +reproved him sternly for a violation of the rules of politeness. The +youth's brow flushed with sudden anger, and for the remainder of the +evening he sat apart from the company. When the party dispersed he did +not come forward to claim Florence, and she fell a second time to the +care of Col. Malcome. Edgar escorted Edith, and the couples went +different ways to reach their destinations. Edgar took the street by the +river, and Col. M. that leading past the seminary. The latter had much +the longer walk; but Edith, fragile and delicate, complained of fatigue, +ere they had proceeded far, and Edgar proposed she should rest awhile on +the trunk of a fallen tree by the river's brink. She sat down, and he, +after a few moments, assumed a seat at her side. Her veil was thrown +off, and her small silk hat had fallen back from her head, revealing in +full her girlish features and wavy, auburn curls. Edgar was gazing on +the beautiful face, when suddenly a footstep met his ear, and, turning, +he beheld his uncle, the hermit, standing before them, staring wildly +upon Edith; who, as soon as she discovered the strange-looking being, +uttered a faint scream and sunk on Edgar's bosom. "Don't be alarmed," +said he, whispering in her ear; "this man will not harm you,"--and then +lifting his head to address his uncle, and inquire what brought him +there, so far from home at that late hour, he found the hermit had +disappeared. + +Calming Edith's alarm as well as he was able, he escorted her home, and +then set off for the hut in the forest, pondering, as he went, upon the +event of the evening, and wondering what could be the cause of the +fierce and ireful expression which disfigured the usually placid face of +his uncle, as he gazed so fixedly on Edith. It reminded him of the +violent passion evinced in regard to his intercourse with Florence +Howard. He knew the recluse had experienced a severe disappointment in +early life, and concluded this had tended to sour his mind toward the +whole female race, and caused him to look with angry distrust upon the +most gentle and lovely of the sex. In no other way could he account for +the repugnance manifested by his uncle toward his friendship and +acquaintance with both Florence and Edith. Thus ruminating, he reached +the forest habitation to find all dark and gloomy. The hermit had not +returned to his hut. + +Col. Malcome lingered a moment as he escorted Florence to the door of +her father's mansion, and, as he did so, Major Howard stepped forth, +rather suddenly. Florence presented him to the colonel, and the two +gentlemen shook hands cordially. + +"I have frequently desired to call on you and form your acquaintance, +Col. Malcome," said the major; "but frequent absences from home, and the +delicate health of my wife, have prevented me hitherto." + +A slight, cynical smile flitted over the colonel's face at these latter +words, but it was not observed in the obscure light of evening, and he +answered, politely, that he had often desired an acquaintance with the +major, and hoped that now their children had established a friendly +intercourse, the parents might soon follow the example. + +Major Howard expressed a wish that it might be so, and Col. Malcome, +bowing gracefully, retired. + +Florence, after inquiring for her mother, and learning she was +comfortable as usual, ascended to her room, made fast the door, and drew +forth her journal, which was the dearest companion of her lonely hours, +the receptacle of her most treasured thoughts, and safety-valve for all +unuttered griefs and hidden sorrows. + +She had scarcely touched her gold-tipped pen to the virgin page, when a +soft knock on the door displaced her train of thought. + +"Father?" said she putting her lips close to the lock, for he was the +only one from whom she could expect a call at that late hour. There was +no answer. She hesitated a moment, and then opened the door. Hannah +Doliver slid in. + +Florence stood still, gazing with astonishment on the little wiry form, +as it wormed around the apartment, touching the books, and giving sudden +pulls at the curtains and bed drapery. She had never seen Hannah over +her threshold before, and wondered what a visit from her might import. + +"I came to see if you wanted anything, Miss Florence," said the woman, +at length, fixing her twinkling eyes on the fair girl's face. + +"No!" said Florence, in an impatient tone; "what should I want at this +hour, but to be alone?" + +"O, I'm not going to intrude upon you but a moment," returned Hannah. "I +thought, as you had been out late and 'twas rather cold, you might want +a fire lighted in your room, or a cup of warm tea, or something; so I +ran up to see." Florence grew more and more astonished. "Have you +enjoyed yourself this evening?" asked Hannah. + +"Yes," answered Florence briefly. + +"I am glad to hear it," returned the woman. "This Col. Mer---- what is +his name?" she paused and asked abruptly. + +"Malcome," said Florence. + +"O, yes! I'm bad at remembering strange names. Well, this Col. Malcome +has got some fine children, has he not?" + +"Yes," returned Florence; "his daughter is a beautiful girl." + +"And his son?" + +"Is a loggerhead." + +At these words, a furious anger, flashed over Hannah's face, and, +glaring fiercely on Florence for a moment, she darted from the room and +slammed the door behind her. The young girl turned the key, saying, "I'm +glad to be rid of her hateful presence. What possessed her to come here +is more than I can tell." And in the surprise this unusual visit +occasioned, she retired and forgot her journal. + + + + + CHAPTER XXI. + + "A mien that neither seeks nor shuns + The homage scattered in her way; + A love that hath few favored ones, + And yet for all can work and pray. + A smile wherein each mortal reads + The very sympathy he needs; + An eye like to a mystic book, + Of lays that bard or prophet sings, + Which keepeth for the holiest look + Of holiest love, its deepest things." + + +What an impetus was given to the cause of Woman's Rights, when the first +Bloomer stepped upon the stage! With what tremendous huzzas of triumph +and victory did the whole assaulting sisterhood mount the breaches thus +made in the great bulwarks of man's tyranny and despotism; infuriately +calling on every woman throughout the length and breadth of the nation +to rise in the might of her slumbering strength, make her petticoats +into pillars of defiance, and hurl them on the weak, unguarded outposts, +till the whole tottering fabric should go down with a crash to rise no +more. + +Mrs. Pimble and her coadjutors commenced rolling the ball of reform +with increased velocity. Mass meetings, of the most boisterous and +denunciatory character, were held through the community. It appeared a +war was commenced which threatened to cease only with the extermination +of the masculine portion of Wimbledon. Mr. Salsify Mumbles, though as +brave as most men in common encounters, was afraid to step outside his +door lest his unmentionables should be seized by some of the new-fledged +manhood, and a petticoat tied to his coat-tail. Even the green damask +curtains and cushion-coverings that adorned the high, old-fashioned +pulpit of the village church, were voted as ostentatious and calculated +to foster luxurious idleness in the pastor; and a committee appointed +and authorized to tear them from their places and sew them into bloomers +for the comfort of the lady-lecturers, whose callings exposed them to +the most inclement weathers. And so green-legged Philanthropy stalked +through Wimbledon; but it never laid an armful of wood on the sill of +Dilly Danforth's humble abode, though rough blew the storms of the +inclement winter; nor did it put a cap over Master Willie's curly locks, +or sew a charitable patch on the elbow of his ragged jacket. Because it +was philanthropy in the wider sense, which sought to relieve in the sum +of thousands--not of units. + +Mrs. Dr. Simcoe figured not so largely among the sisterhood of reformers +as she would have done had she not been encumbered by "Simcoe's +children," who were two of the most ill-natured, uncompromising +offshoots of barbarism that ever tormented a meek, unoffending woman. + +Mrs. Lawson thought some reformer should arise to fill the place so +nearly vacated by the persecuted lady, and fixed upon Mrs. Edson as her +successor. + +So, on a day, Mrs. Lawson, in green damask bloomers, black overcoat, and +deer-skin gloves, appeared on the steps of Mrs. Edson's mansion, and +gave a herculean pull at the door-bell which brought the master of the +house instanter, with staring eyes, to answer the pealing summons. "I +believe Mrs. Edson resides here," said the lady-reformist, looking +loftily upon the man, who was evidently very much struck with his +visitor's personal equipments. + +"She does," answered he, at length. + +"I have come to hold a conversation with her," said Mrs. Lawson, +stamping the snow from her boots, and proceeding toward the open door of +the sitting-room. + +Louise rose as she entered, glanced at the strange figure, then at her +husband, and then back to the figure again, with an amusing expression +of wonder on her beautiful features. + +"I do not know this--this person's name," said he, at length. + +"Lawson--Mrs. Portentia Lawson!" said the lady-reformist, laying her +walking-stick on the piano, and unbuttoning her over-coat. "I am +actively engaged in the benevolent enterprises of the day, and have come +to obtain your aid and cooeperation, madam." Here she made a low +inclination toward Louise. + +"My wife does not meddle in such matters," said Mr. Edson, simply. "I +pay a stated sum yearly toward the support of the gospel, and give as +much as people in general to the missionary and Bible societies." + +"It is nothing to me," said Mrs. Lawson, turning sharply upon the +speaker, "what you give to support the gospel, or to endow Bible +societies. I have nothing to do with such milk-sop organizations, or the +donkeys that draggle at their heels. Other and loftier objects engage my +attention and claim my powers. My business is not with you, sir! It is +with the woman who condescends to acknowledge you as her husband!" +Having delivered herself of the preceding harangue, Mrs. Lawson turned +her attention to Louise, and vouchsafed no further notice of Mr. Edson, +who soon slunk out of the room and returned to his counter. + +"I suppose you are not wholly ignorant of the reform the more talented +of your sex are making efforts to effect in the social condition of +Wimbledon," remarked the nimble-tongued Mrs. Lawson to her fair auditor, +who was sitting in a low rocking-chair before the glowing grate, with +her tiny, slippered-feet poised on the fender. + +"Yes!" answered she, purposely ignorant. "I am confined at home by my +duties as a wife, and know very little of what is passing around me." + +Mrs. Lawson proceeded to give a detailed account of the labors of a +small band of enfranchised females for the liberation of their enslaved +and suffering sisters, whose weakness and timidity had hitherto +prevented their rising and throwing off the yoke of the oppressor, man. +So eloquently did she rehearse her tale, so still and patient was her +listener, that she felt confident of gaining a new coaedjutor in the +ranks of female reform. As she finished her recital, she directed a +sharp, piercing glance toward Mrs. Edson, whose calm, clear eyes and +placid face evinced no disturbing emotions. + +"Will you join our ranks?" demanded Mrs. Lawson, "and aid us in rending +the fetters forged on woman's wrists by the tyrant man?" + +"No!" said Louise, in a quiet but determined tone. + +"Then you do not believe in Woman's Rights!" said Mrs. Lawson, half her +enthusiasm falling off and leaving her coarse features blank and bare. + +"O, yes!" answered Louise, her face brightening as she spoke, "I believe +in Woman's Rights with all my heart and soul. Yet not in crowds, and +camps, and forums, where swarming multitudes are jostling to and fro; +and brawls, and shouts, and loud harangues make tumult in the air, do I +believe she finds her proper sphere. Not in halls of legislation, or +among empannelled juries, or yet within the sacred desk, would I behold +the form of woman. No, no! what sight so revolting to a refined +soul--whether it dwell in male or female bosom--as unsexed womanhood, +booted and spurred, parading over rostrums, brawling in debates, and +spouting sophistical sentiments on subjects of whose true signification +they are as ignorant as an idiot of the laughter and derision his babble +excites? O, 'tis woman's thrice-beautiful right to relieve and succor +the care-worn and distressed, wherever on this goodly earth they fall +within the circle of her sphere and influence! To give sweet, +unobtrusive charities to the children of want! By gentle words of +sympathy and hope, to raise and cheer the drooping souls of her erring +sisters; and in dim-lighted rooms, where restless disease tosses on +couches of pain and agony, 'tis hers to move with noiseless tread, to +smooth the pillow, bathe the brow, and give the healing potion! Say not +her sphere is limited, her influence small, her mission low, or her +rights unacknowledged." + +Louise rose as she proceeded, her face glowing with the sentiments she +uttered. Mrs. Lawson stood before her, moving backwards gradually, till +she finally receded through the open door, took to the street, and was +seen no more in the home of Louise Edson. + + + + + CHAPTER XXII. + + "Babies are very well when they don't cry, + But when they do, I choose not to be nigh; + For of all awful sounds that can appal, + The most terrific is a baby's squall; + I'd rather hear a panther's hungry howl, + Or e'en a tiger's deep, ferocious growl, + Than sit in chimney-corner 'neath my hat, + And list the screechings of an irate brat." + + +We thought we would go to Mrs. Stanhope's this cold, starry, winter +evening, but on passing the parlor windows of Dea. Allen's cottage, the +curtains being yet undrawn, we distinguished, by the blazing firelight +within, the form of that good lady, and also that of her maiden sister, +Miss Martha Pinkerton, both sitting at the family table, drinking tea +with the good deacon and his amiable spouse. Amy Seaton and Charlie were +there, too, but we missed the laughing face of Jenny Andrews, and Mrs. +Allen said she was gone on a sleighing excursion, which a number of the +young people of Wimbledon were enjoying, this fine, bright evening. + +"I want to know," asked Miss Pinkerton, sipping her bohea, "if you +believe there's any truth in the report of Florence Howard's engagement +with Rufus Malcome, Mrs. Allen?" + +"Well, I never thought much about the matter," returned that +mild-visaged lady. "The young people's affairs don't interest me +particularly. The two families are quite intimate. We have the Malcomes +at our next door, and can't well avoid seeing a large number of their +visitors, as they come and go." + +"Col. Malcome is a very gentlemanly man," remarked Mrs. Stanhope, as +they were rising from the table. + +"Yes," said the good deacon, wiping his face with a yellow silk +handkerchief; "but sometimes I fear he is not the Christian he should +be. He never goes to church, and every Sunday that wicked-looking woman +of Major Howard's is there the whole day, racketing about with Rufus and +the servants. I don't think a peaceable, pious man would counsel such +doings, for my part." + +"That Hannah Doliver at Col. Malcome's every Sabbath?" said Miss +Pinkerton, opening wide her large, light eyes; "I don't see what she +does there; really, the impudence of some people is astonishing. 'Tis +likely she wants to see all she can and gossip about the colonel's +affairs." + +Nobody replied to this pert speech of Miss Martha's, and Mrs. Stanhope +resumed the conversation by giving a brief account of Mrs. Lawson's +discomfiting attempt to convert Mrs. Louise Edson into a reformer; she +having received an amusing description of the scene from Louise's own +lips. This was exciting considerable merriment among the group, when +there came a rap on the door, and Mrs. Salsify Mumbles entered with her +daughter, Mary Madeline; the latter carrying a bundle in her arms. +Before the salutations were fairly over, said bundle began to squeal, +and on removing several yellow flannel blankets, a baby was discovered +of nearly the same hue as the shawls which had enveloped it. + +And the baby became the toast on all sides; as what baby does not, when +making its debut among strangers? Mrs. Allen said it was the image of +its grandma, whereupon Mrs. Salsify laughed and looked supremely silly. +The deacon patted its back and said, "Poor little innocent! what a world +of sin and misery it has come into!" + +Mrs. Stanhope said it appeared very strong of its age, and Miss +Pinkerton gave it a hasty, expressive glance, which spoke _her_ opinion +more eloquently than words could have done. + +Amy and Charlie approached in their turn, and, gazing on it, exclaimed, +innocently, + +"What a _funny thing_!" + +Verily, there was more truth than fiction in these words. It certainly +_was_ a funny thing. On the crown of its long, bare, peaked head, stuck +one of the little, furbelowed caps we once saw Mrs. Salsify engaged in +making, which was tied down over its flapping ears with orange-colored +ribbon. A receding forehead, little specs of eyes, a turned-up nose, and +great blubber lips, adown whose corners flowed eternally two miniature +cataracts. O, what a face! Surely, nobody but a grandmother would be +pleased to have it said to resemble theirs. 'Twas such a scowling, +uncomfortable-looking baby, and had such a shrill, piercing squeal for a +cry; for all the world like a miniature porker. Mary Madeline tossed it +up and down in her arms, trotted it on her knee, but still it squealed, +and Mrs. Salsify said it was squealing for its father; it always did so +when it was carried away from him, and they should have to take it home. +So they bundled off, and then Miss Martha spoke. "It was strange people +would carry their squalling brats into their neighbors' houses to annoy +them." + +"Children are usually more trouble among strangers than at home," Mrs. +Allen remarked. + +Then Charlie Seaton said, "Willie Danforth told him it was always +squealing when he passed Mr. Salsify's, which was several times a day, +on his way to and from the seminary; and he thought they kept a pig in +their parlor, till one day he saw the baby's face at the window, and +discovered the sounds proceeded from its noisy throat." + +"How happens it that Willie Danforth goes to school at the seminary, +when his mother is so poor?" asked Miss Pinkerton. + +"Willie says his mother found a paper on her door-sill one morning," +answered Charlie, "and on opening it several bank-notes fell out. On the +paper was written, 'Use these for William's tuition at the seminary.' So +he is going to school till the money is spent." + +"Well, I declare," said Miss Martha, "that was a strange incident. Does +Mrs. Danforth know who left the money?" + +"She thinks it was the same one who leaves little bundles of sticks at +her door, every now and then," answered Charlie. + +"Well, who is that?" inquired Miss P. + +"O, she don't know," returned the lad. + +"I am glad some kind soul remembers the poor widow," said Mrs. Allen; +"for I have often feared many of us were too neglectful of the lone +woman." + +"You know, wife," said the deacon, "what sad reports we heard of her +hypocrisy; how she assumed an appearance of extreme poverty to create +sympathy and wheedle people into deeds of false benevolence. I do not +think such sinfulness should be countenanced." + +"I know such reports were spread abroad concerning her," remarked Mrs. +Stanhope; "but I never could trace them to any other source than that +ranting, blustering Mrs. Pimble." + +"What! that brawling, fanatical, crazy-pated, man-woman?" exclaimed the +deacon, vehemently; "pray, don't mention her. The wrath of God will fall +upon her and all the guilty brood who have desecrated His sanctuary, by +tearing down its curtains and converting them into garments to serve +Satan in." The excitable deacon was waxing warm, when his wife gave him +a conjugal nudge, and he held his peace. + + + + + CHAPTER XXIII. + + "From the hour by him enchanted, + From the moment when we met; + Henceforth by one image haunted, + Life may never more forget. + All my nature changed--his being + Seemed the only source of mine. + Fond heart, hadst thou no foreseeing + Thy sad future to divine?" + + +Florence Howard sat in a deep-cushioned fauteuil, beside a marble table +which graced the centre of the elegant apartment she called her own. A +loose robe, of India cashmere, in superb colors, with a lining of the +softest, rose-colored velvet, was folded carelessly about her graceful +form. One white hand toyed with the luxuriant chestnut curls, that hung +in beautiful profusion over her shoulders; the other rested lightly on +the cushioned arm of the chair. A quantity of rich writing materials +were spread out on the table before her; but she glanced towards them +listlessly, and at length bowed her queenly head between her hands, and +sat a long time still and silent, as if absorbed in reverie. Ever and +anon her little foot tapped impatiently the soft carpet beneath it, as +though some harassing, unpleasant vision disturbed her brain. The clear, +ringing chimes of the college clock finally aroused her to +consciousness. + +Rising, she drew aside the heavy folds of the damask curtain, and gazed +for a moment forth on the sleeping earth. The stars were bright, and a +slender crescent rim hung just above the dark cedar forest that swept +and swayed to the northward. Florence dropped the curtain, and, +returning to the table, opened a large morocco-bound volume, which +revealed a virgin page. Twirling the silver top from a carved, mosaic +inkstand, she dipped the golden tips of a pearl-handled pen in its ebon +contents, and holding it between her small, taper fingers, rested her +arm a few moments on the stand, as if waiting for her thoughts to form +and arrange themselves ere she gave them expression. Suddenly the pen +dashed off, and line after line of graceful characters grew on the pure, +white page till it was completely filled. + +"I have looked out on the midnight," she wrote, "with all its countless +diamonds blazing on its brow; and far on the verge of the northern +horizon hung the pale disc of the young crescent moon hurrying to +obscure itself behind the dark, gloomy forest,--like as my hopes fail +when I turn my eyes toward those cedar-tops. O, earth, how soon thy +children learn the lesson of sorrow and distrust! But where is my old +pen taking me this evening? This journal grows a sad, ghostly thing, +o'ersplashed with tears, and wo-fraught to the edges. + +"To turn the subject: What have I done to-day? Moped dismally till +evening, and then muffled myself in furs; sat down among cushions and +buffalo robes in the omnibus-sleigh, beside ----, shall I write it? yes! +beside Rufus Malcome, and dashed away over the snow-clad earth to the +music of merry bells and merrier voices around me. + +"How finely Jenny Andrews and Richard Giblet enjoyed themselves! I +understood their happiness well. Mrs. Edson was not quite so buoyant +with spirits as usual; but she conversed with Rufus in her charming +style. I was quite indignant to hear so much eloquence and refinement +wasted on a churl like him, and just malicious enough to think the fair +speaker would have preferred to say her pretty things in the ear of one +who could have better appreciated their worth and beauty, namely, Col. +Malcome. He is really a splendid man, though I hardly relish the power +he seems to exercise over father, who is so infatuated with him I +believe he would scarcely be able to refuse any request he might choose +to make. I wonder so talented a father should own a dolt like Rufus for +a son. Silly-pated fellow! he has made love to me several times. I say +_made_ it, and truthfully; for no such simpleton as he could ever +actually _feel_ it in their bosoms. But then, no doubt, he thinks he is +in love,--desperately so. I have no pity for him; nothing but contempt, +and yet, should he propose for me to my father, I fear the result would +be his acceptance. He has wealth and position, and I know father has a +suspicion that I have yet a lingering recollection of the hermit's boy, +as he calls Edgar. O, name of all others! Have I dared write it in full +on these pages? I must draw an obscuring line over it. There! Now, + + 'One last, long sigh to hope and love, + Then back to busy life again.'" + +While Florence was occupied with her journal in the room above, Col. +Malcome sat with her father in the parlor below, and that which she had +feared might some time come to pass had actually occurred; and when she +nestled down on her soft pillow and sank to sleep, if her slumbers were +not tranquil and dreamless, they were sweeter than any she might know +for many a weary night to come; for she slept in blissful ignorance that +she was the affianced bride of Rufus Malcome. Early on the following +morning her father imparted to her the dismal intelligence. + +"I have accepted him," said Major Howard, "on the conditions that the +engagement shall remain a secret between the families, and the union not +be consummated for at least one year, as you are both young. Col. +Malcome will give his son fifty thousand dollars on his marriage, and +also a splendid situation wherever he chooses to reside." + +He ceased, and Florence remained silent and abstracted. + +"This will be a match suitable for my daughter," said the fond father, +approaching and laying his hand affectionately on her bowed head. "Does +she not agree with me?" + +Florence lifted her face; the light seemed suddenly to have gone out of +her eyes and left them in utter darkness. No tinge of color glowed on +her features, which worked with painful and scarcely suppressed emotion. +The father started back on beholding her. "My child!" he exclaimed, +"what is the matter?" + +"Leave me alone, father, I entreat of you!" she said. + +"Not till you tell me what is distressing you so," said he, chafing her +cold hands in his. "Is this engagement so repulsive, so averse to your +feelings, as to cause this appearance of agony and distress?" + +But she only said, "Leave me, dear father, I entreat you, for a while! I +have a sudden illness. By and by I will speak to you." + +Awed by her tone and manner, the fond father obeyed. An hour passed by, +during which the grief-stricken girl never moved, when the door opened, +and Hannah Doliver entered. She glowered on Florence with an expression +of hate and gratified revenge, which changed to one of fawning fondness +when the pale, tear-stained face was turned toward her. "Pray, don't sit +here in the cold all day!" said she. "Your mother desires you to come to +her." + +Florence wrapped her rich dressing-gown around her, stole down the +stairs and entered the apartment of the invalid, who reached her wasted +arm from the bed as she approached, and clasped it round the slender, +graceful waist. The young girl bowed her head on the pillow, and burst +into tears. + + + + + CHAPTER XXIV. + + "He held a letter in his withered hand + Which brought good tidings of the absent one. + O, what soul-cheering things are letters, when + They come fresh from the hand of one we love, + All brimming o'er with kindly-uttered words!" + + +The wailing winds swept onward with low and piteous sound, while the +"Hermit of the Cedars" sat beneath his humble roof, beside a rough +table, and, by the light of a tallow candle, pored over a +closely-written page. In the recess of the small window, a bright-haired +boy was sitting, very like the dreamy Edgar who sat there in summers and +seasons passed by, and watched the stars gleaming, like showers of +diamonds, through the interlacing forest-boughs. But it was not Edgar, +for he was far away, storing his mind from the mines of ancient lore. + +It was our little friend, Willie Danforth, the washerwoman's boy, for +whom the hermit had taken a large fancy since Edgar left him, and often +coaxed him from his mother to pass a few nights at the hut in the +forest. Willie, as we see him now, in the place where we were wont to +behold Edgar, is certainly wonderfully like him; and so thought Florence +Howard, when she saw the tall, graceful youth, in the same morocco cap +and blue frock coat Edgar used to wear, wending his way past her +father's mansion to the seminary on the hill. She sought to learn his +name; and some person, not very well informed, said 'twas William +Greyson, another foundling of that strange hermit's. + +But we wander from the lonely man, who still pores over the sheet he +holds in his attenuated fingers. It is a letter from Edgar Lindenwood. + +"Dear, dear uncle," it runs, "gladly I turn from musty tomes of olden +time lore, to give to you the star-lit midnight hour. Fancy, on airy +pinions, flits away over mountain-top and valley, and rests upon that +long arm of the tall linden, that stretches close to your lowly window, +and gazes through the narrow panes on your dear form, bending over some +treasured volume, or sitting, with bowed head, before a blazing fire, +lost in reveries of thought and contemplation. You express a fear that I +may have deemed you arbitrary and severe in the control sometimes +exercised over my humors and inclinations. Your fear is groundless, +uncle. Though some of your commands may have cost me a struggle ere I +could unmurmuringly obey, I have too high an estimate of your judgment +and discrimination to rebel against an authority I feel is grounded in +reason, and only exercised for my benefit and welfare in future life. + +"I remember a tale, my mother oft breathed in my infantine ears, of a +bright star that once skirted the literary horizon, and ere long darkly +disappeared; of a lofty, sensitive nature, that met a staggering blow, +and reeled to earth, no more to soar aloft. And, though I have never +known the details of that early disappointment, I regard, with +overflowing reverence, sympathy, and devotional affection, the suffering, +uncomplaining heart that struggles silently on, with its wreck of +youthful hopes and aspirations. + +"Shall I tell you, uncle, my university life promises to be a brief one? +You will think it augurs badly for the erudition of the faculty of this +institution, when I inform you that they have placed me among the senior +class, which will graduate in the coming spring. Then I propose to take a +brief tour of travel, and amuse myself by sketching from the beautiful +scenery of this country. I find the passion for art increases with my +years. Once I wished to be a poet, but now the painter's pencil yields me +most delight. + +"Ere long I hope to return to that home among the Cedars, and sit down to +quiet evenings by my dear uncle's side, with no sound in our ears save +the eternal roar of the mighty forest winds. + +"Far from experiencing a jealous pang, I rejoice to learn you have found +an object of interest in the youth you have taken under your care. May he +prove a grateful companion to your solitude, is the sincere wish of, +Yours, most truly, EDGAR." + +Such were the contents of the letter which the hermit perused several +times ere he folded it, and turned his attention to the boy, who was +still sitting by the small window, gazing forth into the windy night. + +"William," said he--and the lad approached. + +Something seemed trembling on the thin lips of the recluse which he +hesitated to reveal. At length, as if suddenly changing his purpose, he +said: "Do you think your mother is comfortable, to-night, my boy?" + +"O, yes, sir!" answered Willie, "the large bundle of sticks you left at +her door yesterday evening will keep her warm for several days." + +"I hope they may," returned the hermit; "'tis a sad thing to be poor, +Willie, but 'tis a sadder thing to be wicked." + +"You do not think my mother is wicked, do you?" asked the boy, turning +his blue eyes quickly on the hermit's countenance. + +"Why do you ask?" said he, returning Willie's startled glance with a +grave smile. + +"Because I knew Mr. Pimble's folks said harsh things of her, and I +didn't know but you believed them, as you never chose to enter our +humble abode." + +"My gloomy disposition is averse to intercourse with the generality of +my species," returned the hermit, in a solemn tone; "nor do I ever heed +or hear the tales and gossipings of idle lips. In the last ten years I +have held no converse with any human beings, save you and your ---- and +my nephew, Edgar Lindenwood." + +Willie gazed on the strange man before him in silent awe. "Has your +mother ever expressed a wish to see me?" inquired the hermit, after a +pause. + +"Often," said Willie. + +"For what purpose?" demanded the recluse, in a quick, sudden tone, +looking eagerly on the boy's face. + +"To thank you for all your kindness to her," replied the lad, +ingenuously. + +"O, yes!" returned the solitary man, his features relapsing into their +usual placid serenity. "I wish not, nor deserve, her thanks for the +humble charities given. Let us seek our couch, my boy." + +"Have you another name than William?" he asked, as they were lying down. + +"Yes," answered the youth; "William Ralph is my name,--the first for my +father, the second for an uncle who went to distant countries, ere I can +remember, and has never been heard of since." + +"Was the uncle your father's or mother's brother?" inquired the hermit, +in a careless tone. + +"My mother's. Ralph Greyson was his name." + +"And does your mother appear to mourn his loss, or wish for his return?" +said the hermit, still in the same careless, half-absorbed tone of +voice. + +"She speaks pityingly of him sometimes, for he was a bright, promising +youth, she says, when one distressful circumstance crushed his hopes and +ruined his usefulness; but I do not think she desires his return, for he +left his native shores cursing her as the cause of his misfortunes." + +"Ah! how had she caused his misfortunes?" asked the hermit, drowsily. + +"By marrying below her sphere," said Willie, in a trembling, embarrassed +tone; "a man who proved a vulgar sot, and thus disgracing him in the +eyes of a proud family, with whom he sought an alliance." + +As Willie ceased speaking, the hermit breathed heavily, as if in deep +sleep; so, turning his face to the cedar-plaited wall, the lad was soon +wrapped in his own sweet, youthful slumbers. + + + + + CHAPTER XXV. + + "Wasting away--away--away, + Slowly, silently, day after day. + Fainter, and fainter and fainter the flow, + Of the current of life more sluggish and slow, + And a ghastly glare in the glassy eye, + And the wan cheek tinged with a hectic dye." + + +In the dim gloom of a soft spring evening, a slender, graceful form bent +silently over a low, curtained couch, gently fanning the annoying +insects from the pale brow of its slumbering occupant. The apartment was +furnished with almost princely magnificence. Curtains of the richest +blue-wrought damask, hung in massy folds from ceiling to floor, before +the deep bay-windows. Rosewood sofas and fauteuils, in costly coverings +of the same soft color, rested on the brilliantly interwoven flowers of +the Persian carpet, whose velvety softness echoed not the slightest +tread. A fairy chandelier hung suspended from the lofty, corniced +ceiling. Rare statuary decorated the mantel. Large mirrors and pictures +in broad gilt frames adorned the walls. Marble stands, covered with +deep-fringed cloths of gold, on which lay books in superb bindings, +graced the several corners, and the carved mahogany bedstead, behind +whose ample curtains of azure velvet the sleeper reposed, among +white-piled cushions of softest down, vied in elegant luxury with the +couch of an eastern princess. And there, with one white, wasted arm +thrown above the head, all shorn of its bright wealth of auburn curls, +and the other concealed 'neath the silken coverings, lay Edith Malcome, +the blue veins almost starting from her pale brow, and a bright crimson +spot on the sunken cheek. Alas, that earth's most lovely should fall the +earliest victims to the withering hand of disease! The door did softly +asunder, and her father entered. With an expression of deep care and +suffering depicted on his handsome features, he approached the bed-side. + +"Is she still sleeping?" demanded he, in a whisper which would have been +inaudible to an ear less quick than that of the silent watcher. + +"She is," was the ready answer, in the same hushed tone. He gazed +intently for several moments on the attenuated form before him, while +every variety of expression passed over his countenance. + +"If she dies," said he, at length, in a voice broken with grief, "what +will be left on earth to me?" + +The watcher was deeply affected by his grief-stricken appearance. "O, +speak not thus!" she said, bursting into tears. "She will not die; the +doctor has given us better hopes to-day. But even if she were to be +taken to her home in the skies, you must not say there's nothing left on +earth for you. You, so bright in soul and intellect, surrounded by +admiring friends and all the luxuries of princely wealth, with a son to +perpetuate your name"---- + +"Say no more," interrupted the afflicted man. "I cannot endure your +words." + +Louise was grieved to see she had only wounded where she meant to +soothe, and, with a gentle, impulsive movement, placed her hand on the +soft black curls of the head that was bowed among the cushions of the +bed, and said, "Forgive me, I meant not to afflict." + +Silently he took the little hand in his, and placed it on his throbbing +temples. Louise trembled. + +"Your brow is feverish," said she at length, seeking an excuse to +withdraw the imprisoned hand; "let me bathe it in some cooling lotion." + +"No," said he, "this moist little palm is better than any lotion," still +detaining it, as she sought to reach the stand which contained a +quantity of vials on a silver tray. The slight movements aroused Edith. +Opening her large, spiritual eyes, she gazed up in the faces of the +watchers at her bed-side, with a vague, dreamy expression. + +"Don't you know me, Edith?" asked her father, bending quickly over her. + +"O, yes, father!" answered she faintly; "and that lady is my mother," +she added, staring confusedly upon Louise, as if not yet in full +possession of her waking faculties. + +Louise looked embarrassed, and the colonel hastened to say, "That is +Mrs. Edson, my dear, who watches with you to-night. You are wandering a +little, I fear." + +"Well, where is my mother, then?" continued Edith, in the same strange +manner, which appeared to agitate her father deeply. + +"My child," said he, in a soothing tone, "have I not often told you your +mother died when you was a very little girl?" + +"I don't know," said Edith, "but last night I dreamed she came with a +pale face and bloody lips and stared so mournfully upon me. I wish you +would go and bring her to me, father." + +"My daughter, do I not tell you she is in her grave?" said the father, +trembling with emotion. "How can I bring her to you?" + +"Hannah Doliver told Rufus she would come if you would let her," +continued the sick girl, in a reproachful tone, apparently not +understanding her father's words. + +On hearing this, Col. Malcome started with a violent exclamation, which +alarmed Edith, and brought her at once into full possession of her +senses. Louise, who had marked, with her quick eye, the colonel's +strange excitement, approached and administered a reviving cordial to +the invalid. The father soon retired, leaving the watcher alone with her +charge. + +As the hours dragged slowly on, many were the thoughts which passed +through Mrs. Edson's active brain, as to the cause of Edith's singular +words, and the anger and excitement evinced by her father. At length the +gray morning dawned, and Sylva, Edith's attendant, appeared to relieve +the watcher from her post. + +As Louise was passing through the hall to gain the street, the door +suddenly opened, and Col. Malcome entered in cap and overcoat. He paused +and inquired if his daughter had passed a comfortable night, and, on +receiving an affirmative answer, proceeded to the drawing-room. + + + + + CHAPTER XXVI. + + "The old days we remember; + How softly did they glide! + While, all untouched by worldly care, + We wandered side by side. + In those pleasant days, when the sun's last rays + Just lingered on the hill; + Or the moon's pale light, with the coming night, + Shone o'er our pathway still. + + "The old days we remember, + O, there's nothing like them now! + The glow has faded from our hearts, + The blossom from the bough. + A bitter sigh for the hours gone by, + The dreams that might not last; + The friends deemed true when our hopes were new, + And the glorious visions past." + + +Rufus Malcome, as the accepted suitor of Florence, paid regular visits +to her father's mansion. Great was the glee of Hannah Doliver to behold +the young couple together; and great the nervous disquiet evinced by the +invalided Mrs. Howard when she was aware of the young man's presence in +the house. She had never met him, as her health, which had in the last +six months rapidly declined, confined her now entirely to her room, and +indisposed her more strongly than ever to behold strange faces. + +The only person she had ever been known to express a wish to see, since +her residence in Wimbledon, was Edith Malcome,--a wish excited, perhaps, +by Florence's warm praises of the grace and beauty of her young friend, +who was as different from Rufus, she said, "as a sweet pink from an +odious poppy." + +But Edith, strange as it may appear, had never visited at the Howards', +though often warmly invited by the whole family. + +The colonel invariably excused her in his easy, graceful manner, saying +she was "a timid little thing, and dreaded to go for a moment from her +father's side." Latterly, her illness had been sufficient reason for her +seclusion. + +Florence was restricted from frequent visits to her sick friend by the +state of her own health, which had grown so feeble and delicate as to +alarm her father exceedingly. Dr. Potipher was consulted, and strongly +advised travel and change of scene as the most effectual remedy for the +feverish disease that seemed preying upon her constitution. + +Major Howard was very willing to take his daughter on a tour of travel, +but knew not how to leave his invalid lady, whose strength he thought to +be gradually failing. She was far too low for him to indulge the idea of +making her one of the party, and he was about relinquishing the project +in despair, when, on mentioning the subject to the sick woman, great was +his surprise to find her even more anxious and earnest for his departure +than he was to go. She said "she should do very well without him,--she +always mended as summer approached, and Florence was drooping from long +and close confinement. She needed exercise and change of scene, and it +was his duty to do all in his power to restore her to health and +cheerfulness." Major Howard felt the only obstacle removed by the +invalid's assent and hearty cooeperation; so Florence was informed of the +project, and preparations immediately commenced for her tour. + +It was a pleasant April evening as she sat in her luxurious apartment +with her journal open before her. "The last of these bright spring +evenings that I am to pass at home is closing in around me," she wrote. +"My trunks are packed and closed down, and to-morrow I am to start on a +tour of travel. How my long torpid bosom bounds at the thought! I shall +sail up that picturesque Hudson! I shall look on glorious Niagara! But I +fear my anticipations are too brilliant. Something will occur to dreg my +expected draught of happiness with sorrow. Thus it has ever been! Too +well I know I shall return to become the bride of one I detest; but I +will not let that thought embitter my enjoyment of the wonders and +beauties I shall behold. Besides, in so long a time as I shall be +absent, what may occur? Ah, I have written words that make me shudder! I +fear I may return to find the snows covering my mother's grave. Why do I +leave her? Is it not selfishness to allow her to urge me away when it is +her own generous care and affection for me which prompt her to do so? +There is something strange in the way she speaks of my matrimonial +engagement. I am sure it does not meet her approval, though she gave her +consent, as she always does to everything upon which father sets his +mind. She evidently dreads its consummation, perhaps because she has +discovered my aversion for the man I am to marry. As to Hannah Doliver, +she is wonderfully mollified toward me of late; but her fawning fondness +is more intolerable than her asperity and impertinence. Nothing seems to +delight her so much as to behold Rufus Malcome in company with me. I +caught her watching at the parlor-door this evening when he called in +company with his father to leave his adieus. She accompanied them to the +door and remained several minutes in conversation in the hall. I found +her in the kitchen a short time after, and she was muttering to herself +and slamming things about in a great rage. When she discovered me she +ceased, and grew suddenly as sunny as summer. She is a strange, dark, +intriguing woman, I fear, and wish we were well quit of her. I asked +mother if she had not better discharge her, and get a new person to +attend her during our absence; but she said, with a sudden expression of +alarm, 'O, no; she would not part with Hannah on any account!' So I said +no more, but fancied her preference was dictated more by fear than love. +But I spin out a long record for this last evening at home. O, budding +vines and flowers! who will train your rich luxuriance into fairy, +fantastic clusterings, or watch your opening petals in the summer which +is to come? Who listen to the babbling fountains, or roam the cedar-walks +that border the dancing river? And O, the far, far-stretching forest, +from whose mysterious depths, in a bright year passed away, I saw _him_ +emerge, and hurried down the gravelled path to meet him at the +garden-gate, with happy, bounding heart! Will new scenes, however glad +and gay, e'er dim the memory of those dear times? Never!" + + + + + CHAPTER XXVII. + + "It is a pleasant thing to roam abroad, + And gaze on scenes and objects strange and grand; + To sail in mighty ships o'er distant seas, + And roam the mountains of a foreign land." + + +In Mrs. Stanhope's pretty cottage, close by the vine-shaded window, sat +Jenny Andrews, and she said Florence Howard had started on a tour of +travel. + +"Who is her companion?" asked Mrs. Stanhope. + +"Why, Rufus Malcome, of course," said Miss Pinkerton, quickly. + +"No," said Jenny, "her father." + +"Her father!" exclaimed Miss Martha, in a tone of surprise. "How in the +world could he leave his sick wife, I should like to know?" + +"Mrs. Howard is getting better, I believe," remarked Jenny. + +"Well, that's strange enough," continued Miss Pinkerton; "with that +impudent Hannah Doliver for a nurse, I wonder she has not died before +now." + +Hannah Doliver was Miss Martha's utter detestation, though why, we +cannot tell, as the little dark woman had never injured her, nor had +Miss Pinkerton ever exchanged above a dozen syllables with her in her +life. But it was one of those unaccountable dislikes which often arise +in people of certain temperaments, on first sight of a particular +individual. + +Mrs. Stanhope said she was glad Florence had gone a journey, for the +dear girl had looked pale and sickly of late, and she thought change of +scene might be beneficial to her health. + +Miss Martha inquired if Jenny knew how Edith Malcome was getting along. + +"I have just come from her," said Jenny; "she is very much changed. All +her beautiful hair has been cut away, and she is, O, so thin and wasted! +But they call her slowly improving." + +"Who takes care of her?" asked Miss P. + +"Her waiting-woman, Sylva, I believe," returned Jenny. + +"Well, it must be very hard for her to do it all the time," said Martha; +"if they would just ask me, I would go any time and assist them." + +"Mrs. Edson is there considerable," remarked Jenny. + +"I know she is; most too much for her credit," returned Miss Pinkerton; +"if a man has a wife, he wants her at home sometimes." + +"Why, Martha!" observed Mrs. Stanhope, mildly; "I never heard a +reproachful word of Mrs. Edson breathed by any person." + +"Neither did I," said Jenny, rising; "and if I do, I shan't believe it, +for I think she is the dearest, sweetest creature in the world." + +"With the exception of one Mr. Richard Giblet," remarked Miss Pinkerton, +in a tone she conceived to be vastly witty and piquant. + +Jenny's blush, as she bade good-morning, crowned the malicious maiden's +triumph. + +On this same morning, Mrs. Edson sat at her elegant rosewood piano, +carelessly striking the ivory keys, when she heard a light footstep, and +turning, beheld Col. Malcome advancing to her side. She was a little +angry that he had entered unannounced, and her cheeks flushed, as she +rather briefly bade him welcome. + +"I beg your pardon for entering so informally," said he, at once +interpreting the expression of her face. "Your doors were all ajar, and +I saw no one to announce me." + +"Had you rung, some one would have appeared," said Louise, with a slight +curl of her red lip. + +"Well, I beg your pardon for not doing so," returned he. "Will you grant +it?" + +There was something in the rueful appearance he assumed, which forced +her to laugh in spite of her efforts at dignity and restraint, and thus +he was reinstated in her good graces. + +"Are you playing?" he asked, touching his own fingers upon the keys, but +at a respectful distance from hers. + +"No," she returned. "I have practised so little of late I have lost all +my ear. Won't you favor me with that thrilling piece from Beethoven, you +performed on the first evening of our acquaintance?" She looked eagerly +in his face as she spoke. + +"What will you do for me if I will?" he asked. + +"O, anything in my power!" she replied, rising, and motioning him to +assume the music-stool, which he did very readily. Skilfully running +over the keys, by way of prelude, while she stood leaning gracefully +against the instrument, intently regarding his movements, he commenced +the symphony. The swelling notes rose on the air in brilliant variety, +and when, at the end of the second chorus, the rich, mellow tones of his +voice were added, Louise dropped on her knees beside the performer, +while tears gathered in her eyes and rolled over her beautiful face. He +did not seem to heed her position, so intently was his soul occupied +with the music his lips were breathing. At length the last magic strain +died mournfully away. Then he rested his deep blue eyes calmly on her +glowing features. + +"What shall I do for you?" she asked, smiling. + +"You promised," answered he, "to do anything I wished, if I would sing +the piece." + +"So I will," returned she, earnestly. + +"Then," said he, in a low, thrilling tone, "as Steerforth said to David, +think of me at my best." + +She looked at him eagerly. "Is that all?" she asked. + +"That is enough," he answered; "will you promise _always_ to do that?" + +She paused a few moments, and then answered, in a tone which indicated +her whole soul spoke in the words, "Yes, I promise." + +"Thank you," said he, extending his hand. + +She gave him hers. He held it a moment in his own. Then, pressing it +respectfully to his lips, bade her good-morning, and retired. + + + + + CHAPTER XXVIII. + + "And when in other climes we meet, + Some isle or vale enchanting, + And all looks flowery, wild and sweet, + And naught but love is wanting, + We think how blest had been our fate, + If Heaven had but assigned us + To live and die 'mid scenes like this, + With some we've left behind us." + + +Shout, reader, on the hill-tops of deliverance, for you and I are out of +Wimbledon. We have left behind us the Pimbles, the Mumbles, the Simcoes, +and their multitudinous voices grow indistinct in the distance, as, +borne by the rushing steam-steed, we fly on our way in search of our +fair traveller, who has got the start of us by several hours. We hardly +know whether to go up the Hudson, or hold straight on over the Erie road +for Niagara; but as we have no particular desire to see the former, our +remembrances of its picturesque scenery being marred by the unpleasant +circumstances under which we first beheld it, we incline to the latter +course. + +So world-wondered-at Niagara shall be our destination, where Florence +Howard and her father are already arrived and installed occupants of a +regally-furnished suite of apartments at the Clifton House on the Canada +side of the river. + +The new arrival had created quite a sensation; as new arrivals at these +fashionable watering-places, where the masses resort to display +themselves and behold and comment upon the display of others, always do. +As Florence, dressed with simple grace, leaned on the arm of her +noble-looking father, and entered the spacious dining-saloon, where +hundreds of both sexes, all flaunted out in the gayest and richest +attire, were already seated at the splendidly laid tables, every eye +levelled a critical glance on her garb and figure. Many an elegant lady, +in startling silks and astonishing ear-jewels, turned her nose sublimely +skyward and exclaimed "No great fetch,--these folks!" Gentlemen, in +surprising pants and prodigious vest buttons, said, with a princely +contempt, "Aw, an unsawphistawcated country gawl!" + +But there were some, the precious few, who graced the saloons of the +Clifton House, not to gorge themselves on its spicy viands, or grow +inebriate over its sparkling wines, or yet to display their spindling +limbs encased in miraculous tights, their alarming waistcoats and +elephantine fob-chains; but who had come to look on and admire the +wonderful cataract, with its surrounding scenery of wildness and +grandeur; who marked the elegant bearing of an accomplished lady in the +sweet open countenance, simple dress, and graceful movements of the "new +arrival." + +Florence seemed wholly regardless of the volleys of glances directed +toward her during the sumptuously-served dinner. She retired before +dessert, so great was her impatience of a nearer view of the sublime +spectacle visible from the piazzas of the Clifton House. + +On Table Rock she stood, with her father's arm cast protectingly around +her, and gazed, tremulous with intense emotion, on the tremendous sweep +of rushing waters over the mighty horse-shoe fall, down, down forever, +upon the floods that boiled and surged like fathomless seas of angry +foam in the depths below. Then she turned to the lofty American fall, +spanned by its brilliant rainbow, like the bright wing of the Spirit of +the Waters cast beauteously o'er her stupendous creation of power and +sublimity. + +Florence gazed till the shades of evening obscured the magnificent +scene, and then, clinging to her father's arm, returned to the hotel. On +gaining her room, she tossed off her bonnet and shawl and seized her +journal. + +"Are you not going to tea?" asked her father. + +"No," answered she, almost sharply. "I cannot so suddenly descend to the +actual, or come in so quick contact with the grossness of earth after +the god-like sublimity I have been contemplating." + +Her father called her a little enthusiast, and walked away. Left to +herself she drew forth her journal. + +"Eventful day!" she wrote. "I have stood among the mists of Niagara. +Fain would I voice the tumult flood of emotions that rushed over my soul +as I gazed on its wondrous sublimity: but language is impotent, and I am +weak,--weaker than usual; I think from reaction of my overstrained +powers. + +"I could lie down and weep like a tired child. The tremendous roar of +the mighty waters is in my ear as I write. O, Niagara, Niagara! what +henceforth will be to me the brightest scene our country can afford--for +I have looked on thee, and what is left me now?" + +She closed her book, and, stepping out on the piazza, leaned her arms +over the balustrade, and stood with her gaze riveted on the boiling +cataracts, now flashing like sheets of burnished silver in the soft +moonlight. While she was thus occupied a young lady approached and +accosted her. + +"You are just arrived at the Falls, I fancy," said she, with a pleasant +smile. + +"I arrived to-day," answered Florence, politely. + +"You do not know me," remarked the young lady; "but I think I have seen +you before." + +Florence gazed on the eloquent features, but she did not detect a +resemblance to any person she had ever known. + +"You have the advantage of me," she said; "I do not recollect you." + +"Probably not," returned the young lady; "but did you never reside in a +village called Wimbledon, at a beautiful mansion styled 'Summer House?'" + +"I have just come from there," said Florence, gazing with surprise in +the face of her fair interrogator. + +"So I thought," remarked the young lady, "and your name, excuse my +boldness, is Florence Howard. Mine is Ellen Williams. I once resided in +Wimbledon, and saw you several times at the village church. You, +probably, did not notice me, or, if you did, my features would be easily +forgotten. Not so yours. I recognized you the moment you entered the +dining hall. How do you like Niagara?" + +"O, I am charmed, spell-bound!" exclaimed Florence. "Its glorious +sublimity thrills to the centre of my soul." + +"Your enthusiasm reminds me of a young painter and poet we have had here +several weeks," said Miss Williams; "he left us only this morning. I was +down to the Suspension Bridge to-day, and read some verses he left in +pencil on the painted railings. His sketches of the Falls from different +points of view were very fine. He was very handsome, and had a sweet +name. I believe half the ladies were dead in love with him, but he never +bestowed a single encouraging glance on all their attempts to win his +favor." + +"Quite an insensible young man, I should think," said Florence, smiling. +"What did you say was his name?" + +"Lindenwood," returned Miss Williams. "I do not know whence he came, but +from some remote part of the country, I think." + +Florence heard none of the young lady's words after the name was +mentioned, and it is difficult to say into what awkwardness her emotion +might have betrayed her, had not her father appeared at this juncture +and called her to her room. She recollected herself sufficiently to bid +good-evening to Miss Williams as she hastened away leaning heavily on +her father's arm. + +Fastening her door, she dropped on a sofa, and exclaimed, "Alas, alas! +one day too late at Niagara." + + + + + CHAPTER XXIX. + + "Flow on forever in thy glorious robe + Of terror and of beauty. Yea, flow on, + Unfathomed and resistless! God hath set + His rainbow on thy forehead, and the cloud + Mantled around thy feet. + Methinks, to tint + Thy glorious features with our pencil's point, + Or woo thee to the tablet of a song, + Were profanation." + + +Early the following morning Florence was astir, begging her father to +take her to the Suspension Bridge. She hardly glanced at the magnificent +appearance of the Canada fall, as the sunbeams changed its floods of +spray into bright showers of diamonds. + +There she stood on the piazza, her cheeks flushed with vermilion, and +her dark eyes glowing with the animation and excitement within. + +"I cannot take you to the bridge till after breakfast," said her father, +in reply to her urgent appeals to set out immediately. + +"Must I wait so long?" said Florence dismally. + +While the father and daughter stood debating the point, Florence's +acquaintance of the preceding day appeared, attended by a handsome young +man, whom she introduced as her brother Edward. + +Major Howard recollected the Williams family, and seemed gratified to +renew his acquaintance. + +"Col. Malcome occupies your old residence," said he to the young man, as +they left the ladies to themselves and walked to the opposite side of +the piazza. + +After a pause, Florence asked her companion if she "had ever visited +Wimbledon since she left it." + +"No;" answered the young lady, "though I have often desired to do so. +There was a poor washerwoman there, who had a little boy about my own +age, in whom I took a childish interest, and I would like much to learn +something of his fate." + +"What was his name?" asked Florence. + +"Willie Danforth," said Miss Williams. + +"I know a washerwoman by the name of Dilly Danforth," returned Florence. + +"That is his mother." + +"I do not think she has a child," said Florence doubtfully. + +"Then he is dead!" said Miss Williams in a trembling voice. + +Florence pitied her emotion, and after a few moments said, "There is a +tall, graceful lad, I think they call Willie Greyson, who lives with the +strange forest-recluse, of whom you have heard, perhaps." + +"Greyson!" repeated Ellen; "that I have heard was Mrs. Danforth's maiden +name; but Willie was never called so; besides, why should he leave his +mother to dwell with a hermit? O, no; my Willie must be dead! I said, +when I left him, I should never see him again." And the gentle girl +wiped a tear from her sweet blue eye. + +The gentlemen now approached, and Major Howard invited the Williamses to +join them in their visit to the Suspension Bridge; but they had an +engagement with a party to visit Goat Island. Florence felt relieved to +hear this, for she preferred, for reasons of her own, to be attended by +no one but her father on the present excursion. They now descended to +the dining-hall, where an elegant breakfast was served. Florence ate but +a few tiny bits of a delicate crisp muffin, and sipped lightly at her +cup of fragrant Mocha. Her eager desire to gain the bridge destroyed all +relish for the dainty dishes spread in such variety and profusion before +her. At length her father announced a carriage in readiness. Hastily +folding a sheet of note-paper, and placing it in her pocket, she swung +her gold chain over her neck, to which was attached a richly-embossed +pencil, and followed him to the door. They were soon rolling away. + +Florence saw nothing till they gained the bridge,--frail, trembling +thing, thrown at such dizzy height above the wild, rushing river. Her +father asked if she would ride or walk over. She would walk, and he +ordered the driver to halt. Assisting her from the carriage, they +stepped upon the swaying fabric. Florence kept close to the railings, +though he cautioned her to walk in the centre, and called her attention +to the fine view of the falls in the distance. But she did not notice +them, and, pausing suddenly, drew the sheet of note-paper from her +pocket and commenced writing. + +"What are you doing?" said her father at length, noticing her head bowed +close to the railing. + +"Wait a moment and I'll tell you," said she. "There! I believe I have +them all correct now. Shall I read them to you?" + +"What are they?" asked he. + +"Verses. I found them written in pencil on this painted strip." + +"Are they worth reading?" inquired he, carelessly. + +"O, yes!" she returned, earnestly. "Very pretty, I think!" + +"Well, go on, then!" said he. + +She commenced in a low tone, which grew in depth and sweetness as she +proceeded. Surely, if the author had never had the vanity to deem his +brief production possessed of merit, he would have grown into conceit of +it had he heard it falling so sweetly from those half-tremulous lips. + + "Sea-green river, white and foamy, + Madly rushing on below; + While that fairy-looking fabric + Bends, and sways, and trembles so; + Fragile, frail and fairy fabric, + Boldly thrown so wildly high; + Wondrous work of art suspended + Midway 'twixt the earth and sky! + + "Strong and firm the metal wires + Stretch to Canada's green shores; + As to link with bands of iron + Queen Victoria's realms to ours. + Passage-way for England's lion, + Unborn ages may it be; + While above him, in the ether, + Sails the Eagle of the Free! + + "In the distance, dread Niagara, + Thing of wonder and of fear, + Pours its mighty flood of waters, + While the echoes soothe the ear. + Nature's wildest forms of beauty. + All around profusely thrown; + Bowing in her proudest temple, + Beggared Art, we humbly own!" + +As Florence ceased she refolded the paper and placed it in her pocket. + +"You did not read the author's name," said her father. + +"There was no name attached to them," answered she. "Nothing, only some +initials which were rather indistinct." + +"Some modest bard," remarked the major, as they retraced their steps to +the carriage, "who, as Byron says, + + 'Like many a bard unknown, + Rhymes on our names, but wisely hides his own.' + +This poet sings of bridges, but does not sign his name to his songs." + +Florence was silent during their drive to the hotel. Niagara seemed +suddenly to have lost its interest for her, and after a few more days +they departed, with young Williams and his lovable little sister in +their company. + + + + + CHAPTER XXX. + + "O, why should Heaven smile + On deeds of darkness--plots of sin and crime? + I cannot tell thee why, + But this I know, she often doeth so." + + +While the bright summer passed over Wimbledon, matters apparently moved +on as usual in the quiet little village. + +The Woman's Rights Reform lagged somewhat with the thermometer at +eighty, as is frequently the case with benevolent organizations; perhaps +because their zealous warmth, when increased by a high-temperatured +atmosphere, mounts to spirits' boil and evaporates. + +Mrs. Pimble and Mrs. Lawson sat on their respective piazzas, in nankin +pants and open waistcoats, and flapped great peacocks' tails to and fro, +to cool their feverish, perspiring brows. + +Mr. Pimble, in his wife's sun-bonnet, clappered his heelless slippers at +mid-day along the garden paths, in the vain hope of warming his laggard +blood to a brisker flow. Mrs. Dr. Simcoe was still harassed by those +snarling, ill-tempered brats, "Simcoe's children," who seemed +contagiously disposed to all the "ills which flesh is heir to," as if to +test the skill and try the patience of the lady M. D. + +One of the most brilliant moons that ever showered its silvery light +over a flower-covered earth, rode in the liquid zenith of a summer +heaven. The splendid grounds of Major Howard's princely mansion never +slept, in their luxuriant beauty, beneath a lovelier sky. Thick trailed +the heavy vines in their leafy exuberance of foliage over arbors and +green-houses. Whole parterres of brilliant flowers loaded the air with +fragrance, and nightingales sang among the boughs of the lindens that +waved against the wrought-iron palings of the terraces. + +Was there aught save the breath of love and peace abroad on the air +to-night? Dared a vile vulture of sin to brush with polluting wing over +the vines and flowers of these odor-breathing, beam-lighted gardens? + +There were low voices in one of the most obscure alcoves, and a man and +woman stood in close proximity in its dimmest recess. + +A low sigh or sob now and then escaped the woman, as though she +struggled to suppress some choking emotion. + +"Come," said the man at length, impatiently, "this blubbering will not +aid your purpose." + +"O, Herbert!" she exclaimed, in a tone which entreated compassion, "you +have ceased to love me." + +"Ceased to love you?" repeated he, with a low, ironical laugh, "I never +yet began." + +"You told me so," said she. + +"What if I did?" returned he; "is my veracity so immaculate that my +slightest word is received as an oath of probity? But I came not here to +keep a lover's tryst. You know, or at least I thought you knew, the bond +that unites us; and I ask you again if you will do my bidding and serve +my interests?" + +"I have done both," said the woman; "but you have not fulfilled your +promises to me." + +"Do you not see the boy when you choose?" + +"I see him, but he does not recognize me." + +"The better for you that he does not," returned the man. "Do you +suppose, with his position and prospects, he would acknowledge a low +serving-woman for a mother? He would kick her from his presence and +cover her with curses." + +"And do you never intend to tell him who is his mother?" asked the +woman, in a trembling tone. + +"Certainly not," answered he; "'tis not necessary the boy should know +his own disgrace; but when the proper moment arrives, there are those +who shall learn his parentage to their everlasting shame and +mortification." + +"I see no prospect of that moment's ever arriving," said the woman. +"Here's the girl and her father gone off, the Lord knows where, or +whether they will ever return, and all things left unfinished and +incomplete. I must say you manage as an idiot." + +"I will judge of my own management," said the man, fiercely. "There has +been sickness in my family, and other things have indisposed me to hurry +a revenge which will be the sweeter the longer 'tis delayed." + +"But it may be so long delayed as to fail altogether," suggested the +woman. + +"I'll take care of that," answered he. "I fancy I am not so great a +bungler as to overshoot my purposes and baffle my own designs; and, +woman," said he, raising his arm threateningly above her head, "I +caution you to beware. I believe you have already let drop some +unguarded words; else why is your mistress so averse to this engagement, +as I have learned she is, by the boy?" + +The woman was silent. He seized her arm fiercely. "Have you blabbed?" he +hissed in her ear. + +"No," answered she faintly, and struggling to free herself from his +grasp. + +"Has she no suspicions of my proximity?" he demanded. + +"None," returned the woman; "as I live she has none." + +"Then I would look on her a moment to-night." + +"That you can easily do," said she. "I left her sitting in a cushioned +seat, drawn close before an open casement, with the full moon shining on +her face." + +"A lucky position! I will show myself to her in a few minutes," he +remarked, as the twain parted. Hannah Doliver proceeded rapidly up the +garden avenue to the mansion, and hurried to the apartment of her +mistress. + +The invalid lady was sitting in the same position in which she had left +her an hour before. + +"You have been absent a long time, Hannah," she observed in a languid +tone. + +"I went as far as Col. Malcome's to learn if they had any recent +intelligence of Florence and her father," returned the woman, divesting +herself of bonnet and shawl. + +"Well, had he any tidings of them?" inquired the invalid. + +"At last accounts they were at Saratoga, intending in a few days to +start on a tour up the Hudson and St. Lawrence, to Quebec, and thence to +the mountain region of New Hampshire," answered the woman. + +"Florence wrote to me from Niagara," remarked the lady; "she seemed in +fine spirits. I wonder if she corresponds with Rufus Malcome?" + +"Of course," said Hannah; "a young lady would write to her affianced +husband, if she neglected all others." The invalid turned uneasily in +her chair at these words, and her waiting-woman went into an adjoining +apartment under pretence of performing some duty. + +The lady sat listlessly gazing on the lovely scene without, when a dark +object moving up the garden path attracted her notice, and directly the +figure of a man in black, with cap removed from a head of +closely-trimmed auburn hair that clustered in short, thick masses of +luxuriant curls around a high, pale brow, appeared before the casement, +and fixed a bold stare upon her face. No sooner did her eyes encounter +those that glared so fiercely upon her, than she uttered a piercing +shriek, and fell back in her chair with the appearance of one from whom +all life had departed. + +Hannah rushed into the room and bore the insensible form of her mistress +to the bed, where she commenced chafing her temples and pouring reviving +cordials down her throat. At length the frightened lady opened her eyes +and stared wildly around. + +"Secure that casement," said she, pointing to the still open window; +"and shut all the doors and lock them." + +"You will stifle without a breath of fresh air this oppressive night," +grumbled Hannah, as she proceeded to execute the orders of her mistress. + +"Better I should stifle," answered the excited and still trembling lady, +"than ever behold again the monster I have seen to-night." + +"Heavens! what do you mean?" exclaimed the attendant, appearing to +experience the greatest emotion. + +"I have seen _him_, Hannah Doliver," said the invalid, shuddering as she +spoke. + +"Who?" asked the hypocritical woman, breathlessly. + +"The destroyer of my happiness and your good fame," answered the lady. + +"Impossible!" said Hannah, glaring on the excited features of the +prostrate form before her. + +"I tell you I have seen him!" returned the invalid, shaking like an +aspen on her couch. "I cannot be mistaken. 'Twas his face; the high, +colorless brow, surrounded by thick, short auburn curls. He stood at +that casement, and gazed fiercely on me from his large, dark eyes." + +"Pshaw!" said Hannah, "'twas but a hideous dream, or a sudden attack of +apoplexy. The man you fancy you have seen to-night, has not been heard +of these fifteen years, and is probably in his grave." + +"Then it was his ghost that I saw," said the lady. + +"May be it was," returned Hannah, smiling strangely; "though I don't +know why it should have honored you with a visit. I am glad I was not +deemed worthy his ghostship's regards." + +The affrighted lady after a while grew calmer, and Hannah retired to her +own apartment, which joined that of her mistress. + +In a few days, a letter was despatched to Major Howard by the invalid, +informing him of the strange appearance which had alarmed her, and +urging his immediate return. + +The letter never reached its destination. + + + + + CHAPTER XXXI. + + "Ask why the holy starlight, or the blush + Of summer blossoms, or the balm that floats + From yonder lily like an angel's breath, + Is lavished on such men! God gives them all + For some high end; and thus the seeming waste + Of her rich soul--its starlight purity, + Its every feeling delicate as a flower, + Its tender trust, its generous confidence, + Its wondering disdain of littleness,-- + These, by the coarser sense of those around her + Uncomprehended, may not all be vain." + + +A jubilant party were assembled in Mrs. Leroy Edson's elegant parlors to +witness the marriage ceremony of Jenny Andrews and Richard Giblet. + +Even Mrs. Salsify, as one of the groom's former acquaintances, received +an invite to the bridal feast, and appeared in red morocco shoes and a +cap whose ruffles were the astonishment of the entire assembly. Mary +Madeline's squealing baby detained her at home, and perhaps, also, she +did not care to see her former lover, recreant and unfaithful though he +had been to her, take the solemn vow of eternal constancy to another. + +The party was more lively than wedding parties usually are. Mrs. Edson +was everywhere, gliding, like the spirit of grace and beauty, among her +guests, enlivening them by her humor, and spreading a rich glow of +geniality through the apartments. If she ever outshone herself, and +surpassed her own surpassing powers, it was to-night. Col. Malcome's +eyes followed her wherever she moved, with an undisguisable expression +of admiration. He seemed rather cast in the shade by her unwonted +brilliancy, and held himself aloof from her side for almost the entire +evening. + +Miss Martha Pinkerton noticed him sitting alone and abstracted on a +sofa, and her kind soul was moved with pity for his companionless +situation, so she resolved to cheer his solitude as well as she was +able. Approaching, she assumed a seat on the opposite side of the sofa. +She looked at him, hemmed, and coughed, but he did not seem to heed her +proximity. At length she resolved to speak. + +"Col. Malcome," she said, in her softest tone, "do you know you have +never called to take away the shirts you left for me to make more than +two years ago? I have often thought I would take them to you; but sister +Stanhope said I had better wait, as you would call when you wanted them. +I starched and ironed them all up nice for you; but I am sure the +stiffening is all out, and they are as yellow as saffron by this time." + +"Ay, Miss Pinkerton, you were very kind," answered he, bowing politely. +"I had forgot my call on your services entirely. I recollect now that I +contemplated a journey at that time, which circumstances prevented me +from undertaking, and that occasioned my forgetfulness of the package +probably. I will call soon and relieve you of it." + +"O, 'tis no burden," she answered; "I only thought I would speak to you +about it to let you know 'twas ready any time you might choose to call. +Don't you think the bride looks very beautiful?" she added, turning the +discourse to more elegant subjects now she had gained his ear. + +"Ay, quite interesting and pretty," answered he, turning his attention +for a moment toward the young couple who formed the centre of a mirthful +group. + +"Mrs. Edson seems to feel wonderful smart to-night," pursued Miss +Martha; "pleased with her success in match-making, I suppose." + +"Ah!" said the colonel, "does Mrs. Edson make matches? I wish she would +form one for me." + +The modest maiden blushed scarlet at these words, and remained silent. A +group was just passing, and the colonel effected his escape from his +fair companion and joined them. Several voices called for him at the +piano, and, seating himself before the instrument, he commenced a +brilliant performance. In a few moments he became conscious of the form +of Louise standing in the embrasure of a window near by, her whole soul +apparently absorbed in the music. When he arose she had disappeared. He +sauntered slowly to the hall door, and stepped forth upon the piazza. As +he paced slowly down its marble length he came suddenly upon her, +leaning languidly against a vine-covered column. + +"Why do you fly your guests?" asked he; "they will soon grow dim without +your presence." + +"Because I am weary and dispirited," answered Louise, "and want quiet +and fresh air." + +"Dispirited!" exclaimed he; "I have never seen you so startlingly +brilliant as to-night." + +She shook her bright head mournfully. The hilarious voices from the +merry groups within came full upon their ears. + +"Walk with me a few moments in the cool quiet of the garden," said he; +"here the air comes heavy and tainted from the crowded apartments +within." + +She placed her arm passively in his, and they passed down the steps and +entered the shady paths. + +"I marvel to find you so moody and glum," he remarked, after they had +proceeded some distance in perfect silence, "when you have been so +unusually gay through the evening." + +She made no answer. + +"Let us return to the house," said he at length. + +"What for?" she asked, turning her clear eyes quickly on his face. + +"Because you do not enjoy your company," he answered. + +"No, that is not the reason," said she; "'tis because you are weary of +my presence." + +"Weary of your presence!" repeated he. "Louise, you don't believe your +own words. May I stay here at your side till I wish to go away?" + +"Certainly," answered she. + +"Then let me put my arm around you," said he, encircling her waist, "and +lay your dear head here, and you are mine henceforth, for I shall never +leave you." + +For a moment her tearful face was hidden on his bosom. + +A low wailing wind swept through the shrubbery that surrounded them, and +one single word, thrilling and awful, as if it fell from the lips of an +accusing spirit, smote on their ears--'_Beware_!' + +Louise started from the arm that encircled her and fled toward the +lighted mansion. The party were still occupied in the merry dance, and +no one seemed to have marked her brief absence. + + + + + CHAPTER XXXII. + + ------"Ye mountains, + So varied and so terrible in beauty; + Here in your rugged majesty of rocks + And toppling trees that twine their roots with stone + In perpendicular places, where the foot + Of man would tremble could he reach them--yes, + Ye look eternal!" + + +Cloud-capped, sky-crowned, mist-mantled, storm-defying Mount Washington! +O, there have been days, and weeks, and months and years, when life's +legion woes pressed heavily upon our souls and bowed our spirits in the +dust; when we dared not glance toward the past, or contemplate the +present, and turned with shuddering dread from the future of starless, +impenetrable gloom; and in those doleful years, through long, long +nights of sleepless pain and agony we have prayed, entreated, implored +grim death to come and ease us of the thorny pangs that tore our +bleeding hearts like venomed arrows. But now on reverent knee we thank +the God of nature, that he has let us live to stand upon thy +sky-piercing summit and look down on the world below! Wild Switzerland +of America! thrice proud are we to call thy granite mountains ours, for +beneath thy snow-capped summits our young existence dawned, and thy +shrill winds and stormy blasts rolled forth the sleeping anthems that +lulled our infant slumbers. + +To this wild mountain region came Florence Howard, after luxuriating on +the picturesque Hudson, and dreaming herself in elysian realms among the +"thousand isles" of the queenly St. Lawrence. She was all life and +animation. The excitement of travel and vivid enjoyment of the beautiful +and sublime had banished every trace of the dejection and gloom which +had for many months obscured her brilliancy. Major Howard was delighted +with the improvement in his daughter's appearance, and seemed almost as +young and buoyant as she. Young Williams and his sister were their +constant companions in travel, and Florence found in Ellen a gentle +nature and affectionate heart. + +A storm set in on the night of our party's arrival at the Crawford +House, and heavy clouds settled down over the brows of the great +mountains that hemmed in the narrow valley. The hotel was thronged with +visitors, and the new comers had to accept of such accommodations as two +small rooms in the upper story could afford. + +"I declare," exclaimed Ellen, when the porters had brought in the +trunks, thrown back the fastenings, and retired, "after rackings, and +tossings, and tumblings enough to disjoint and unhinge a leviathan, to +what a comfortless haven are we arrived at last! O, for a tithe of the +luxury I rolled in at Niagara and Saratoga, or even one of the +state-rooms of the 'Hendrick Hudson' or 'Belle of the Waters!' They were +rooms of state indeed compared with these dismal little pens. How are we +going to turn round in them, Florence, much less unload our trunks of +their wardrobes and array ourselves for appearance in the parlors and +dining saloon?" + +"Dear me!" answered Florence, as she stood before the window, blowing +her benumbed fingers, "I don't think we shall have any occasion to open +our trunks, for there is not a frock in mine I could venture to put on, +unless I was willing to be frozen to death within the hour." + +"But what are we to do?" said Ellen, approaching the other window and +gazing forth on the dark, stormy evening, that was rapidly closing in +around them. Nothing could be seen beyond the small circle of the valley +in which the house stood, save dense clouds of fog and mist. The rain +poured like a second deluge, and terrific winds roared, and shrieked, +and bellowed like infuriate spirits of the rushing storm. + +"What geese we have made of ourselves, Florence!" resumed Ellen, after +she had gazed in silence a few moments on the gloomy prospect presented +to her eyes; "jamming into crowded, uncomfortable coaches, and bruising +and battering our flesh and bones to jelly, all to reach this wonderful +abode of grandeur and sublimity. What 'Alps on Alps' we expected would +tower before our astonished visions! But here we are, sunk in a dismal +abyss on the extreme northern verge of civilization, and never a +mountain to be seen, or anything else save great lowering clouds that +threaten to fall and crush us yet deeper into the earth." + +"If I could only get to see the mountains, I would not mind all the +discomfitures," said Florence, peering into the growing blackness +without. + +"I tell you there are no mountains," said Ellen, growing impatient in +her disappointment. + +"O, yes," returned Florence; "I think there must be a few somewhere in +the vicinity." + +"Then why can't we see them?" demanded Ellen. + +"They are hidden by the clouds, I suppose," said Florence. "I am told +Mount Washington is veiled in their fleecy mantles for weeks sometimes." + +"No doubt it will be thus obscured during our visit," said Ellen, quite +petulantly. + +A knock on the door here called their attention. Florence opened it, and +beheld her father, "Well, girls," said he, rubbing his hands, "what do +you think of the White Mountains?" + +"When we have seen them we shall be better prepared to give an opinion," +said Florence. + +"For my part, I don't believe in them at all," said Ellen quickly. + +Major Howard laughed heartily at this pertly announced conviction of the +non-existence of the wonderful summits they had come to behold, and said +he trusted, "when the storm was over, the elephants would show their +terrible heads." + +"But are not you half frozen?" asked he, his teeth chattering as he +spoke; "pray come down in the parlors; you will find them warm and +filled with guests." + +"We cannot go in our travelling garbs," said Ellen, "and there's no +opportunity here, as you see, to open our trunks." + +"Never mind your dark dresses," returned he; "you will not find the +gossamer fabrics that deck the belles of Saratoga in fashion here. The +fair creatures, however much in defiance of their wishes, are obliged to +conceal their white arms and shoulders in thick warm coverings." + +"We would be very glad to do so," said Florence; "but unfortunately our +wardrobes were prepared for a temperate, instead of a frigid zone." + +"Well, you will do very well as you are to-night; there are a score of +ladies just arrived, all round the parlor fires, in their travel-stained +garbs; so come on," said he, "and don't be bashful. You will hear the +conversation of those who have passed half the summer in this region, +and perhaps Ellen may come to believe in old Mount Washington." + +"I shall never believe in it till I have seen it with my own eyes," +returned the fair girl, as she and Florence, under the escort of Major +Howard, descended the flights of stairs to the parlor. + +As they entered, a hum of voices struck their ears from every side. +There was a group of ladies and gentlemen round the fire, and several of +them vacated their seats for the convenience of the new comers. A large +woman with a very red face remained in one corner and a young girl sat +by her side. + +"Have you just arrived?" asked the former of Florence; who was nearest +her. + +"Yes, madam," returned Florence, respectfully. + +"Well, it is a dismal time for strangers to make their advent, though +the largest arrivals most always occur on such nights as this," said the +fleshy woman, who had rather a pleasant manner, and would have been very +good-looking, Florence thought, but for the rough redness of her +complexion. + +"Are such storms frequent here?" inquired Ellen, in a dubious tone. + +"Not very," answered the portly lady. "I have been here six weeks, and +have not witnessed so severe a one hitherto. I think myself rather +unfortunate to have been exposed to its severity all day." + +Ellen and Florence looked surprised, and the lady continued: "Myself and +daughter joined a large party that ascended the mountains yesterday. We +had a tedious time. I lost my veil, and my face was frozen by exposure +to the biting blasts. The storm came on so furiously we were obliged to +send our horses back by the guides and remain all night." + +"What!" exclaimed Ellen, "remain all night on the top of a mountain +exposed to a storm like this! Why did you not all perish?" + +"O, we had shelter, and a good one!" returned the lady. + +"Where was it? In caves of rocks, or on cold, wet turfs beneath reeking +branches of lofty pines?" asked Ellen. + +"Not in caves," answered the lady, "and certainly not on grassy turfs, +or beneath trees of any variety; for old Mount Washington's bleak summit +cannot boast the one or the other." + +"What can it boast, then?" inquired Ellen; "wolves and catamounts, that, +together with its shrieking winds, make night hideous?" + +"Not wolves, or animals of any species," returned the lady, shaking her +head; "but of huge masses of granite boulders, gray and moss-grown, +heaped in gigantic piles, that eternally defy the blasts and storms of +the fiercest boreal winters." + +"O, what a grand thing it must be to stand on its summit!" exclaimed +Florence, with glistening eyes. + +"It is, indeed," said the lady, "though I have been pelted by the +merciless storm all day, which added fresh difficulties to the descent, +and still suffer much from my poor, frozen cheeks, I do not for a moment +regret my journey. I suppose you young ladies intend to ascend?" + +"I do," said Ellen. "If there is anything here worth seeing, I wish to +see it, after all the fatigue and trouble of getting here." + +"O, well," returned the lady, "I assure you there is enough to see. I +have been here, as I have already informed you, six weeks, and some new +wonder bursts upon me every day. You are a little disappointed from +having been so unfortunate as to arrive on this gloomy evening, when +even the nearest views are obscured by clouds. But the guides predict a +splendid day to-morrow. I am sure you will be delighted in the morning +when you rise and behold the great clouds rolling away their heavy +masses and revealing the broad, dark summits of the mountains that hem +in this grassy valley. I shall watch to see you dance into the breakfast +hall in buoyant spirits." + +With a pleasant good-evening the lady retired. Florence and Ellen soon +followed. In the upper space they met Major Howard and young Williams, +who were hastening to join them in the parlor. + +"Well, sis," said Edward, "Major Howard tells me you vote the White +Mountains all humbug." + +"I think Ellen is growing less sceptical," said Florence, "since she has +conversed with a lady who has just descended from their summits." + +"O, yes, Nell, there's a Mount Washington, sure as fate," returned +Edward, "and we must ascend its craggy steeps to-morrow; so retire, and +get a refreshing rest to be ready for the fatiguing excursion in the +morning." + + + + + CHAPTER XXXIII. + + "Come over the mountains to me, love, + Over to me--over to me; + My spirit is pining for thee, love, + Pining for thee--pining for thee!" + + SONG. + + +The sun rose bright above the mountains of the Crawford Notch on the +following morning, and illuminated with his brilliant rays all the green +valley below. Each member of the large party that proposed to ascend +Mount Washington was at an early hour mounted on a strong-built pony, +and led by a guide into the bridle-path which commenced in the woods at +the base of Mount Clinton. Our little band of travellers were foremost +in the file, Florence and Ellen in the greatest glee of laughter and +spirits. + +The whole ascent of Clinton was through a dense forest, over a rough, +uneven path, constructed of small, round timbers, called "corduroys." +They were in a rotted, dilapidated condition, and unpleasant as well as +dangerous to ride over. + +Emerging from the woods that covered Clinton, the surrounding mountains +began to appear; and from the grassy plain on the summit of Mount +Pleasant, a view was obtained which called forth rapturous shouts from +the whole company. + +The descent of Pleasant was tedious. All the ladies were obliged to +dismount, as the path was very rough, and often almost perpendicular +over precipitous rocks, while the frightful chasm that yawned far below +caused many of the adventurers to grow giddy and pale with fear. + +Ellen, who was rather timid, began to wish she had remained in the +valley, and continued to disbelieve in mountains; but Florence was all +exhilaration and eagerness to push onward. + +Mount Franklin towered next before them. As Florence, who was among the +foremost, reached its summit, she turned on her pony, and gazed down on +the little cavalcade, winding along up the narrow, precipitous path in +single file, with the guides hurrying from one bridle to another, as a +more difficult and dangerous place occurred in the rough way. And she +thought of Napoleon leading an army over the mighty Alps, and how +dauntless and sublime must be the soul of a man who could successfully +accomplish an enterprise so fraught with perilous hazard and +disheartening fatigue. + +As the little company wound their way over the unsheltered brow of Mount +Franklin, tremendous blasts swept down from the summits above, and +threatened to unseat them in their saddles, or hurl the whole party over +the fearful gulfs that yawned on every side. The guides collected the +band together and informed them half their journey was completed. Many a +face grew blank with dismay at this announcement. The weather wore a +less promising aspect than when they set out, and the winds pierced them +through and through. Several proposed to turn back. The guides said +there was about an even chance for the clouds to blow over or gather +into a storm, and the party could settle the point among themselves +whether they would turn back or go on. + +A gentleman, with features so muffled she could not discover them, rode +to the side of Florence, and said, in a voice she could barely +distinguish among the clamorous winds that howled over the mountain, "Do +you favor the project of returning tamely to the valley and leaving +Mount Washington a wonder unrevealed?" + +"No!" answered she, from beneath her thick veil; the muscles of her face +so stiffened with cold she could hardly move her lips. + +"Then ride your pony to the centre of these dissenting groups and +propose to move on," said he. "There are none in the party so +craven-souled as to shrink from what a lady dares encounter." + +Florence paused a moment, and then guided her pony into the midst of the +company. + +"Do you wish to join those who are going back, Miss?" said a guide, +taking hold of her bridle-rein. + +"No!" said she in a tone of decision. "I'll lead the way for those who +choose to follow to the summit of Mount Washington." + +"Bravo!"--"hurrah!"--"let us on!"--burst from all sides. Three solitary +ones, among them Ellen Williams, turned back, and the others formed into +file and moved onward. Down Mount Franklin and over the narrow path cut +in the cragged side of Monroe, where a single misstep would hurl the +horse and rider down a fathomless abyss, into whose depths the eye dares +hardly for a moment gaze. Then appeared a crystal lakelet, and a little +plain covered with a seedy-looking grass, where the horses rested and +refreshed themselves ere the last desperate trial of their strength and +endurance; for the weary band of adventurers had reached at last the +base of the mighty Washington, whose summit was veiled in heavy clouds. +As they loitered in the plain, the muffled gentleman again approached +Florence, and inquired if she was unattended. + +"No, sir," said she. "My father is among the party, also a friend; but +they are not yet come up." + +He lingered a moment, and then asked if she would like to dismount. + +As the voice met her ear more distinctly, it struck her it had a +familiar sound, and a sudden thought flashed across her mind. She +thanked him for his politeness, but said she was too cold to move. + +Her father and young Williams now appeared. "How do you brave it, +Florence?" said Major Howard, drawing in his breath with a shudder. + +"Very well, father," answered she. + +When the muffled gentleman heard the name Florence pronounced, he +started suddenly and darted a swift glance on the speaker. Then turning +away, he remounted his steed and rode into the front ranks of the line +that was forming. Soon the band commenced their toilsome ascent. The +path wound over perpendicularly-piled masses of gigantic granite +boulders. Often it seemed the poor tired animals, with their utmost +efforts, would never be able to surmount the prodigious rocks that +obstructed their way. Cold, blustering clouds of mists drove in the +faces of the forlorn little party as they labored up and up the +precipitous steeps, till it seemed to many a despairing heart that the +summit of that tremendous mountain would never, never be gained. So +densely hung the threatening clouds around them, they could not tell +their distance from the wished-for goal. At length the guides halloed to +the foremost rider to halt; and directly Florence felt herself in the +arms of a strong man, who sprang over the craggy rocks with surprising +agility, and soon placed her on the door-stone of a small habitation, +which was not only "founded on a rock," but surrounded on all sides by +huge piles of gray granite boulders. + +In a few moments the whole dripping, half-frozen party were landed +safely at the "Summit House," on the brow of Mount Washington. Great was +their joy to find a comfortable shelter where they might rest and warm +their chilled limbs; but great also was their dismay to find a storm +upon them, and nothing visible from the miraculous height they had +toiled to gain, but the wet rocks lying close beneath the small windows. + + + + + CHAPTER XXXIV. + + "But these recede. Above me are the Alps, + The palaces of Nature, whose vast walls + Have pinnacled in clouds their snowy scalps, + And throned Eternity in icy halls + Of cold sublimity, where forms and falls + The avalanche, the thunderbolt of snow! + All that expands the spirit, yet appals, + Gather around these summits, as to show + How earth may pierce to heaven, yet leave vain man below." + + CHILDE HAROLD. + + +A calm, beautiful morning succeeded a night of terrors. O, is there in +all the world a grander sight than sunrise on Mount Washington? + +The first faint rays breaking gradually through clouds of mist, and +dimly revealing the outlines of surrounding peaks; then long, bright +streams, piercing the gloomy depths of the valleys, chasing gigantic +shadows, like spirits of light contending with the legions of darkness; +and, at length, the whole immense sea of mountains brought into majestic +view, with their unnumbered abysmal valleys covered with forests of +every intermingled variety and shade of green. + +Florence Howard separated herself from the remaining portion of the +party, and stood alone on the topmost summit, leaning on the moss-grown +side of a granite boulder, gazing in rapt awe and wonder on the awful +sublimity that opened rapidly to her view. Thin, fringy clouds of mist, +white and silvery in the growing light, were flying over the dark sides +of the mountains, resting a moment in the valleys, and then +disappearing, as a dusky form approached the spot where Florence stood. + +"We meet again, Miss Howard;" said a voice at her side, low, and deep +with emotion. + +"And above the clouds, Edgar;" answered she, turning toward him, her +face radiant as an angel's in the intensity of the emotions which +overawed her soul. "Could we have met so well in any other place as +here, with earth and its turmoils all below, and only the free blue dome +of heaven above our head?" + +"Are you glad to have met me here?" asked he, gazing sadly on her +expressive features. + +"Can you ask?" said she. "And this is the only spot where I could have +rejoiced to meet you now, for here you will be Edgar to me, and may I +not be Florence to you?" she added, lifting her clear, liquid eyes with +beseeching earnestness to his face. + +He could not withstand this gentle appeal, this touching expression. +Softly his arm stole round her slender waist. She placed her little hand +lightly on his shoulder, and laid her head with confiding tenderness on +his bosom. + +O, what was Mount Washington in his glory then? What the whole boundless +prospect that spread its sublime immensity before them? Their eyes +looked only in each other's hearts, and they were warm--O, how warm with +love, and hope, and happiness! Mount Washington was cold. They felt a +pity for its great, insensate piles of granite, that loomed up there to +heaven, cold, bare and stony, void of power to feel and sympathize with +human emotions. Wandering to a sheltered nook among the rocks they sat +down together. + +An hour passed by, during which each member of the little party was +intently occupied with his own delighted observations, and then Major +Howard recollected the absence of his daughter, who had left his side, +saying she wished to contemplate the sublime spectacle apart from the +rest of the company. Gazing over the cragged summit, he beheld her +approaching with a gentleman at her side. + +"Ay, my little truant," said he, advancing to meet her. "So you tired of +your solitary contemplation, after all." + +"I found this fair lady roaming among the rocks, and ventured to escort +her to the party," said the gentleman, bowing politely, as he delivered +Florence to the care of her father. + +"Thank you, thank you, sir," returned Major Howard, casting a +scrutinizing glance toward the young man as he turned away. + +"My daughter, what do you think of this scene?" he asked, turning to +her. + +The glowing happiness, which lighted her features with almost +supernatural beauty, astonished him. + +"That I have never seen aught so awfully grand and majestic before," +returned she, in a tone of wild enthusiasm. + +"Does it surpass Niagara?" + +"Infinitely," answered she. "Niagara is grand, but it is a single, +solitary grandeur. Here, our vision encompasses a boundless expanse of +dread, terrific sublimities; a sea of towering Alpine summits on every +hand, with fearfully-yawning gulfs and chasms; tremendous precipices, +over whose dizzy edges, as we look down, and down, and down into the +abysmal depths of bright green valleys, starred over with tiny white +cottages, and graced with winding rivers and waving fields of grain, we +mark the dark straight lines of unnumbered railways, with their flying +trains of cars; countless sheets of water flashing like molten silver; +the spires and domes of numerous hamlets, villages, and cities; and, far +in the distance, the broad Atlantic's dark blue surface, jotted over +with white gleaming sails. O, father, father!" she exclaimed, almost +wild with her emotions of awe and admiration, "is there in all the world +a spectacle to equal that which feasts our vision now?" + +"It is a grand scene," said the father, participating in his daughter's +vivid enjoyment. "Look far on those blue summits that bound the prospect +to the west and north. Those singularly-formed peaks you notice are +called Camel's Rump and Mansfield mountains." + +"Would I might forever dwell here!" exclaimed Florence, her eyes roaming +in every direction, as though her soul could never drink its fill of the +sublimity around. + +Perhaps other delights than the scenery would afford rose in bright +anticipation, and caused her to utter this strange, wild wish. + +"You forget the awful winters, Florence, when you would perish beneath +the sky-piled snows," said her father. + +"O, I would not mind them!" she answered. "I'd have a little habitation, +hidden down among the rocks, where I could sit by a cosey fire and +listen to the billowy blasts that swept over my home in the clouds." + +"Alone, Florence?" asked her father. "Would you dwell alone in a place +so wild with terrors?" + +"O, no!" said she quickly. "I would have one companion." + +"And who should that be?" + +"The one I loved best on earth," replied she, turning her clear eyes on +her father's face. + +"And that is"----he paused, and added, interrogatively, "Rufus Malcome?" + +Florence started. Her features suddenly lost their glowing light, and +darkened into a contemptuous frown. + +"Don't breathe that name here!" she exclaimed, almost fiercely. "It is +not worthy to be spoken in the air of God's own taintless purity." + +Her father gazed with astonishment and pity. He had fancied the +repugnance and dislike she formerly evinced toward her affianced husband +was dissipated or forgotten in the multiplied excitements and varieties +of travel; and great was his regret and sorrow to find it still rankling +in her bosom. Both stood silent several moments, engaged in their own +thoughts and emotions. At length several voices exclaimed gleefully, +"The ponies, the ponies are coming!" + +Major Howard glanced downwards, and beheld the long line of riderless +horses, attended by the guides, slowly wending their way around the +shelving, precipitous side of Mount Monroe. The company collected +together and agreed to set out and meet them; so, returning to the hotel +among the rocks, they partook of a finely-prepared lunch, and, wrapping +warmly in shawls and blankets went forth on their hard, laborious way, +down the steep path of cragged rocks. Sometimes their feet lighted on a +sharp projection, or by a misstep they fell among the stony piles, +bruising and wrenching their flesh and bones. But, notwithstanding all +the fatigues and hardships of the way, the party were in jubilant +spirits. As the prospect narrowed with the descent, they were all taking +a last look at the disappearing wonders, and shouting their earnest +farewells. + +At the "Lake of the Clouds" they halted and drank of its cold, crystal +waters. The ponies were feeding on the plain, and the party gladly +mounted and commenced their long, toilsome descent. + +As the shades of evening were falling, their safe arrival in the valley +was hailed by assembled groups on the piazzas of the Crawford House. + + + + + CHAPTER XXXV. + + "Love thee! words have no meaning to my deep love; + It hath purged me from the weakness of my sex, + And made me new create in thee. Love thee! + I had not lived until I knew thee." + + +On arriving at the hotel, Florence retired to her room, which she found +vacant, and learned Ellen had joined a party on an excursion to Mount +Willard, one of the loftiest peaks of the Crawford Notch, to whose +summit there is a carriage road. + +She drew forth her journal, and, sitting down beside the window, +commenced to write. + +Nimbly the golden pen sped over the spotless page, leaving a train of +sprightly thoughts behind it, while the bright face glowed and sparkled +with the buoyant happiness of the soul within. + +"I feel like one just dropped from the clouds," she wrote, "and I should +be inconsolable at my sudden descent from the august abode of eternal +sublimities to the grovelling haunts of care and discontent, but that a +sun-soaring spirit companioned and illumined my fall. + +"I have stood above the clouds that swept the brows of lofty surrounding +mountains, and seen _that star of mine_ rise sweet and clear upon my +earnest vision, and felt my long-chilled heart grow warm and glad +beneath its beaming rays of light and love. I toiled up the miraculous +steeps of hoary-headed, granite-crowned Mount Washington, to realize a +double joy. The stern, gloomy grandeur was alone sufficient to awaken my +profoundest awe, my strongest admiration; but a warm heart-happiness +stole over me, which spread a mantling glory over all the thousand +dark-browed mountains that loomed in their awful majesty on every side. + +"And ever, till my heart has ceased to beat, though I should roam in +foreign lands, along the castled Rhine, or beneath the sunny skies of +classic Italy, Mount Washington will be to me the glory of the earth! +For, standing on its granite piles, while sunrise pierced the gloomy +valleys far below, a love nestled warmly to my bosom, with which I would +not part for India's wealth of gems. How rich am I in the knowledge of +Edgar's love! My soul is strong and firm as the mountains where my joy +was born. Shall I ever tremble or waver again? Am I not mailed in armor +to meet unshocked the battling swords and lances of life's armied +legions of cares and sorrows? With Edgar's love to nerve my soul, what +is there that I cannot endure? Surely, I could survive all things save +separation from him; and is not this the one which will be demanded of +my strength? + +"But I will not mar my happiness by dark forebodings of the future. Let +me enjoy the sunshine while it lasts. What shall I say to my +father?--what will he say to me when he learns who was the companion of +my lonely mountain stroll, and the rider at my bridle-rein during all +the long, dangerous descent? I fear he will be angry and hurry me away +immediately; and yet, with his discrimination, I think he must discern +the vast superiority of Edgar Lindenwood to that low-bred, mean-souled +Malcome. + +"But it is time this record should end, for twilight approaches, and the +shadows of the great mountains darken over the valley." + +She closed her journal just as Ellen Williams, returned from her +excursion, burst into the room. She flung her arms around Florence, and +covered her with frantic kisses. + +"O, I am so glad to have you safely back!" she exclaimed; "I feared I +should never behold you again. How did you live through a night like +last on that dreadful mountain-top?" + +"We had a comfortable shelter," said Florence, returning her friend's +warm embraces. + +"Did you wish you were down here in the valley, when the awful storm +overtook you?" + +"No, indeed," answered Florence; "my courage rose above all +difficulties. O, Ellen! you know not what you lost, when, chilled by the +blasts that swept Mount Franklin, you grew discouraged and turned back." + +"So Ned tells me," said Ellen; "but I saw sublimity enough from Mount +Willard to fill my little soul with rapture, though I had no +artist-companion at my side to point out the grandest views to my +untaught vision." + +Here she fixed an arch glance on Florence, who blushed slightly as she +said: + +"I do not understand your quizzical looks." + +"Probably not," returned Ellen, in a pleasant, bantering tone; "and if I +should tell you Mr. Lindenwood, the young artist of whom I spoke to you +at Niagara, had made his appearance in these regions, no doubt you would +express appropriate surprise at the information. However, your father +has been impressed with his appearance, and sought an introduction. I +saw them in the parlor but a moment since, engaged in conversation." + +"Is it possible?" said Florence, her eyes lighting with pleasure. + +"Why, very possible," returned Ellen, "and they seemed mutually pleased +with each other. Come, let us make ready and go down. I promised Ned to +return in five minutes." + +The young ladies descended to the parlor, where Florence beheld her +father standing before a table, with Edgar at his side, examining a +volume of engravings. + +She approached softly, when Major Howard turned, and introduced his +companion as "Mr. Lindenwood, a former acquaintance of hers, who was +visiting the mountains for the purpose of sketching views, and obtaining +geological specimens." + +Florence saw at once, by her father's words and manner, that he did not +suspect Edgar's identity with the muffled figure which had been her +companion on the mountains; and, bowing politely, expressed her +"pleasure at again meeting Mr. Lindenwood." + +Ellen and her brother joined them, and the evening passed in pleasant +rehearsals of the wonders and adventures of their late expedition to the +"realms of upper air." + +As Major Howard led his daughter to the door of her apartment, he +remarked: "That young Lindenwood is a fine fellow. I declare, I never +thought that wild hermit's boy would grow into a refined, polished +gentleman. You hardly recognized him, did you, Florence?" + +"He is very much changed in his appearance," said she, briefly. + +"Certainly he is," returned her father; "one seldom meets a handsomer +fellow. He tells me there is a great deal of fine scenery through a +place called the Franconia Notch. He is going there in a few days to +complete some sketches. I think we will join him: now we are here, we +may as well see all there is to be seen;--unless you wish to go home," +he added, finding his daughter silent in regard to the proposed +excursion. + +"I wish to go home?" exclaimed she, suddenly; "if you remain here till +that time comes, your head will be white as the snows of these northern +winters." + +Laughing at her enthusiasm for mountains, he kissed her cheek and +retired. + + + + + CHAPTER XXXVI. + + "Most wondrous vision! The broad earth hath not, + Through all her bounds, an object like to thee, + That travellers e'er recorded. Nor a spot + More fit to stir the poet's phantasy; + Grey Old Man of the Mountain, awfully + There, from thy wreath of clouds thou dost uprear + Those features grand,--the same eternally! + Lone dweller 'mid the hills! with gaze austere + Thou lookest down, methinks, on all below thee here." + + +At the Flume House, three weeks later, we find our little party of +travellers, all in apparently fine spirits and delighted enjoyment of +the wild, enchanting scenery of the Franconia Notch. + +"Well, Lindenwood, what do you intend to show us next?" asked Major +Howard, as the group disposed themselves on the sofas of their own +private parlor for an evening of rest and quiet, after a day passed in +visits to different objects in the vicinity. "I declare these mountains +will exhaust me entirely, and I shall be obliged to go away without +beholding one half of their alleged wonders." + +Young Williams laughed and said, "You are not half as good a traveller +as your daughter, major. Instead of looking worn and fatigued by her +repeated rambles, she seems more fresh and blooming than on our first +arrival." + +"Yes," returned the father, looking affectionately on his daughter, "she +thrives wonderfully on mountains. I recollect, when we stood on the +freezing summit of Washington, she expressed a wish to burrow among its +rocks and pass a life-time there, listening to the winds o' nights, and +other like charming diversions." + +"I did not think her disposition so solitary," remarked young Williams. + +"O, she was not going to dwell alone! She wanted one companion to share +her habitation. I don't know who it was,--perhaps you were the doomed +one!" + +"I dare not presume to think Miss Florence would select me for a doom so +blissful," returned he, gallantly. "Her choice would fall on some of my +more fortunate neighbors." + +"Rather say _un_fortunate," said Florence, coloring; "for in that light +I think most people would regard the prospect of a life passed amid the +clouds and storms of Mount Washington." + +"Would you thus regard it, Lindenwood?" inquired young Williams, turning +his gaze upon Edgar. + +"I don't know," returned the latter. "It might prove an agreeable +summer-home; but I think I would want to fly away on the approach of +winter." + +Major Howard drew forth his guide-book and occupied himself turning over +the pages a few moments. + +"We have achieved the Flume, the Pool, and the Basin to-day," said he at +length. "Say, Lindenwood, where shall we go to-morrow? You are the +pioneer of the band." + +"I have thought, should the day prove fine," answered he, "it would be +pleasant to make an excursion to the summit of Mount Lafayette, or the +'Great Haystack' mountain, as it is sometimes called, which lies several +miles west from this point." + +"More mountains towering before us! When shall we have done with them?" +said the major, in a lugubrious tone. "How high is this Haystack you +speak of?" + +"But seven hundred feet less than Mount Washington," answered Edgar. + +"O dear!" groaned the major. "Heaven save me from attempting the +ascension! Can we do nothing better than tear our clothes and bruise our +shins among brushwood and bridle-paths; clambering up to the sky just to +stare about us a few moments, and then tumbling down headlong, as it +were, to the valleys again?" + +"Well," said Edgar, "if the Great Haystack intimidates you, suppose we +ride up through the Notch, and visit the 'Old Man.'" + +"What old man?" asked the major. + +"The Old Man of the Mountain!" + +"I should have no objection to calling on the old fellow," returned +Major Howard, "if he did not live on a mountain; but I cannot think of +climbing up any more of these prodigious steeps,--even to see a king in +his regal palace." + +A burst of laughter followed the major's misapprehension of the object +which Lindenwood had proposed to visit. + +"It is not a man of flesh and blood we are to see, father," said +Florence, as soon as she could command her voice sufficiently to speak, +"but a granite profile, standing out from a peak of solid rock, exactly +resembling the features of a man's face; whence its name, 'Old Man of +the Mountain.'" + +"Ay, that's all, then!" said the major, referring to his guidebook. "I +shall be very glad of the privilege of standing on the ground for once +and looking up at an object; for I confess it afflicts my +kindly-affectioned nature to be forever looking down upon this goodly +earth, as if in disdainful contempt of its manifold beauties. So, +to-morrow, ladies and gentlemen," added he, rising, "we are to pay our +respects to this 'Old Man.' I hear music below. You young people would +like to join the merry groups, I suppose. I'm going down to the office +to enjoy a cigar, and then retire, for my old bones are sadly racked +with the jaunts of to-day. Good-night to you all." Thus saying, he +walked away. + +"Would you like to join the dancers, Ellen?" asked Florence, turning to +the fair girl who sat in a rocking-chair by the window, gazing out on +the moon-lit earth. + +"I don't care to join the dance," she returned; "but I would like to go +and listen to the music a while." + +"Then let us go," said her brother; "that is, if agreeable to Miss +Florence and Mr. Lindenwood." + +"I shall be happy to accompany you, Miss Howard," said he, offering +Florence his arm, which she accepted, and the party descended to the +parlors. They were well-lighted, and filled with guests. Edward and +Ellen soon became exhilarated by the music, and joined the cotillons. +Edgar looked in vain for a vacant sofa, and at length asked Florence if +she would not like to walk on the piazzas. She assented, and they went +forth. The evening was cool and delightful. A sweet young moon shed her +pale light o'er the scene, veiling the roughness of the surrounding +country, and heightening its romantic effect. + +"I think you are growing less cheerful every day," said he, gazing +tenderly on her downcast features. + +"Can you not divine the cause of my depression?" she asked, raising her +dark eyes to his face. + +"No," said he, smiling on her. "Won't you tell me?" + +"Father says we must return home soon," answered she, turning her face +away. + +"Is that an unpleasant prospect to you?" asked he, seeking to obtain a +glance at her averted face. + +"Yes," returned she; and he thought a shudder for a moment convulsed the +slender form at his side. + +They were both silent several moments, and then he remarked, "I intend +to visit Wimbledon in a few months; may I not hope to see you should I +do so?" + +"I presume my father will be happy to receive a visit from you," +answered she, in a formal tone. + +"But his daughter would rather be excused from my company, I am to +understand," said he. + +"O, no! not that," returned Florence quickly, turning her face suddenly +toward him, when he saw it was bathed in tears and marked with painful +emotion. + +"What distresses you, Florence?" asked he; gently taking her hand in +his. "Will you not tell me?" + +"I dare not, Edgar!" answered she, with fast-falling tears. "I have +wronged you, and you will not forgive me." + +"Then you do not love me!" said he, looking sadly on her countenance. + +"O, yes! I love you," she returned, in a tone of pathetic tenderness, +"Heaven knows, too wildly well! If that could atone for my fault, I +should not fear to give it expression." + +"It can!" said he, pressing her hand closely to his heart. "Believe me, +Florence, it can atone for everything." + +Encouraged by his tone and manner she spoke. "I am engaged"--he dropped +the hand and started back--"to Rufus Malcome," she concluded, and then +darting quickly into the hall, flew up stairs and locked herself into +her own apartment. She paced the floor hurriedly several minutes, and +then seized her journal,--always her confidant in moments of affliction. + +"I knew it would come to this at last," she wrote. "I have acknowledged +my error, and told him of my engagement with Rufus Malcome. It cost me a +struggle, but I knew he must learn it from some source e'er long, and +better from my lips than those of strangers. He will visit Wimbledon, +and then, O horrible thought! I shall be the bride of another; for +father tells me Col. Malcome is desirous the marriage should be +consummated the approaching winter. I got a long, foolish letter from +Rufus yesterday. O dear, how sick and sorry it made me! It is strange +mother never writes. Col. Malcome says she is not as well as when we +left, and this intelligence disposes father to hasten home. O, my poor +bleeding heart! How soon this little day of happiness has past." She +closed the book, and threw herself on the bed. After a while she fell +asleep, and was roused by Ellen, knocking for admittance. + +In the morning she met Edgar in the parlor with her father and young +Williams, the three in earnest conversation about their proposed +excursion to the Profile Mountain. He made her a distant bow. She +returned to her room, and not the most urgent entreaties of her father +could induce her to join the party. She pleaded a violent headache, and +Ellen announced her resolve to remain with her. She cared nothing about +the 'Old Man;' she would stay at home and nurse Florence. So the three +gentlemen departed together, and in a few days the Howards had left the +mountain region and set out for Wimbledon. + + + + + CHAPTER XXXVII. + + "Once more the sound + Of human voices echoes in our ears; + And some commotion dire hath roused + The female ranks. Let's pause and learn + The drift of all this wordy war of tongues." + + +Back to the Mumbles, the Wimbles and Pimbles, and their clamorous voices +again dinning in our ears. Will we ever be quit of them? + +As cold weather approached, and the atmospheric thermometer descended to +the freezing point, the philanthropic one mounted suddenly to blood +heat. + +Mrs. Pimble and Mrs. Lawson assumed their green legs and strode over +Wimbledon with pompous, majestic tread. The Woman's Rights Reform shook +off its sluggish torpor, and rose a mighty shape of masculine vigor, +strength and power. As in atonement for past sloth and inertness, the +reformists became more active in their several departments than ever +before. Lectures were delivered, clubs formed, and committees appointed +to visit the people from house to house, and stir them up by way of +remembrance, to engage in the great benevolent enterprises of the day. +At length an indignation meeting was announced to be held at the village +church in Wimbledon. The house was thronged at an early hour, and great +excitement pervaded the assembly, when the chairman and other officers +appeared and ascended the platform, which had been erected for their +convenience. It must be admitted that Dea. Allen, sitting in the glaring +light of the uncurtained windows, contemplated with rather wrathful +visage the ample green damask Bloomers, which adorned the lower limbs of +the several officiating ladies; but he quite forgot his anger when the +president sublimely arose, and, advancing to the front of the stand, +said in a loud, commanding tone: + +"We will now proceed with the business of this convention. If there is +any person in the house that wishes to pray, she, or he, can do so. We +hold to liberty and equal rights for all." + +She then stood in silence several moments, gazing over the assembly with +a self-possessed and confident air. But it appeared no person was moved +with a spirit of prayer. So the lady president, after a preparatory hem, +proceeded with the duties of her office. She, in a brief speech, +explained the reason for holding this meeting, and the object it had in +view. + +"I have spoken in public before," said she; "often has my voice been +raised against tyranny and oppression in all its forms; but never until +to-day has it been my happy privilege to address so large an assembly of +the inhabitants of my native village on the holy subjects of freedom and +philanthropy. It inspires my soul with fresh courage to behold your +eager faces, for they seem to say your minds are awakening to the +demands of the down-trodden portions of your race. We hold this +convention to arouse an interest in the cause of reform, which shall +lead to strong and energetic action. + +"It is too painfully true that Wimbledon is a sink of immorality, vice +and pollution, where moral turpitude stalks with giant strides, and +abominable barbarisms are practised under the glaring light of heaven. +(Sensation.) The object of this meeting is to crush the oppressor's +might, and raise his hapless victims to their proper position in +society. I call upon the women of this assembly to rise from the depths +of their degradation, rush boldly in the faces of their enslavers, and +assert their rights; and, having asserted, maintain them, even at the +point of the sword. (Sensation and murmurings.) A series of resolutions +will now be presented for the consideration of the convention." + +She turned to Mrs. Lawson, who sat majestically in a large arm-chair, +her strong arms folded on her broad chest, and whispered a few words in +her ear. While she was thus engaged, Mr. Salsify Mumbles rose, and said +in a loud tone: "Gentlemen and ladies, I rise for the purpose"---- On +hearing the sound of his voice, the lady president rushed to the edge of +the platform, and glaring on the upright figure, which shook like an +aspen beneath her fiery eyes, exclaimed, in thundering accents, "What +are you standing there for, you booby-faced, blubber-chopped baboon in +boots?" + +"I wish to speak," stammered the terrified man. He could utter no more. + +"_You_ speak!" said the lofty president, in a tone of the most supreme +contempt,--"sit down." + +The poor creature dropped as quick as though he had received a cannon +ball in his heart. + +Mrs. Pimble retired, and Mrs. Secretary Lawson arose, adjusted her green +spectacles, and, taking a roll of papers from the table, advanced to the +front of the stand. Elevating her brows, she said: + +"I will now read several resolutions which have been handed in since the +opening of the meeting. + +"First, Resolved, That the enfranchised women of Wimbledon use their +combined efforts for the liberation of their suffering sisterhood, who +yet groan beneath the despotic cruelties of the oppressor man." + +The secretary sat down. The president arose. "Are there any remarks to +be made on this resolution?" she said. + +None were forthcoming. + +"Then I move its adoption." + +"I second the motion," squealed a little voice from some remote corner. + +The secretary came forward. "All in favor of this resolution will please +say, ay." + +A score of voices were heard. + +"It is unanimously accepted," said she. "I will now proceed to the +reading of the second. + +"Resolved, That, as a means of humbling and destroying the tyranny which +the monster man exercises over the larger portion of the women of +Wimbledon, six of the usurpers be converted into lamp-posts, and placed +at the corners of the principal streets, with tin lanterns fixed upon +their heads, to light the cause of philanthropy in its midnight +struggles." (Sensation, and several brawny hands scratching uneasily at +the apex of their craniums.) + +The secretary sat down; the lady president arose. "This is a very +spirited as well as elegant resolve," said she, "and cannot fail of +securing universal approbation. Mrs. Secretary, you will please read the +remaining portion, and then all can be adopted by one joint action of +the house." + +"There are but two brief ones to follow," said the secretary, again +coming forward. + +"First, Resolved, That the tortuous channel of Wimbledon river be made +straight, and the tyrant man be compelled to perform the labor with +three-inch augers and pap-spoons. + +"Secondly, Resolved, That, the steeple of this church, which looms so +boldly impious toward the sky, be felled to the ground, and be converted +into a liberty-pole, with the cast-off petticoats of the enfranchised +women of Wimbledon flaunting proudly from its summit, as an emblem of +the downfall of man's bigotry and despotism, and the triumphant +elevation of woman to her proper sphere among the rulers of the earth." + +Great sensation as the lady secretary pronounced the foregoing resolves, +with strong impressiveness of tone and manner. As she retired, Dea. +Allen rose. The lady president sprang from her seat. + +"Sit down!" shrieked she, bringing her foot to the platform with a +violence that caused it to tremble. But the deacon did not drop at this +sharp command, as Mr. Mumbles had done. + +"I thought you held to liberty and equal rights," said he, with an air +of some boldness. + +"I do,--and therefore I tell you to sit down." + +"I will speak," said he, returning the defiant looks cast upon him by +both president and secretary; "for religion and right demand it. If you +dare profane with your sacrilegious hands the holy steeple of this house +of God, avenging justice will fall with crushing weight upon your guilty +heads." + +Having delivered himself of this dread prediction, the deacon sat down. + +In her loftiest style, Mrs. Pimble moved the adoption of the +resolutions, vouchsafing no word of comment on the impertinent +interruption. A brawling, discordant shout of "Ay--ay--ay," in every +possible variety of tones, from a swarm of boisterous boys and ranting +rowdies, was declared a unanimous approval, and in a storm of hisses and +hurrahs the indignation meeting triumphantly adjourned. + + + + + CHAPTER XXXVIII. + + "Fare thee well! and if forever, + Still forever, fare _thee well_, + Even though unforgiving, never + 'Gainst thee shall my heart rebel. + + Yet, O, yet thyself deceive not; + Love may sink by slow decay, + But by sudden wrench, believe not, + Hearts can thus be torn away. + Still thine own its life retaineth, + Still must mine, though bleeding, beat, + And the undying thought which paineth, + Is, that we no more may meet." + + +Sudden death had entered the home of Louise Edson and made her a widow. +Her husband died of cholera, in a distant city, whence he had gone for +the purchase of goods, and was brought home a corpse. Louise reeled to +earth beneath the sudden and unexpected blow. Her soul was lacerated by +constant memory of the wrong she had done him, and it seemed to her +aroused and trembling conscience that avenging Heaven had taken to +itself the man she had so deeply injured, and left her to grope darkly +on in her own wickedness and sin. True she had been cruelly disappointed, +and through long years compelled to struggle on in all the bitter +loneliness of feelings unreplied to, bound by indissoluble chains to one +who had no tastes or sympathies in common with her. Death had freed her +now, but, ah! too late. The taint of sin was on her soul. She had forgot +her vows at the altar, debased herself and wronged her husband by +listening to words of passion from another. O, far less bitter would +have been her grief, as she stood weeping over his lifeless form, could +she have laid her hand on the cold, damp brow and said, "I have loved +thee ever, and through life's cares and perplexities stood closely at +thy side to cheer and smooth thy pathway." But this she could not say. +She only felt that the soul had gone to God, to learn her falsity and +sin, and looked from the skies upon her with grief and avenging anger. +Bitterly she thought of the man who had led her from the path of +rectitude, and resolved to see him no more. As a self-inflicted penance, +she immured herself within the walls of her own mansion, and determined +to pass the remainder of her life in solitude. Many of her numerous +friends sought admittance to express sympathy and condolence in her +affliction, but she refused to see them and resisted all their +overtures. Only one person gained entrance to her seclusion. That was +Mrs. Stanhope, whose kind heart was deeply pained by the apparently +incurable sorrow that had settled on the mind of her young friend, and +strove, by every effort in her power, to lighten her woes and lead her +to more hopeful views of the future. + +"It grieves me," said she, "to see you, in the bloom of youth and +health, immure yourself in a living tomb, and refuse the consolations +you would receive from intercourse with your species." + +"I want no more of the world," answered the sufferer; "it has no +pleasure or enjoyment for me." + +"But, my dear, you should not allow your feelings to overpower your +better judgment," remonstrated Mrs. Stanhope. + +"Ah, my feelings!" said Louise, bitterly, with tears rolling over her +pale cheeks; "they have been my destruction. Had I always controlled +them, I had not been the miserable creature I am to-day." + +Mrs. Stanhope hardly understood this passionate outburst, but she still +strove to soothe and comfort her afflicted friend. + +"Your brow is hot and feverish," said she, rising to depart. "I caution +you to calm yourself and take some rest, or severe sickness will +prostrate you ere long." + +"And why should I fear sickness or death," asked Louise, in a hopeless +tone, "when the only calm for me is the calm of the grave, the only rest +its dreamless slumbers?" + +Mrs. Stanhope gazed on the suffering face with tearful pity, and turned +away. On opening the hall door, she encountered Col. Malcome, pacing to +and fro on the icy piazza. He started suddenly on beholding her, and +asked if she came from Mrs. Edson. Mrs. Stanhope answered affirmatively. + +"And how have you left her?" inquired he, with an expression of strong +anxiety and emotion on his features. + +"She seems deeply afflicted," returned Mrs. Stanhope. + +"Does she still persist in refusing to see her friends?" asked he. + +"She is thus disposed, I regret to say," was Mrs. Stanhope's reply. + +"Would you do me the favor to return, and entreat her to grant me a few +moments in her presence?" inquired he, in an earnest tone. + +"I will perform your request with pleasure," she said; "but I fear I +shall bring you naught but a gloomy refusal." Thus saying, she reentered +the apartment of Louise. + +"I am come with a petition, Mrs. Edson," she remarked, approaching her +side, and laying a hand softly on the bowed head. "Will you grant it +your favor?" + +"I must hear it first," said Louise. + +"Col. Malcome is walking on the piazza; he wishes to see you." + +"Go and tell him, in another and a darker world I'll see him; never +again in this," answered Louise, starting to her feet, her whole frame +trembling with excitement and anger. + +Mrs. Stanhope was astonished and alarmed at her appearance, and stood +gazing on her in wondering silence. At length she said, "I cannot take a +message like that to him; he would think it the wild raving of a +lunatic." + +"Tell him, then, to go away, and never approach these doors again," said +Louise, suddenly bursting into tears. Mrs. Stanhope lingered in surprise +at her friend's emotion, and strove to soothe it. + +"Go," said Louise; "I command you to go, and send him away. I shall die +if I hear another of his footfalls on the piazza." + +Alarmed by the dreadful energy of her manner, Mrs. Stanhope hurried +away. The colonel came eagerly to her side, as she stepped forth. + +"Does she refuse me?" he asked. + +"She does," said Mrs. Stanhope. + +"And does she give no encouragement that I may gain admittance at some +future time?" + +"None." + +"Then carry this to her," said he, placing a small, folded letter in +Mrs. Stanhope's hand, and turning dejectedly away. + +Again she entered the mansion. Louise sat with head bowed between her +hands, and did not raise her eyes. Mrs. Stanhope laid the missive on the +table beside her, and silently left the apartment. + +Twilight deepened into evening, and still the suffering woman sat there, +in mute, unutterable agony. A servant entering with lights at length +aroused her to consciousness, and her eye fell on the folded letter +lying on the stand. Hastily tearing away the envelope, she dropped on +her knees, and ran over its contents with devouring eagerness, while her +features worked with strong, conflicting emotions, and tears rolled +continually from her beautiful eyes and blistered the written page. "Why +do you drive me from you?" it began. "If, in an unguarded moment, under +the intoxicating influences which your bewitching presence, the quiet +seclusion of the spot, and romantic hush and stillness of the hour threw +around me, all combining to lap my soul in delicious forgetfulness of +everything beyond the momentary bliss of having you at my side, I +suffered words to escape my lips, which should have remained concealed +in my own bosom, you might at least let the deep, overpowering love +which forced their utterance, plead as some extenuation for my +presumption and error. But it seems you have cast me from you +forever--unpitied--unforgiven. O, Louise! I did not think you so +implacable. The sin is mine, and I would come on bended knee to implore +pardon for the suffering and sorrow my rashness has brought to your +innocent heart; but you fly from my approach, and banish me from your +presence. No mercy for one, who, though he may have erred, is surely +atoning for his errors by anguish as deep, as poignant as your own. +Night after night I walk the piazza beneath your windows. I know you +hear my step and feel that I am near. But you will not open the casement +and let me for a moment behold your features and crave your forgiveness. +O, Louise, am I to die without a pitying word or look from you? + +"I sit by my Edith's bed-side through long, weary midnight hours, and +she wakes from her fitful slumbers and asks for you. 'Why does she never +come to see me now? There's no arm raises me so lightly, no hand bathes +my brow so gently, as hers. Will you not bring her, father?' + +"O, what agony these words inflict! I have to feel my own rashness and +folly have deprived my sick child of a tender nurse. Louise, do you not +remember one dear, bright morning, long ago, when I was sitting at the +piano in that pleasant parlor I'm forbidden to enter now, and you stood +beside me in all your bewildering grace and beauty, that I sought from +you a promise which was given? Still, still would I conjure you, as +Steerforth said to David, _think of me at my best_. You will need to do +it soon; for your contempt and scorn are hurrying me on to deeds of +crime and wickedness. O, will you drive me to the wretch's doom, or win +me to a life of happiness and virtue? It is yours to decide." + +Such were the contents of the letter which remained clenched in the +grasp of the agitated woman through the long hours of that woe-fraught +night. When the first gray tints of dawn were visible, she started and +hid it away in her bosom. Grasping a pen she traced a few lines with +trembling hand, and placed them in an envelope directed to Mrs. +Stanhope. Then unclosing her wardrobe, she selected a few articles of +clothing, made them into a small bundle, and wrapping a heavy shawl +round her slender form, and concealing her features in a large black +bonnet with a long, thick veil, she opened softly the hall door, and +stole forth into the cold, biting air, walking hurriedly over the frosty +paths till she had gained the lonesome country road beyond the village. + +As Mrs. Stanhope was sitting down to breakfast, a knock called her to +the door, where she beheld Mrs. Edson's servant, who presented her with +a letter, and said her mistress had gone away very suddenly, and she +would like to know if she had left any word as to when she would return. + +Mrs. Stanhope broke the seal, and read with surprise and astonishment +depicted on her features. The girl stood waiting to learn its contents. + +"I think," said Mrs. Stanhope, suddenly recollecting herself, "that your +mistress will be absent some time. She informs me she has gone on a +visit to the aunt with whom she resided previous to her marriage." + +"Where does her aunt live?" asked the girl. + +"I do not know," returned Mrs. Stanhope, "but I think at a considerable +distance from this place." + +The girl retired, and Mrs. Stanhope reentered the breakfast room. + +"Who was in the porch?" inquired Miss Pinkerton, as her sister assumed +her place by the coffee urn. + +"Mrs. Edson's servant," returned she, arranging the cups with an absent +air. + +"What did she want?" asked Miss Martha, opening her muffin and dropping +a piece of golden butter on its smoking surface. + +"She brought me a note from her mistress," said Mrs. Stanhope, "who has +departed suddenly on a visit to her aunt, and wishes me to superintend +the care of her mansion for a time." + +"I guess she is coming out of her dumps," said Martha. "I always said +there was no danger of her dying of grief for the loss of a husband. +She'll come home one of these days a gay widow, and set her cap for Col. +Malcome. I always thought she had a liking for him." + +Mrs. Stanhope made no reply to this unfeeling speech. After breakfast +the colonel chanced in to take the long-forgotten package away, when he +learned of Louise's sudden departure, and went home in a state of +increased anguish and despair. + + + + + CHAPTER XXXIX. + + "To the old forest home + I hie me again; + But I bring not the gladness + My spirit knew when + I roamed in my childhood + Its wide-spreading bounds; + For sorrows have pierced me, + My soul wears the wounds." + + +The Hermit of the Cedars sat in his antique room alone, by a peat-wood +fire. He appeared wrapt in moody thought and contemplation, though ever +and anon, as the wintry blast gave a wilder sweep over the swaying roof +above him, he turned and glanced uneasily toward the door, as though he +wished and waited the appearance of some form over its threshold. But +the hours passed on, and no one came to cheer his loneliness. So, +heaping the ashes over the glowing embers, he betook himself to his +lowly couch, but his head had hardly touched the pillow when a quick +step crackling along the icy path struck his ear. Ere he could reach the +door it was pushed open, and a voice called out hastily, "Uncle Ralph!" + +"Edgar, my boy!" exclaimed the hermit, groping in the darkness to clasp +him in his arms. "Are you returned at last?" + +"Yes, dear uncle," answered the young man; "I reached the village by the +evening stage, and hurried with all speed to my old forest home." + +The hermit lighted a candle and raked open the coals. A bright fire soon +burned on the hearth, and by its ruddy blaze the fond uncle marked the +changes two years had wrought in the appearance of his nephew. He was +taller, and a manly confidence of tone and manner had succeeded the +reserve and timidity which characterized his boyhood. The luxuriant +masses of soft brown hair were brushed away from the clear, pale brow, +and the deep blue eyes glowed in the conscious light of genius and +intellectual fervor. The hermit gazed with ardent admiration on the +commanding elegance and beauty of the form before him. + +"Education and travel have made a wonderful improvement in your +appearance, my boy," he remarked at length, his voice trembling with +emotion as he spoke. "Still I don't know but I liked you better as the +curly-headed boy in morocco cap and little blue frock-coat, that used to +come bounding over the forest path, with his satchel in hand; or set +here of long winter evenings, reading some treasured volume at my side; +or perched within the window nook gazing silently upward at the +glistening stars;--for the dreamy boy I could keep near me, but the +lofty, ambitious man I cannot hope to prison here in a solitary +wilderness,--nor should I indulge in a wish so selfish," he added. "Tell +me, Edgar, of your travels, your enjoyments and occupations, since you +departed from this lowly roof." + +The young man gave a brief rehearsal of the principal events of the past +two years. He hesitated somewhat when he came to his meeting and renewal +of acquaintance with Florence Howard, recollecting his uncle's former +aversion to their intercourse. He might have passed over it in silence, +but his delicate sense of honor would not allow him to deceive in the +smallest point the heart that loved him so devotedly. The listening man +bent earnest, scrutinizing glances on the speaker's face as he proceeded +with his tale, and when it was finished, bowed his gray head on his thin +hands, as was his wont when engaged in deep thought, and remained +silent. + +At length a tremendous blast swept through the forest, blew open the +door, and scattered the coals from the deep fire-place over the floor of +the apartment. The moody man started from his reverie. Edgar secured the +door, and, taking a broom composed of small sprigs of hemlock and cedar, +brushed the scattered embers into a pile. + +"Do you not wish to retire?" asked the hermit, as the young man resumed +his seat in the corner. + +"As you wish, uncle," returned he; "I do not feel much fatigued." + +"Ay, but I think you are so," said the kind-hearted man, regarding +attentively his nephew's features. "My joy at beholding you has rendered +me forgetful of your physical comforts. Let me get you some refreshment, +and then you shall lie down and rest your weary limbs." + +The hermit took a small brown earthen jug from a rude shelf over the +fire-place, and, pouring a portion of its contents into a bright-faced +pewter basin, placed it on a heap of glowing coals. Then going to a +cupboard he brought forth a large wooden bowl, filled with a coarse, +white substance. When the contents of the basin were warm he placed it +on the table, and setting a chair, said, "Come, my boy, and partake of +this simple food. 'Tis all I have to offer you; not like the dainty +repasts at which you are accustomed to sit in the abodes of wealth and +fashion." + +Edgar approached and took the proffered seat. + +"Ay," said he; "you have served me a dish more grateful to my palate +than the most delicately-prepared dainties would prove. This rich, sweet +milk is delicious, and who boils your hominy so nicely, uncle?" he +continued, conveying several slices of the substance in the wooden bowl +to his basin. + +"Dilly Danforth, the poor village washerwoman, cooks it, and her boy, +Willie, brings it to me," answered the hermit. + +"Ay, the lad you mentioned in one of your letters," said Edgar. "Why +does he not remain with you altogether? You seemed happy in his +companionship, and I hoped he might become to you a second Edgar." + +A strange expression passed over the face of the recluse as his nephew, +with much earnest truthfulness of manner, gave utterance to these words. + +"I did like to have the boy with me," he remarked; "but his mother was +lonely without him." + +Edgar rose from his simple repast. + +"Now you had better retire," said his uncle, tenderly; "though I fear +you will rest but ill on my hard couch." + +"My slumbers will be sweet as though I reposed on eider down," returned +he, "if you will but assure me that my coming or words have not marred +your quiet and composure." + +"My boy," said the hermit, gazing on him anxiously, "what do you mean? +How should the arrival of one I have so longed to behold give aught but +joy to my lonely soul?" + +"I may have spoken words that grieved you," said the young man, +sorrowfully; "but I could not bear to conceal the truth from you, dear +uncle;" and his voice trembled as he spoke. + +"Edgar," returned the hermit, with emotion, "I am grateful for your +confidence, and though I could have wished your heart's affections +bestowed on some other woman, I will no longer oppose your inclinations. +Marry Florence Howard if you choose." + +"Marry her!" exclaimed Edgar, suddenly breaking in upon his uncle's +discourse. "She is engaged to another." + +"What is his name?" asked the hermit. + +"Rufus Malcome," returned the young man. + +"What! a brother to the girl I saw with you on the river bank?" inquired +the recluse, with a sudden excitement of manner. + +"Yes," said Edgar; "the brother of Edith Malcome." + +"O, the mysterious workings of fate!" exclaimed the hermit, falling +again into a ruminating silence, which Edgar did not deem it wise to +disturb. + +So they laid down on the lowly couch, and the young man, fatigued with +his journeyings, drew the coverings over his head to exclude the shrill +shriekings of the sweeping blasts, and soon rested quietly in the sweet +forgetfulness of sleep. + +Sleep! angel ministrant to the grief-stricken soul. How many that walk +this verdant earth would fain lie locked in her slumberous arms forever! + + + + + CHAPTER XL. + + "No voice hath breathed upon mine ear + Thy name since last we met; + No sound disturbed the silence drear, + Where sleep entombed from year to year, + Thy memory, my regret." + + +In her own elegantly appointed apartment sat Florence Howard, with her +journal open upon the table. + +"Beneath the old roof-tree of home once more," she wrote, "to find my +mother's pale face yet paler than when I left her, and a sudden tremor +and nervousness betrayed on the slightest unusual sound, which is +exceeding painful to witness. + +"Hannah's penchant for me seems to have decreased somewhat, since father +waited on Col. Malcome and asked his consent to the delay of my proposed +nuptials with Rufus, till some change should occur in mother's health. +Dr. Potipher thinks she will hardly survive the trying weather of the +approaching spring. + +"Poor, dear mother! what shall I do without her? But I may not linger +long behind. + +"I used to think I was very miserable, when I pined in ignorance of +Edgar's love, and grew jealous of his attentions to gentle Edith +Malcome; but what were those petty griefs, compared with the agony of +having known the sweet possession of his heart, and lost it,--lost it, +too, through my own selfish folly and weakness? Truly, there's naught so +bitter as self-reproach. Heaven only knows what I have suffered since +that dreadful night, when I fled from his angry, reproachful looks, and +locked myself in the solitude of my chamber. And that freezing, distant +recognition on the following morning! O, what a shuddering horror will +ever creep over me with the memory of Franconia Notch! And Mount +Washington,--which was for aye to tower above all other scenes of +grandeur earth's broadest extent could afford,--a thought of it unnerves +my soul with grief. What short-sighted mortals are we! + +"I think my father suspects my secret and reproaches himself for giving +me so free access to Edgar's company. I would not wonder if the delay he +has urged to my marriage were influenced as much by this sad knowledge +as my mother's failing health. Col. Malcome gave a reluctant assent, at +which I am surprised. When his sweet daughter is sinking slowly into +the grave, 'tis strange he can think of any earthly interest. + +"I have looked mournfully toward the cedar forest to-night, and thought +of the poor lone hermit in his humble hut, and wished, O, how fervently +wished! that I, like him, had a habitation afar from the world's hollow +throngs, where I could sit and brood in solitude over my broken heart! + +"Am I not a living, breathing, suffering example of the truth of Byron's +eloquent words? + + 'The day drags on, though storms keep out the sun, + And thus the heart will break, yet brokenly live on.'" + +Florence closed her journal, and approached the window. + +As she was dropping the curtain to retire, a dark figure moving +stealthily under the leafless branches of the lindens, which stood in +rows on the least public side of the house, arrested her attention. The +remembrance of a similar appearance she had once seen crossed her mind, +and no ill having followed that, she dismissed her fears, and ere long +sank to rest. + +When the village clock pealed forth the hour of midnight, the dark +figure she had observed, stood on the terrace below. The hall door swung +noiselessly on its hinges, and Hannah Doliver stepped forth. "Here are +the matches and kindling-wood," said she in a whisper, approaching the +dusky form, and holding a small basket forward. + +"Are they all asleep?" asked a hushed voice. + +"Yes," answered she. + +"See that you give the alarm in season," returned the muffled figure, as +he took the basket from the woman's hand, and passed softly down the +steps of the piazza. + +Silently the destroying fires were lighted. But the midnight incendiary +would have proceeded less deliberately with his work of destruction, had +he marked the tall, lank figure in a long, dark overcoat, and +slouching-brimmed hat, which slowly dogged closely his every footstep. +Suddenly a bright flash leaped up from the fragments the wicked man +sought to enkindle, and revealed his garb and features. A mingled +expression of hatred and revenge glared from the sunken eyes of his +follower, who stood in the shadow of a linden near by, as the pale, +handsome features and light, curling locks of the incendiary met his +gaze. + +"Villain!" exclaimed he, springing forward, as the man turned with a +hurried step from his work of destruction; "would you burn innocent +people in their beds?" + +With one fell blow the man dashed the lank form to the earth, and fled +down the avenue of cedars, which led to the river, never heeding the +startled looks of a thin woman, and tall, graceful youth, against whose +sides he brushed in his guilty flight. + +"Who could that flying figure have been?" asked the lad of the woman, +when the man had rushed past. + +"I don't know, indeed, Willie," answered she, "unless it was your +friend, the hermit, gone wild. You say he has been more gloomy than +usual for several days." + +"O, no!" returned the youth; "it was not the hermit. I distinguished +this man's features very plainly as he passed, and it was no one I ever +saw before. He had no covering on his head, and his hair was light and +curly. His face seemed glowing with rage and anger." + +"It must have been some lunatic escaped from the asylum," said the +woman. + +"Well, I think you are right, mother," answered the boy. "I hope he has +not harmed the poor hermit, whom I left sitting on a stone among the +cedars, near Major Howard's mansion. He came thus far with me to-night, +as it was so late, and the way long and gloomy." + +"Ah! he was very kind," remarked the woman. "I began to fear you were +not coming for me, Willie, and thought I should have to remain at Mr. +Pimble's all night, or go home alone. Is the hermit's nephew still with +him?" + +"No, he went away this morning, and the poor old man is very lonely and +sad. He said he wished I could be with him all the time." + +"Strange being!" said the woman. "Why does he not leave the forest, and +dwell among his fellow-men?" + +"I think it is because he experienced some disappointment in his youth," +answered the lad, "and has come to distrust all his species." + +"It may be so," returned the woman. "I have heard of such instances. He +is very kind to you, my boy, and but for his little bundles of sticks, I +think we must have perished during your long illness through that +piercing cold winter. Strange are the realities of life; stranger than +fiction! When the rich Mr. Pimble drove me from his threshold, the poor +hermit of the forest braved the bleak storms, and laid the charitable +piles on my poverty-stricken threshold." + +The mother and son had now reached their humble abode. + +"Willie," said she, "I wish you would run down by the river and gather +up the few pieces of linen I washed and spread out there yesterday. The +wind is rising fast, and they will blow away before morning." + +The boy hastened to perform her request, and in a few moments came +rushing into the house, and exclaimed: + +"Mother! mother! Major Howard's house is all on fire! I am going up +there," and, flinging the pieces he held in his arms on the table, he +flew off toward the burning mansion. + +Mrs. Danforth followed him to the door and discovered his words were but +too true. Long tongues of flame darted upward to the sky, and ran +fiercely over the walls and terraces of the mansion. The church bell was +pealing madly to rouse the slumbering people to the rescue; but the fire +gained so rapidly in the sweeping wind, all efforts to quench it could +not prove otherwise than futile. To save the lives of the inmates would +be the utmost which could be done, and even this seemed a perilous +undertaking. + +Willie Danforth was rushing up the avenue of cedars, when, just as he +was entering the grounds of the burning mansion, he stumbled over some +large object which obstructed the path. It moved beneath, and, by the +glare of the flames, he discovered the body of his friend, the hermit, +lying at full length upon the frozen ground. The prostrate man opened +his eyes and recognized Willie. + +"O, my good boy, I am sadly hurt!" said he, feebly. "Will you help me to +rise and get away from this place?" + +Willie, who forgot everything, even the burning mansion before him, in +care and pity for his friend, raised him to his feet, and half +supporting the tall, thin form in his young, strong arms, drew him down +the long avenue and along the river bank to his mother's dwelling. + +And that night the insensible form of the Hermit of the Cedars lay +stretched upon the low couch of Dilly Danforth's humble abode. + + + + + CHAPTER XLI. + + "There are so many signs of wickedness + Around me, that my soul is pressed with fear. + O, that the power divine would kindly aid + Me in my need, and save me from the wiles + And artful plottings of this wicked man! + For though he speaks so soft, and smiles so fair, + I've seen at times a strange look in his eye + Which doth convince me that his soul is black within." + + +Col. Malcome flung wide the doors of his elegant mansion to receive the +suffering family who, in the space of a few short hours, had lost their +all of earthly wealth by the subtle element of fire. The invalided Mrs. +Howard was borne on a litter to an apartment so warm and complete in its +arrangements, as to almost wear the appearance of having been fitted up +expressly to receive her in her forlorn and unsheltered condition. +Large, richly-furnished rooms, all glowing bright in their luxurious +comforts, were also in readiness for Florence and her father. The latter +was nearly overwhelmed with grief and dismay at his sudden and +irremediable loss. Col. Malcome strove by every means in his power to +assuage and lighten his sorrows. + +"My house is your home as long as you choose to make it so, Major +Howard," said he one morning after the afflicted family had been several +weeks partakers of his generous hospitality. + +"I cannot consent to burden you with my family any longer than while I +can find some place to which I can remove them," answered he. "And then +I must engage in some kind of business to provide for their support. +This unfortunate accident has given my wife so dreadful a shock, I fear +she will not long survive it." + +A significant smile appeared for a moment on Col. Malcome's features at +these latter words, but he concealed it from the distressed man, and +replied, "It grieves me to hear you talk thus. Why should you regard +your family as burdensome guests beneath my roof, when we are soon to be +linked in the ties of relationship by the union of our children?" + +"True!" returned Major Howard. "Such a union has been proposed, but----" + +"But what?" asked Col. M. + +"You may not look as favorably on its consummation now as formerly." + +"Judge not so meanly of me, my friend!" said he, warmly. "Your +daughter's rich soul and personal charms are all the wealth I desire in +the lady who shall become the wife of my son." + +Major Howard was silent. + +"I do not wish to hasten this marriage," resumed the colonel, "because +you expressed a desire, several months ago, that it should be delayed +till a change occurred in your wife's situation (a strange emphasis on +the word _wife_); but were it consummated, your family could occupy +one-half of my mansion with no expense to me till Rufus should rebuild +the one you have recently lost by fire." + +Major Howard's face suddenly brightened. The colonel saw he had made a +hit, and followed up his advantage so adroitly that e'er the twain +parted, the father had consented that the marriage between his daughter +and the colonel's son should take place within four weeks. He sought his +daughter and communicated the intelligence. Florence received it in +silence. She felt they were without a home in the wide world, and at the +mercy of the man under whose roof they were sheltered. A strange horror +was seizing upon her soul and bowing her spirits to the earth. There +were many looks and glances around her she could not understand; but +they seemed possessed of some dark and hidden meaning. Hannah Doliver's +glee knew no bounds. She followed Rufus from morning till night, and +appeared uneasy if he was a moment beyond her sight. The young man +returned her fondness with hatred and contempt. Edith, with her pale, +wan face and sunken eyes, looked the mere shadow of her former self. +During her long illness, her beautiful head had been shorn of its ripply +wealth of auburn curls, and, as she lay languidly on the soft cushions +of her luxuriant couch, few would have recognized in that wasted form +the once radiant Edith Malcome. She had a feverishness and uncertainty +of temper common to long-confined invalids. Florence could find little +companionship in her society; besides, she was too weak to endure the +excitement of laughter and conversation. + +Rufus sought his affianced bride at every opportunity; and the only +place where she could rest secure from his interruptions was the +apartment of her mother, where he never ventured to intrude, being +possessed of a strange fear and dread of sick people. He never visited +Edith, unless compelled to do so by his father. + +Florence was one day sitting in the deep recess of one of the +drawing-room windows, with the massy folds of purple damask drooped +before her, occupied in the perusal of a book of poems, when a +succession of low, murmuring sounds near by, disturbed her, and +listening a moment she heard Col. Malcome say, in a smothered tone, +"There's no fear of detection; all moves on bravely, and we shall have a +blooming young bride here in a few weeks." + +Then there was a low, chuckling laugh, which Florence recognized as +Hannah Doliver's. After a while the woman spoke in a stifled voice, +"Don't you want to see _her_?" she said. "I should think you would." +There was a slight malice in her tone, which appeared to irritate him +somewhat. + +"I can wait very well till the ceremony is performed," he answered at +length. "Of course, she will appear at the marriage of her daughter." A +strange emphasis on the last word. + +"But come," he added directly, "we must not linger here. Some of the +family may observe us." + +Thus speaking, they passed out of the apartment, relieving Florence of +the fear with which she had been shaking during their whole conversation +lest they should discover her retreat in the window. + +When they were gone, she clasped her hands, and exclaimed in a low, but +fervent tone, "Will no arm save me from the power into which I have +fallen?" + +For several days she sought an opportunity to speak privately with her +father, but his attention was so incessantly occupied by Col. Malcome, +that none presented. + +When at last she gained his ear, he laughed her suspicions to scorn, and +bade her never come to him with such an idle tale again. + +The good-natured major was infatuated by, what he termed, the munificent +magnanimity of Col. Malcome, and, moreover, had been nurtured in +luxurious tastes, and the prospect of reinstating himself in an elegant +home by so easy a process as the marriage of his daughter, was too +desirable to be allowed to vanish lightly away. + + + + + CHAPTER XLII. + + "And they dare blame her! they whose every thought + Look, utterance, act, hath more of evil in 't + Than e'er she dreamed of or could understand, + And she must blush before them, with a heart + Whose lightest throb is worth their all of life!" + + +In a neat, but scantily furnished apartment of a small, white cottage +sat Louise Edson beside the low window which looked forth on a great +frowning building with grated bars and ponderous iron doors. + +"Is this a prison across the yard, aunt?" she asked of a tall, solemn +woman, in a black head-dress, who had just entered the room, and stood +laying some fresh fuel on the fire. + +"It is the county jail," replied she. + +"How it makes me shudder to look at it!" said Louise, turning from the +window, and assuming a chair near her aunt, who was taking a quantity of +sewing from a work-basket. + +"It reminds me of a lady who was my near neighbor in Wimbledon, and who +has been my sole companion for several months, to see you constantly +occupied with your needle," remarked Louise, looking on her aunt as she +assorted her cotton and arranged her work. + +"What is the lady's name, of whom you speak?" inquired the woman. + +"Mrs. Stanhope," answered Louise; "she is a kind soul. It pains me to +think I shall never see her again." + +"Do you not intend to return to your late home?" inquired the aunt, +somewhat surprised at the words of her niece. + +"Never!" returned Louise, with strong emphasis, "I could not endure it." + +"Pshaw! you will get over this weakness in a little while," said her +aunt. "You have half-conquered it by coming away, and you will complete +the victory by returning." + +"I tell you no," said Louise, somewhat angered by her aunt's +persistence. "I have already written to Mr. Richard Giblet, one of the +former firm of Edson & Co., to settle my affairs in Wimbledon, dispose +of my late residence, and remit the proceeds to me in drafts." + +The aunt looked astonished at this piece of intelligence, and said, "You +have been rash and premature, my child, and I fear will regret your +hasty proceedings." + +"If you knew how much it relieved me to get out of that place, aunt, you +would not fear I should ever wish to return. I was so near my enslaver +there, and my heart said all the time, 'O, I _must_ see him!' while +conscience whispered sternly, 'You _dare_ not do it.' There was a +constant war 'twixt love and reason, which threatened the extermination +of the latter." + +"I am glad you have been ruled by your better judgment," said her aunt; +"passion always leads us astray when we listen to its voice." + +"That is very true," answered Louise; "but O that I had known it only by +precept, and not by experience!" + +"Experience is called the best teacher," remarked the aunt. + +"It is the most bitter one," returned Louise. "How I wish you had been +with me through the few brief years of my married life! With your kind +care and admonitions I think I would never have strayed darkly into sin +and error." + +"We all err sometimes in our lives," said her aunt; "and I cannot +discover as you have wandered so far from the paths of rectitude that +your return to them should seem a thing impossible." + +"But did I not tell you how I deceived my husband?" asked Louise, +looking wofully in the face of her aunt. + +"Yes," returned she, calmly. "Did he never deceive you?" + +Louise paused a few moments, and answered, "I _was_ deceived when I +married him, but it was by my own blindness. However, the deception did +not last long," she added, with a spice of her old spirit. + +"And when it passed away," said her aunt. + +"Don't recall those terrible hours to my mind," interrupted Louise, +quickly, "lest I should forget the double share of respect I owe the +dead in that I failed to give them their due on earth." + +"I would not have the dead wronged," returned her aunt; "but I would +have the living righted. You used to be free and unrestrained in your +intercourse with me in the glad days of childhood and youth. I often +feared some envious sorrow would overtake you to chill and despoil that +buoyant exuberance of life and gayety. You were too wildly rich in heart +and soul. You wasted more love on a pet rabbit than would eke out the +whole passion life of a score of poorer natures. O, Louise, I trembled +when you stood before the altar and took the vows of faithfulness to Mr. +Leroy Edson. I knew you fancied that you loved him, and thought in the +wild potency of your passion to bear him skyward on your soaring +pinions; but, ah! I saw how sadly his clogging weight would drag you to +the earth." + +She paused, and Louise was silent, but her face showed traces of tears. + +"Do not think me severe," resumed her aunt; "I am only just. Now tell me +with your old-time confidence, why did you love another man while your +husband lived?" + +"It was because,"---- Louise hesitated, and then added, "because I was +wicked." + +"And for what other reason?" pursued her aunt. + +"And because I was tired," Louise went on in a dreamy tone, as if +thinking aloud to herself, "and because I was hungry." + +"Your expressions begin to assume the old, quaint, humorous form," said +the aunt smiling. "I suppose you mean your soul was tired for want of +something on which to rest, and hungry for want of its proper +nourishment." + +"That's what I mean, aunt; but then I do not seek excuse for the crime +of stealing to appease the cravings of my hunger." + +"A famishing man has never yet been hung for stealing to sustain life." + +"You draw a strong comparison, aunt," said Louise, laughing in spite of +herself. + +"To meet a strong case," returned she. "It is a duty I owe you to use my +best efforts to destroy this morbid melancholy which is preying on your +spirits. I know nothing of the man you have loved. He may or may not be +worthy of your affections. It is not his cause I plead. But I would +divest you of the false glasses through which your sensitive brain, +wrought on by high excitement, and shocked by a sudden calamity, has +come to regard the events of your past life, and let you behold them +again with your own natural sight. If I can effect this, I confidently +trust to your good reasoning powers to set all right again." + +Louise remained silent after her aunt ceased speaking, but her +countenance evinced far more energy and hopefulness than at the +commencement of the conversation. At length she rose and said, "Well, +aunt, I think I have as much logic as my weak brain can digest in one +night, so I'll retire to my bed-room, if you please." + +In a few weeks, young Mrs. Edson, under the tuition of her +strong-minded, sensible aunt, regained a share of her former vivacity, +and declared she would be quite herself again were it not for that great +black jail in the adjoining yard, which frowned on her every morning and +loomed dismally in her dreams. + + + + + CHAPTER XLIII. + + "Ah, why + Do you still keep apart, and walk alone, + And let such strong emotions stamp your brow, + As not betraying their full import, yet + Disclose too much! + Disclose too much!--of what? + What is there to disclose? + A heart so ill at ease." + + +The preparations for the nuptials of Florence Howard with Rufus Malcome +were rapidly progressing. + +The services of Dilly Danforth were put in active requisition. Day after +day her tall, thin form was seen moving to and fro the great mansion, +washing windows, polishing grates, and brightening the silver knobs and +plates of the mahogany doors. Col. Malcome, in his delight at the +approaching marriage of his son, resolved to give a large fete on the +occasion, and no pains were spared to render it the most costly and +sumptuous affair ever presented to the gaze of the people of Wimbledon. +The greatest expense was lavished upon the wedding-banquet, and the +young bride's trousseau might have vied in magnificence and profusion +with that of a royal princess. + +All this display and grandeur was revolting to Florence. It humbled and +mortified her proud, independent nature to owe the expensive decoration +of her approaching bridal to the generosity of the man she was about to +marry. + +Col. Malcome appeared in the most fitful spirits as the preparations +advanced toward their completion. He paced the piazzas for hours +together, with hurried, excited steps, pausing often and muttering +indistinctly to himself. + +Sometimes he stood before a window in a dejected attitude, and gazed +mournfully over the intervening gardens and cottages toward the elegant +and stately mansion lately occupied by the Edsons, which stood on a +small elevation just across the river, in the midst of beautiful +grounds. Then, as he turned suddenly away, his countenance would change +from its expression of gloomy regret to one of fierceness and angry +revenge. + +At length the night, whose morrow was to witness the long-expected +ceremony, drew on. Great torrents of rain were flooding the streets and +dashing dismally against the casements of the mansion which was, ere +long, to blaze in the light of the festive scene. + +Still, Col. Malcome, unheeding the storm, walked the wet marbles of the +piazzas, with arms folded over his chest and head bowed, in a state of +absent, moody absorption. At length the hall-door opened, and Rufus +advanced to his father's side. + +"What do you want with me?" said the colonel, turning quickly toward +him. + +"Not much," returned the son. "I heard you walking here, and thought I +would join you, as there was no one in the house to keep me company." + +"Where is Major Howard?" + +"With his wife," answered Rufus. + +"And Hannah?" continued the colonel. + +"Don't mention that detestable creature!" said the young man angrily. "I +can't abide her. So she is out of my sight, I care not where she is." + +"Why do you hate the woman so?" asked Col. M. "She seems very fond of +you." + +"Yes! I cannot move but what she follows me. It is strange Major Howard +retains such a bold, impudent slut in his service." + +The colonel coughed slightly and remained silent. + +At length Rufus spoke again hesitatingly, "Father!" said he. + +"Well!" returned Col. M., in a tone which indicated for him to proceed. + +"I don't want to marry Florence Howard," said the young man, with a +great gulp, as though it cost him a mighty effort to pronounce the +words. + +"Why not?" asked the father, apparently unheeding his son's emotion. +"Don't you love the girl?" + +"Love her!" repeated Rufus. "I don't know whether I do or not; but I am +afraid of her." + +"Afraid of a little, puny girl!" exclaimed Col. Malcome, in a towering +rage, "I did not think you such a pitiful craven." + +The young man seemed angered by his father's words, but made no retort. + +"Why are you afraid of her?" inquired the colonel after a while. + +"Because she looks so proud and stern upon me, and treats me with such +scorn and contempt." + +"O, never mind that!" said his father. "When she is once your wife trust +me to lower her loftiness, and make her as meek and humble as you could +wish. Let us go in now. How wildly this storm is driving! I hope it may +clear before the hour for the marriage arrives." Thus speaking, the +father and son entered the hall and sought their respective apartments. + +While this scene was passing on the piazza, Florence sat in her room +with her journal open on the table before her. + +"The last evening of my free, unfettered existence has drawn on," she +wrote. "How wildly shrieks the wind, driving great torrents of rain +against my curtained casements! It is fit a night like this should usher +in my day of doom. Father seems delighted with the approaching festival, +and mother has lost the dread she formerly evinced, which I now think +was occasioned by the fear of losing me from her side. Hannah is almost +wild with glee. She follows the steps of Rufus closely as his shadow. He +hates her, and in this one point our feelings sympathize, but in no +other. It is impossible to describe the loathing and abhorrence with +which I regard the man who in a few more hours will be my husband. O, +heavens! will no power save me from a fate so dreadful as a lifetime +passed with him? Alas, no! Our beautiful home is gone, and we are poor, +and had been shelterless but for these walls, which opened their doors +to take us in. And can I make so poor a return for this friendly +generosity, or so ungratefully scorn and reject the means presented to +reinstate my father in wealth and magnificence, as to refuse to perform +the act which will repay the kindness and restore to him the elegant +home whose loss he so deeply deplores? O, no! I must not be so selfish +and ungrateful. Still, it seems a great sacrifice even to insure a +father's ease and happiness. I have an increasing dread and horror of +this Col. Malcome, which I cannot overcome, despite all his apparent +generosity and sympathy in our misfortune, and lavish display of +profusion and splendor with which he surrounds this approaching bridal. +It seems to me all this munificence goes to serve some fell purpose of +his own. His strange power over my easy-natured father excites dark +apprehensions in my bosom. But why torture myself with imagined ills, +when the dread realities are sufficient to unnerve my soul! Now, amid +this piteous wailing of storm and wind, I write the last words on these +dear old leaves as Florence Howard, and betake me to my pillow,--but O, +not to sleep! The bride of to-morrow will make a sorry figure in her +silks and jewels." + + + + + CHAPTER XLIV. + + "As Heaven is my spirit's trust, + So may its gracious power + Be near to aid and strengthen me + When comes the trial hour." + + +The hour drew on; the guests assembled, and the minister waited the +entrance of the bridal party to perform the solemn ceremony. + +The storm drove wildly without the mansion, in strange contrast with the +glowing warmth and luxuriance of the apartments within. + +Col. Malcome sat on a velvet sofa, in graceful attire, supporting the +wasted form of his daughter; who, thin, pale, and white as the garb she +wore, leaned her head, all shorn of its beautiful curls, heavily against +his shoulder. It was a sad sight to behold that feeble, emaciated figure +rising from a bed of disease and pain, to mingle among the festive +groups which filled those splendid drawing-rooms. + +Suddenly there was a stir in the hall, and the bridal group entered. +Florence, with the tips of her gloved fingers just touching the arm of +the man who was in a few moments to become her husband, moved gracefully +to the seat assigned her. She was magnificently arrayed in rose-colored +satin, with an over-skirt of elegantly-wrought Parisian lace, and a +spray of pearls and diamonds flashed their brilliant rays through the +luxuriant dark curls that clustered round her pale, sweet brow, and fell +in rich profusion over her white, uncovered shoulders. + +Rufus was arrayed in a glossy garb of the finest black broadcloth, with +a spotless vest of pearl-tinted satin, and immaculate white kids. His +dark visage, small, peering black eyes, and low-bred, clownish aspect, +contrasted strangely with the brilliant creature at his side. + +The maids and groomsmen were in splendid attire, and looked proud and +delighted with the notice their position attracted from the assembled +groups. + +Then came Major Howard, with a beaming countenance; his invalid lady, +who had summoned all her strength and fortitude to be present on the +occasion, leaning on his arm. + +Col. Malcome rose politely and gave her a seat on the sofa beside his +daughter, assuming himself a chair on the opposite side of the room. + +Hannah Doliver, in a very elaborate dress of gay plaided silk, her jet +black hair twisted into wiry ringlets, sat before her mistress, holding +a fan and silver vial, to serve the invalid's need, should the unusual +excitement produce a sudden nervous attack. + +A significant glance was exchanged between Major Howard and Col. +Malcome, when the latter arose, and, bowing to the clergyman who was to +officiate on the occasion, said: "All is in readiness to proceed with +the ceremony." + +The man of God came slowly forward, with a grave and solemn aspect. As +he was about to request the bridal group to rise, a stamping of heavy +feet on the piazza outside the windows arrested his words; and directly +the hall door was flung open with furious vehemence, and a party, +consisting of four tall, brawny men, in dripping hats and overcoats, +rushed into the apartment, leaving the door wide open behind them, with +the storm rushing in upon the assembly in its wildest fury. + +Col. Malcome sprang to his feet, his face glowing with anger at this +most untimely and insulting intrusion. + +"_Arrest that man!_" exclaimed the foremost of the strangers, pointing +his arm toward the form of the colonel, who stood glowering upon the +speaker with wrathful aspect. + +"For what?" said Major Howard, leaping from his seat, as two strong men +rushed forward to execute the command. + +"For destroying your buildings by fire, on the night of the twelfth of +January last," said the man who had ordered the arrest, whom the major +now recognized as the sheriff of the county. + +"Prove your words! prove your words!" exclaimed Col. Malcome, darting +back from the grasp of the men who approached to imprison him. + +"I am prepared to do so," returned the sheriff, motioning a tall, lank +form, in a long overcoat and broad-brimmed hat, which stood near the +door, to advance. + +"You were in the grounds adjoining Major Howard's mansion on the night +of the twelfth of January last," said he, addressing the +singular-looking man, whose features were so entirely hidden by his +collar and hat-brim, as to be indiscernible. + +The figure bowed low in token of assent. + +"What did you see there?" + +The _Hermit of the Cedars_ hesitated a moment, as if to collect his +thoughts, while the gaze of every person in the room was riveted upon +him, and a breathless silence reigned as he commenced to speak in a low, +measured tone of assurance and courage. + +"I saw a man in dark clothes standing on the piazza of the doomed +mansion. A figure in female garb appeared from within, and, after a +brief, whispered conversation, left a small basket in his hand, and +retired whence she had come. Then the man, after glancing cautiously +around him, descended the steps and proceeded to light the fires. In +three different places the devouring element was kindled, and, as he +stooped to blow the light fragments with his breath, the flames suddenly +leaped forth and revealed in startling distinctness the face and +features of the incendiary. His hat had fallen to the ground and left +his head exposed, which was covered with a profusion of light, auburn +hair, clustering in short, thick curls around a high, pale forehead." + +Major Howard sprang from his seat. + +"Sir!" said he, darting an enraged glance on the strange man, "are you a +fool? Do you not see the hair of the man you would accuse is black as +midnight, while you affirm that of the one who fired my mansion to have +been of a flaxen hue?" + +The hermit seemed not in the least disconcerted by this speech. Raising +the long cane on which his arms had been resting, he lifted the black +cloud of curls from the head of Col. Malcome and dashed it upon the +floor. + +"Herbert Mervale!" shrieked the invalided Mrs. Howard. + +On hearing this voice the muffled man, who had thrown off his +broad-brimmed hat, turned suddenly round. + +"And Ralph Greyson!" she added. + +Then throwing her arms around the wasted form of Edith Malcome, she +exclaimed: "My daughter! my daughter! is it thus I find you?" and sank +insensible on the sofa beside her. + +Hannah Doliver sprang toward Rufus, covering him with kisses and calling +him her "dear, dear son." + +The young man threw her roughly to the floor, and, alarmed by the sudden +scene of tumult and confusion, rushed into the street. + +Florence clung close to the side of her father, who seemed struck dumb +with horror and amaze. + +At length the sheriff approached him. "Do you wish further proofs +against the man we accuse?" he demanded. + +"Take the villain away!" roared Major Howard, bursting suddenly into a +terrific ebullition of anger, "and burn him at the stake. Hanging is too +easy death for such a monster of wickedness!" + +The assembly, terrified by the angry, tumultuous scene, began to +disperse. + +"Pause for a brief moment, my friends," said the major, growing somewhat +calmer; "I have a few words of explanation 'tis meet you should hear. +That man," pointing to Col. Malcome, who stood in the strong grasp of +his keepers, glaring around him with the ferocity of a baffled tiger, +"is the wretch who married my sister to steal her fortune, and leave her +in poverty and distress with a young babe at her breast, to debauch +himself with her serving-woman, by whom he had also a child. There lies +the woman he has wronged," said he, his face growing fiercer, as he +pointed to the form of the supposed Mrs. Howard, cast lifelessly on the +sofa beside Edith Malcome, "at the feet of her daughter, and there +stands the vile creature," pointing a wrathful finger toward Hannah +Doliver, "who was his leman. But her bastard boy has fled the embrace of +his polluted mother. My sister returned to me, after suffering inhuman +barbarities from this monster, but he withheld her child. Her heart was +broken by misfortune, and her only wish was to pass the remainder of her +life in quiet and seclusion. My wife died when this dear girl was an +infant," said he, taking the hand of Florence in his, who stood with her +eyes fixed immovably on her father's face; "and I besought my sister to +stand in the place of a mother to my little daughter." + +Florence directed a quick, troubled glance toward the form which still +lay motionless on the sofa beside Edith, but did not move. + +"I have no more to say," resumed the major more calmly; "the artful +wickedness which has threatened my ruin is exposed. Officers of justice, +do your duty! Take Herbert Mervale from my presence!" + +The strong men grasped the form of the prisoner and marched him from the +room. The baffled villain made no resistance. He closed his eyes to +avoid beholding the loathing, abhorrent glances which were showered on +him from all sides. + +As the hermit was slowly following the receding group, Major Howard +stepped to his side, and, laying his hand lightly on his arm, said: + +"Will you not remain till the guests have retired?" + +"No," answered the recluse, shaking his head sadly, "I have done my duty +and had better depart." + +"You have saved me from destruction," said Major Howard, in a tone +trembling with grateful emotion, as he seized the thin, emaciated hand +of the hermit, and pressed it warmly to his bosom; "how shall I reward +you?" + +"I seek no reward from your generosity," returned the solitary, escaping +from the grasp which detained him; "the consciousness of having done +right is sufficient recompense." + +Thus speaking, he turned away. Major Howard returned to the parlors. The +guests were departing, and the several members of the family had +disappeared. + +He hurried to the apartment occupied by his sister, and there beheld her +and Edith lying side by side, apparently in tranquil sleep, with +Florence and Sylva, Edith's maid, watching at the bed-side. + +Hannah Doliver was nowhere to be seen. + +Florence advanced to meet her father, and, twining her arm +affectionately round his neck, turned a tender glance on the pale faces +of the sleepers, and said: + +"O, father! father! let us kneel by this low couch and thank God for +this merciful deliverance!" + + + + + CHAPTER XLV. + + ---------------------"All this is well; + For this will pass away, and be succeeded + By an auspicious hope, which shall look up + With calm assurance to that blessed place + Which all who seek may win, whatever be + Their earthly errors, so they be atoned; + And the commencement of atonement is + The sense of its necessity." + + +Baby No. 2, had appeared at the home of Mrs. Salsify Mumbles, and the +delighted grandmother held the tiny little creature this way and that +way, gazing on its features with the most doting fondness, and nearly +smothering it with affectionate kisses. + +And baby No. 2 did not squeal like its lusty-lunged predecessor. O, no! +it had the softest little feminine quackle, for all the world like a +downy young gosling; and Mrs. Salsify said she would have it called +Goslina, it quackled so sweetly. So Goslina Shaw was the euphonious +sobriquet of baby No. 2, and the joyful grandame returned it to the bed +beside the pale face of its mother, where 'twas quackling off to sleep, +when Mr. Salsify came in from the store, his features glowing, as if he +had some startling intelligence to convey. + +"My sakes! what is it, Mr. Mumbles?" asked the fond wife quickly marking +her husband's excited manner. + +"I guess folks will have something to talk about besides my getting +gagged at the Woman's Convention," said Mr. Salsify, rather maliciously, +drawing a chair before the grate and placing his feet on the fender. + +"Why, what has happened?" inquired his wife, eagerly. + +"Enough has happened," returned he, "if all Martha Pinkerton has just +been telling me is true." + +"Where did you see her?" asked Mrs. Salsify. + +"She came into the store to-night to buy a chunk of cheese; so I asked +her what was the news? when she told me of the awfulest tragedy that +occurred at Col. Malcome's the night they undertook to get Florence +Howard married to the colonel's son." + +"O, mercy, who was killed?" exclaimed Mrs. S., with uplifted hands. + +"Nobody as I know of," returned Mr. Mumbles, whose ideas of a tragedy +were different from those of his good wife; "but then the whole company +might have been, for they had a murderer amongst them." + +"Mercy to me, how awful!" said Mrs. Salsify. "What was his name and how +did he get there?" + +"His name was Col. Malcome, and he got there by his own wickedness." + +"You don't mean to tell me that handsome Col. Malcome is a murderer!" +exclaimed Mrs. Salsify, with terror depicted on her features. + +"Yes I do, and worse than that; he burned Major Howard's house, and +tried to get his pretty daughter married to her own brother." + +"How can Rufus Malcome be a brother to Florence Howard?" asked Mrs. +Mumbles, in amaze. "You are talking nonsense to me, I fear." + +"O, no," returned her husband. "I tell you this Colonel Malcome has +turned out the strangest. He is Major Howard's mother, and Dilly +Danforth's aunt, and that old hermit's sister, and the Lord knows who +and what else; but they have carried him off to jail, so there'll be no +chance for him to burn any more houses." + +Here Mr. Mumbles drew a long breath and rested a while. + +"I am glad I didn't marry him," said a feeble voice from the bed. + +"So am I, my daughter," said the father quickly; "and you may thank me +for having saved you from a fate so deplorable. Your mother was mightily +taken with this colonel when he came fawning round us, and she was +pretty cross when I told her it would not do to let him marry you. I +knew that great black head was full of wickedness, and so it has +proved." + +Mrs. Salsify sat rather uneasily while her husband vaunted his superior +knowledge of human nature, but the gentle Goslina began to quackle from +the bed, and she soon forgot all else in care for the dear little +creature. + +While this conversation was passing at the home of the Mumbles, the +Hermit of the Cedars sat before the glowing fire which brightened the +rough walls of Dilly Danforth's humble abode. He had acknowledged +himself as her long-absent brother, and great was her joy at beholding +him again, though she grieved to know how one deep sorrow had blasted +his early promise and made him a wretched, solitary recluse. + +"I fear," said she, at length, "you must still feel bitterly toward me +for the low connection I was so unfortunate as to form, which biased the +mind of your fair lady's brother against your suit." + +"No, my sister," returned the hermit, in a tone of tender sadness; "I +deeply regret the harshness and wrong I visited upon you in the wild +fury of that early disappointment, for I have learned no act of yours +influenced Major Howard against my suit. It was the wily artfulness of +my rival, who breathed specious tales of my unworthiness in the ear of +the brother, and caused her, the fair, unsuspecting girl, to turn from +me and give her hand to Mervale." + +The hermit's voice trembled as he pronounced these latter words, and he +bowed his head in silence. The sister pitied the sorrow which she knew +not how to soothe. + +At length Willie entered, his face all bright with smiles. + +"What makes you look so glad?" asked his mother, gazing with fond +admiration on the tall, handsome boy; for she still regarded him as a +child, though he was nearly grown to man's estate. + +"I have got something for Uncle Ralph," said he, looking cunningly in +the hermit's face. + +"What is it, William?" inquired he, with a solemn smile. + +The youth drew a letter from his pocket and placed it in his uncle's +hand. + +"It is from Edgar," said he, eagerly breaking the seal. + +All were silent while he was occupied in the perusal. + +"Edgar has received the disclosures in regard to the pretended Col. +Malcome with unaffected astonishment," remarked the hermit, as he +refolded the letter and placed it in his bosom. "He appears delighted to +learn that Willie Danforth, of whom he has heard me speak so +regardfully, is his cousin, and sends much love to him and also to his +new-found aunt." + +Mrs. Danforth looked gratified at these words, as did also Willie. + +"I am sure I want to see him very much," said the latter. "When is he +coming home, uncle?" + +"In summer, when the woods are green, he says," returned the hermit; "he +is now taking sketches in the vicinity of Richmond, Va." + +"Was his father an artist?" asked Mrs. D. + +"Yes," answered the recluse. "I well remember where sister Fanny first +met him, and how quick a wild, deep love grew out of the romantic +adventure. It was a few months after we left this country--I to forget +in travel my cankering sorrows, she to companion my wanderings. How it +affects me now to think that we left you in suffering poverty without +even a kind good-by! Our shares in the estate of our deceased parents +furnished us with funds for travel, while yours had been squandered by a +dissolute man. But we should have given you of ours to alleviate your +wants and distresses. Fanny often told me so; but my worst passions were +roused by the misfortune I conceived you had helped to bring upon me, +and I would not hear her pleadings in your behalf. What a hard-hearted +wretch I have been!" + +The hermit paused and covered his face. + +Willie looked from his uncle to his mother, and at length approached +him. "Do not fall into one of your gloomy reveries," said he; "tell us +more of Edgar's mother." + +"Ay, yes," said the hermit, rousing himself; "I was speaking of her +first meeting with her future husband. It was among the ruins of the +Eternal City. She had wandered forth by herself one day, and, +intoxicated by the scenes that met her eye on every hand, roamed so far +that when the shades of night began to fall, she discovered herself in +the midst of gloomy, crumbling walls and tottering columns, without +knowing whither to direct her steps. While she stood indeterminate, a +gentleman approached, and kindly inquired if she had lost her way. She +answered in the affirmative, and he offered to escort her home. I +remember how glowing bright was her face that night, as she came +bounding up the steps of our habitation, and presented the 'young artist +she had found beneath the walls of Rome,' as she termed her companion, +and laughingly recounted her adventure. I believe our family are +predisposed to strong feelings, for I never witnessed a love more +engrossing than was hers for the young Lindenwood; nor was his devotion +to her less remarkable. They were married, and I left them to pursue my +wanderings alone. + +"When, after a lapse of several years, I returned, it was to stand over +their death-beds, and receive their boy under my protection. His father +was rich, and a large fortune was left to his only child. A few more +years I roamed, and then with the young Edgar sought my native shores. + +"You know the rest. It is a long yarn I have spun you," said he, rising, +"and I marvel you are not both asleep." + +"Are you going back to the forest to-night?" asked Mrs. Danforth, as he +wrapped the long coat about his thin form, and placed the broad-brimmed +hat over his gray locks. + +"Yes, Delia," answered he. "I sleep best with the roar of the cedars in +my ears." + +"I will go with you," said Willie, springing for his cap. + +The twain set forth together, while the lonely woman sought her couch +and thought mournfully of long-past days and years. + + + + + CHAPTER XLVI. + + "She is a bustling, stalwart dame, and one + That well might fright a timid, modest man. + Look how she swings her arms, and treads the floor + With direful strides!" + + +It was a bright, sunny spring morning, and Wimbledon was beautiful in +budding foliage, singing blue-birds and placid little river, with the +sunbeams silvering its ripply surface. + +The windows of Mr. Pimble's kitchen were raised and therein Peggy Nonce +moved vigorously to and fro, with rolled-up sleeves and glowing face, +stirring a great fire which roared and crackled in the jaws of a huge +oven, and then back to the pantry, where she wielded the sceptre of an +immense rolling-pin triumphantly over whole trays of revolting +pie-crust, marched forth long files of submissive pies, and lodged them +in the red-hot prison. + +While the stalwart house-keeper was thus occupied, Mr. Pimble, with a +yellow silk handkerchief tied over his straggling locks, and his pale, +palm-figured wrapper drawn closely around him, scraped the stubbed claw +of a worn-out corn broom over the kitchen floor, clapping his heelless +slippers after him as he moved slowly along. Peggy never heeded him at +all, but rushed to and fro, as if there had been no presence in the +kitchen save her own, often dragging the dirt away, on her trailing +skirts, just as the indefatigable sweeper had collected it in a pile. + +All at once, pert little Susey Pimble opened the parlor door and +swinging herself outward, said, "I want the dining-room castors and +tea-cups, and mamma says I am to have them and you are to come and give +them to me." + +The father rested his arms on the broom handle, and turning his face +toward his hopeful daughter, who was a "scion of the old stock," said, +"I will come soon as I have swept the floor." + +"I cannot wait," returned Susey, sharply, "I must have them this +moment." + +The father laid down his broom passively, and saying, "What an impatient +little miss you are!" clappered off to the dining-room, and brought +forth the desired articles on a waiter. + +Miss Susey, all atilt with delight, danced forward and caught it from +her father's hands; but its weight proved too much for her little arms, +and down it went to the floor with a fearful crash! Susey sprang back +with a frightened aspect at the mischief she had done, and Peggy Nonce, +dropping her rolling-pin, rushed out of the pantry and beheld the +fragments of broken china scattered over the floor. Her face crimsoned +with anger. + +"What a destructive little minx!" she exclaimed, glaring on the +offending Susey. "How dared you meddle with those dishes?" + +"Mamma said I might have them to play house with," answered Susey, with +flashing eyes. + +"Who ever heard of such a thing as giving a child a china tea set to +play with?" said Peggy, holding up her bare, brawny arms in amazement. + +"My mother has heard of such a thing; and she knows more than fifteen +women like you, old aunt Peggy Nonce," returned Miss Susey, with the air +of a tragedy queen. + +The unusual sounds aroused Mrs. Pimble, who appeared at the parlor door +with a goose-quill behind her ear, and a written scroll in her hand. +When her eyes fell on the spectacle in the centre of the kitchen, she +stamped violently, and exclaimed, in a tempestuous tone, "What does this +mean?" Mr. Pimble slunk away into a corner, while Peggy pursed up her +lips with a defiant expression, and Susey grew suddenly very meek and +blushing-faced. + +Mrs. Pimble's eyes followed her husband. "You crawling, contemptible +thing," she exclaimed, "have you grown so stupid and insensate that you +cannot comprehend a simple question? Again I demand of you, what does +this mean?" and she pointed her finger sternly to the broken fragments +which strewed the floor. + +"Susey said you told her she might have the castors and tea things, and +that I was to give them to her," said Mr. Pimble, without lifting his +eyes from the hearth he was contemplating. + +"Very well, I did tell Susey she might have the articles mentioned to +amuse herself with, and it was fitting she should have them, or I had +not given my consent. But why do I find them dashed to the floor and +rendered useless? Answer me that, you slip-shod sloven?" + +With an awful air, Mrs. Pimble folded her arms and looked down upon her +husband, who cringed away before her ireful presence, and said, "Susey +dropped the waiter." + +"Dropped the waiter!" repeated Mrs. Pimble, her anger freshening to a +gale. "And could you not prevent her from dropping it? or had you no +more sense than to load an avalanche of china on the arms of a little +child?" + +"She took the waiter from me," said Pimble, in a dogged tone, his eyes +still studying the tiles in the hearth. + +Mrs. Pimble darted upon him one glance of the most withering contempt, +and taking Susey by the hand led her from the room, without deigning to +utter another word. + +Soon as she disappeared Peggy set about clearing up the broken crockery, +and Mr. Pimble crawled off into the recess of a window where the sun +might shine on his shivering frame, and at length fell asleep. He had +hardly concluded his first dream of fragmentary tea-cups, ere a violent +pulling at his draggling coat-tails, which hung over the sill, caused +him to wake with a start, when he beheld Peggy Nonce at his side, +saying, "Dilly Danforth was come to see him." With a hopeless yawn he +crawled out of his sunny nook, and, turning his dull, sleepy eyes toward +the disturber of his quiet, demanded, in a surly tone, "what she wanted +with him." + +"I have come to pay my quarter's rent," said Mrs. Danforth, placing a +bank note in his grimy hand. He closed his skinny fingers on it with an +eager clutch, and looked in the woman's face with a vague expression of +wonder. + +"I am glad to get a shilling from you at last," said he, fondling the +note; "but this will not quite pay up the last quarter's rent. There's +about half a dollar more my due. You can come and do the spring +cleaning, and then I'll call matters square between us." + +"I thought ten dollars was the sum specified, for three months' rent," +remarked Mrs. Danforth. + +"It was," returned he, "but you know you had the pig's feet and ears at +the fall butchering, and Mrs. Pimble gave you a petticoat in the winter. +These things would amount to more than fifty cents, if I put their real +value upon them; but as you have cashed this payment, I will, as I said +before, call all square with a few days' light work from you." + +Mrs. Danforth drew another note from her pocket, and, placing it in his +hand, asked him to satisfy himself of his claims upon her, as she could +not favor him with her services as he desired, having work of her own to +do. Mr. Pimble looked still more astonished when he felt the second note +between his fingers. He put it in his pocket and returned her a silver +piece. She took it, and, turning to depart, said, "I shall not want your +house any longer, Mr. Pimble. I am going to move away to-day." + +"Where are you going?" he asked, opening his sleepy eyes very wide. + +"I have hired a room in Deacon Allen's cottage," answered she. "It is +near the seminary, where William attends school." + +Mr. Pimble continued to stare on the woman, with distended eyeballs. + +"You have been a very peaceable tenant," he said at length; "I would +rent my house cheaper, if you would remain another year." + +"I have made my arrangements to move, and would prefer to do so," +returned Mrs. Danforth, bidding him good-morning. + +He looked very much disconcerted after she was gone, and muttered, he +"did not see what had set Dilly Danforth up so, all at once." + + + + + CHAPTER XLVII. + + "'Tis silent all!--but on my ear + The well-remembered echoes thrill; + I hear a voice I should not hear, + A voice that now might well be still. + Yet oft my doubting soul 't will shake; + Even slumber owns its gentle tone, + Till consciousness will vainly wake, + To listen though the dream be flown." + + +"O, it is ever the wildest storms that lull to the sweetest calms!" +wrote Florence Howard, on a new-turned leaf of her well-treasured +journal. "My heart is singing grateful anthems to the all-wise Father, +who stretched forth his friendly arm to save me from the 'snare of the +spoiler.' As I sit here to-night, with a young May moon gleaming down +through the far depths of liquid ether, like a sweet, angel face of pity +and love, how dimly o'er my memory come the stormy scenes of sin and +passion which conspired to render terrible the winter that has passed +away! My soul, long torn and rent by grief and wild-contending emotions, +grows tranquil in the calm and quiet which have succeeded the furious +storm, and settles to peaceful rest. + +"It is enough for me to know my father's wrongs are righted and I am +still his own, and only his. The clown, from whose polluting arms kind +Providence rescued me, has never shown his hateful form among us since +the day that witnessed the disclosure of his father's baseness. His vile +mother has also disappeared, in search of her son. Great Heaven! to +think I was so near becoming the wife of that woman's child of sin; and, +but for that strange, wild hermit, who lifted the black curls that +veiled the monster who sought our destruction, O, where had we all been +now? And was it not a striking instance of Jehovah's righteous +retributions, that the man who was once the betrothed of my aunt, should +be the instrument selected by Heaven to disclose the villany and +wickedness of the wretch who seduced her affections by artful +falsehoods, and made her his wife, but to steal her fortune and blast +her life? Poor, dear aunt Mary! I mourn not nor pine to find she is not +my mother, for surely the fragile Edith, so rudely shocked by the +disclosures of her father's crimes, would have drooped and died, had she +not found a mother's fond affection to comfort and sustain her in the +trial hour. It is a beautiful sight, this reuenion of parent and child. +How trustingly they cling to each other, and how their wan aspects +brighten in the warmth of their mutual affection! But I think there's a +love in the mother's heart yet stronger than that she feels for her +child. I watch her emotional excitement when the name of the hermit is +mentioned, and I think that early devotion has survived all +disappointments and afflictions. What a romantic thing it would be for +them to meet in the evening of life and renew the promises of their +youth! But it may not be, for the conviction steals coldly o'er me that +my dear aunt has been too deeply tried to long survive her sorrows. Even +the joy of discovering a daughter may not save her from the tomb which +opens to receive her weary form in its oblivious arms. Father looks on +the thin, wasted form, following Edith closely as her shadow, with a +fond, earnest gaze fixed on the gentle girl, and turns to hide a tear. +O, would the blow might be a while averted! All is so bright and sunny +around us now. I even try to nurse the belief that I _could_ not be +happier, but my heart will rebel against the specious falsehood. Still, +still it wears the fetters love so enduringly fastened. Still I remember +that double dawn which rose on me as I stood on the cloud-veiled summit +of old, hoary-headed Mount Washington. + + 'And I saw it with such feeling, joy in blood and heart and brain, + I would give, to call the affluence of that moment back again, + Europe, with her cities, rivers, hills of prey, sheep-sprinkled downs, + Ay, an hundred sheaves of sceptres, ay, a planet's gathered crowns,' + +"But I must not write thus, lest I grow ungrateful for the mercies of a +gracious Providence. Let me thank my God for his remembrance in the hour +of sorest need, and lie down to slumber." + +She closed her book, and, dropping softly on her knees before the low +curtained couch, leaned her young head, with its dark, clustering curls, +against the white cushions, and remained several moments in silent +prayer. Then rising, she closed the casements and retired to rest. + + + + + CHAPTER XLVIII. + + "Come rest in this bosom, my own stricken deer, + Though the herd should fly from thee, thy home is still here. + + * * * + + I know not, I ask not, if guilt's in thy heart; + I but know that I love thee, whatever thou art!" + + +A graceful form bent over a printed page, and by the light of a waxen +taper, devoured its startling contents. Ah, how awfully startling to the +reader! for it was Louise Edson poreing over the disclosures of Col. +Malcome's wickedness and crime. But, as she drew toward the close, a +sudden ray of light struggled through the anguish and misery which had +cast her features into utter darkness, when her eye first lighted on the +glaring capitals of the criminal's name. Concealing the paper which +contained the fearful tale of his guilt, she hastened to her own +apartment. + +As the shades of the following evening drew on, a female figure, wrapped +in a large shawl, with her features closely veiled, stood at the iron +door of the huge, black jail, and besought an entrance. + +"Who do you wish to see?" demanded the jailer, in a coarse, rough tone, +seeking to penetrate the veil with his impertinent eyes. + +She breathed a low word in his ear. The man started. + +"Is it possible you wish to behold a wretch like him?" exclaimed he. + +The lady drew up her slight form with an air of dignity, and said, +"Deliver my message, and bring me his answer!" + +Awed by her manner, the jailer hastened his steps to obey her command. + +The door of a gloomy cell on the second floor of the huge building +opened with a harsh, grating sound, and the man stepped in and secured +the door behind him. The prisoner, who was sitting beside a table, with +pen and paper before him, turned round and fixed his eyes upon the +intruder. "What do you want?" asked he. "When you use double bolts and +bars to secure me, is it necessary to come every hour to see if I have +not escaped?" + +"I have not come to satisfy myself of your safety," returned the jailer, +scowling on the speaker. "There's a woman at the outer door who wants to +know if you will grant her a brief interview." + +The prisoner started abruptly at these words. "What is her name?" +demanded he, quickly. + +"I do not know," answered the man. "She did not tell me; but she seemed +mighty impatient for an answer to her request." + +The prisoner bowed his head and sat in silence several moments. At +length he said, "Bring her in! I have a curiosity to know what woman +would penetrate these walls to seek an interview with me." + +The jailer disappeared. In a few moments footsteps were heard along the +dark passage, a female form was ushered into the cheerless apartment, +and the lock turned harshly upon her. Then a white hand was laid lightly +on the bright curling locks of the bowed head, and a low voice whispered +in the ear of the incarcerated man, "It is a pitiful heart that forgets +a friend in adversity." + +"Louise!" said the prisoner, shrinking away with evident pain from her +touch. "Why are you here?" + +"To cheer you,--to comfort you," said she, earnestly regarding his pale, +handsome features. + +But he turned away from her gaze, shaking his head mournfully. "This is +the deepest humiliation I have yet endured," he said, while a creeping +shudder convulsed his frame. "To feel those clear eyes fastened upon me, +piercing through and through my soul, and reading all the guilt and +crime that's written there. O, Louise! was it not enough to drive me, by +your unrelenting scorn and bitterness, to commit the act which has +brought me here, without seeking to torment your victim by penetrating +his dungeon to mock at the misfortune your own cruelty occasioned?" + +He raised his pale, distressed face imploringly to hers as he ceased to +speak; but she started back from her position at his side, and with an +angry accent said, "I do not understand how any fell influence of mine +should cause you to break the heart of an innocent woman by your guilty +conduct with another." + +"I did not seek to refer the blame of those early sins to any influence +of yours," he answered. "How could I, when they were committed before +your birth? In the very dust I acknowledge those deeds of villany and +vileness. But too late is my grief and repentance. The blow has fallen, +and my doom is fixed." + +He leaned his arms forward upon the table, and, sinking his head upon +them, uttered a low groan of hopeless, despairing misery. + +Tears sprang to Louise's eyes, and, approaching, she dropped on her +knees at his side, and laid her hand on his arm, "Do you remember a +promise I gave you long ago?" she asked softly. "If I have seemed +forgetful, let me renew it now." + +He still retained his attitude of dejection, and seemed regardless of +her pleading tones. + +"You will not hear me," she said at length, in a voice broken with +grief, "when I kneel at your feet and ask your pardon." + +"_You_ kneel to _me_!" said he, suddenly grasping her arm and striving +to raise her from the humble position. "Rise, I entreat, if you would +not drive me mad!" + +She stood before him, with tears falling fast from her beautiful eyes. +"Who is the cruel one now?" she asked. "Who throws me aside and refuses +forgiveness when it is repentantly implored?" + +"What signifies the pardon of a wretch like me?" said he, in a tone of +agony. "What is he? what can he be to you?" + +Turning her head aside, she said in a soft, trembling voice, "He is what +he has ever been, and still may be,--my world of love and happiness!" +Her cheeks flushed, as, lifting her eyes, she encountered his earnest +gaze. She sought to move away, but he was by her side. "Louise! Louise!" +said he, in a tone of thrilling emotion, "Dare I hope that you love me +still?" + +There was no word; but she put her arm round his neck and sank weeping +on his bosom. He pressed her again and again to his heart. "Ah, indeed!" +said he, at length, "this is the luxury of woe. To know at last this +love is mine, and be separated forever from its dear embraces by the +cold walls of a prison. Stern justice can inflict no pang like this." + +"Talk not of separation," said she, lifting her head, and revealing a +face redolent with happiness. "No hand shall take me from you save the +hand of death!" + +He gazed with unspeakable tenderness on her glowing features, and said +sorrowfully, "My wickedness does not deserve this angel-comforter. Why +did you withhold this blessed consolation when the world smiled brightly +on me?" + +"To bestow it when the world had cast you off," said she; "to think of +you at your best, when it had made your name a by-word and reproach." + +He pressed his lips tenderly to the white, upturned brow, and drew her +to a seat. A half-hour passed in low, earnest conversation, when the +grating of the iron key aroused them, and Louise had only time to draw +her veil over her features when the jailer entered. "I am ready to +follow you," she said, advancing toward him. + +He held the heavy door asunder, and, with one lingering glance on the +form of the prisoner, she went forth and followed her guide through the +dark passages, and down the steep flights of stairs. He unlocked the +street-door, and she stepped lightly forth beneath the light of the +stars. + + + + + CHAPTER XLIX. + + "They loved;--and were beloved. O happiness. + I have said all that can be said of bliss + In saying that they loved. The young heart has + Such store of wealth in its own fresh, wild pulse, + And it is love that works the mind, and brings + Its treasure to the light. I did love once, + Loved as youth, woman, genius loves; though now + My heart is chilled and seared, and taught to wear + The falsest of false things--a mask of smiles; + Yet every pulse throbs at the memory + Of that which has been." + + +Summer showered her wealth of roses over the gardens and grassy paths of +Wimbledon. Day after day the sound of the busy hammer rang out on the +scented air, and crowds of workmen were seen at eventide hurrying to +their separate places of abode. Great teams, loaded with fancy and +ornamental wood and iron work, labored through the streets, and "Summer +Home" was rising from its ruins in all its former magnificence and +splendor. + +Major Howard decided he could not use the confiscated wealth of the +pretended Col. Malcome for a better purpose than to rebuild the mansion +his wickedness had destroyed. + +Florence was delighted at the prospect of regaining the beautiful home +she had lost; for, elegant and luxurious as was her present abode, she +was disquieted by too frequent remembrance of the terrible scenes she +had witnessed beneath its roof. Still, the Howards were for the most +part very happy. Edith's bright head was again covered with its golden +wealth of curls, and her merry laughter echoed joyously through the +halls and parlors of the proud mansion. It seemed her greatest delight +to bring a smile to the wan cheek of her mother, who was failing slowly, +even beneath the genial influence of a summer sun. + +As Florence stood on the vine-curtained terrace one balmy August +morning, inhaling the sweet air, and listening to the thrilling +warblings of Edith's pet canaries, as they swung in their wire-wrought +cages from the roof above, she beheld Willie Danforth coming up the +garden path, holding a letter toward her in his cunning, tempting way. +She extended her hand to receive it. + +"No," said he, suddenly drawing it back. "I don't think I'll let you +have this tiny little missive, unless you will first promise to tell me +who is the writer." + +"Why, how can I tell you till I know myself?" said she, still reaching +for the letter, which he continued to withhold, smiling at her eager, +impatient aspect. + +His frolicsome habit of teasing gently any one he loved always reminded +her of Edgar Lindenwood, and he was very like his cousin in personal +appearance. So thought Florence; and he and his mother, who lived in a +room of Dea. Allen's cottage, just across the garden, became marked +favorites of hers. + +At length Willie gave her the letter. She broke the seal quickly, and +hurried through the contents. + +"I'll tell you who 'tis from, gladly," said she, with a bright smile; +"for I fancy it will afford you pleasure to know. Do you remember a +little girl, named Ellen Williams, who used to trip over the piazza we +stand on now?" + +The young man's face brightened and blushed as he replied eagerly, + +"That do I, and her brother Neddie." + +"Well, they are both coming here to make me a nice, long visit," said +she, in a delighted tone. "Is not this happy news?" + +"It is, indeed," answered Willie; "but where did you make their +acquaintance, Florence?" + +"During the period of my travels they were my constant companions. I +recollect how eagerly Ellen inquired for you, when we first met at +Niagara; but I was then almost ignorant of your existence, and could +give her no satisfactory information. I told her there was a youth I had +heard called Willie Greyson, who lived with a hermit; and she said +Greyson was your mother's maiden name; but so dutiful and affectionate a +son as you would never leave a lonely, widowed parent to dwell with a +solitary hermit. So she would believe you were dead." + +"And did that belief appear to cause her any regret?" asked William, who +had been listening with an earnest expression to Florence's words. + +"Yes, indeed," returned she; "the pretty, gentle girl has a strong +regard for you, Willie. You must renew acquaintance when she and her +brother come to pay me their long-meditated visit." + +"I don't know," said the young man, rather sadly. + +"I believe you will be a second Hermit of the Cedars, or the Hemlocks, +or the Pines," said she, laughing; "for you are already half as +melancholy as your uncle, at times." + +"Do you consider him so very gloomy, then?" asked Willie. + +"He has the most mournful expression I ever saw," answered Florence; +"but he is an entertaining companion for all that. I always sit apart, +and listen in silence, when he relates some tale or adventure of his +extensive travels. He was with us yesterday evening, and I never saw him +so animated and lively before. Even Aunt Mary's pale, grief-worn +countenance assumed a cheerful expression while listening to his +sprightly, intelligent conversation." + +"Did you not know the cause of his unusual exhilaration?" inquired +William. + +"No," said Florence, looking innocently in the face of the questioner. + +"Edgar is at home." + +"Why did he not inform us of his nephew's return?" asked Florence, +growing suddenly very pale, and finding it convenient to lean against a +pillar near by. + +"Perhaps he did not think the intelligence would interest your family," +returned Willie; "he is very modest in his confidences." + +The seminary bell now commenced to ring, and the youth hastened away +with a pleasant good-morning. + +Florence stood there a long time, behind the thickly-interwoven +woodbines and honeysuckles, supporting herself against the marble +column, forgetful of all save the blissful thought that the man she +loved was once more near her. He was, indeed, nearer than she supposed, +for there came a light footstep on the vine-shrouded terrace, and she +felt an arm stealing softly around her, while a voice, whose briefest +tone she could never mistake, whispered in her ear: + +"Again we have met, and O, Florence! say, in mercy say, it shall be to +part no more!" + +There is nothing so natural, to a woman that loves, as the presence of +the beloved object; and Florence turned toward Edgar with no amazement +or surprise; but love unspeakable lighted her features as she placed her +hand in his, tenderly, trustfully, and with a manner that convinced him +she would never withdraw it again. + +Then she led him into the drawing-room, where the family soon assembled, +and were presented to the young artist. + +Aunt Mary was delighted with his appearance, and soon engaged him in a +conversation which grew very brilliant and animated on his part, and was +joined in by Florence and Edith, till Major Howard entered, whose joy at +again beholding his former travelling companion knew no bounds, and the +mirth and merriment increased four-fold. Evening had fallen ere they +were aware, when Edgar rose and said he must return to the hermit's +habitation. + +All regretted to lose his presence, and Major Howard strongly invited +him to regard his mansion as a home while he should remain in the +vicinity. + +Edgar thanked him for his generous offer, and gracefully bowed a +good-evening. + +Florence accompanied him to the hall door, and he drew her forth on the +terrace, which was now glinted over by the silvery moonbeams. + +"Come soon again," said she. + +"Yes, dearest," he answered. A long, sweet kiss and gentle adieu, in +which there was love enough to feast even her long-famishing soul, and +he was gone. + +She skipped lightly into the parlor, kissed her father, Aunt Mary, +Edith, Sylva, and Fido, the little Spanish poodle that was nestled in +her arms, and then bounded up the stairs to her own apartment, singing +as she went. + +"There goes the happiest heart in Wimbledon, to-night," said her father, +as he caught the sound of her musical voice ringing through the spacious +hall above. + +"Save one," said Aunt Mary, with a sad smile. + +"He is beyond its precincts," returned Major Howard. "Edith, did you +ever love?" said he, quickly turning his discourse toward the gentle +girl, who stood, regarding attentively the faces of the speakers, as if +she hardly comprehended their words. + +"No," answered she, innocently. + +"Heaven grant you never may," said her mother, fervently; "come, my +child, let us seek the quiet of our own apartment." + +Edith threw her arm affectionately round the wasted form. + +"Good-night, uncle," said she, and they all disappeared. + + + + + CHAPTER L. + + "We leave them at the portal + Of earthly happiness; + We pray the power immortal + May hover o'er to bless; + And strew their future pathway + With flowers of peace and love, + Till death shall call their spirits + To Eden realms above." + + +When "Summer Home" rose complete in its beautiful architectural design, +with its wealth of foliage and flowers all in wildest, richest +profusion, a young bride walked under the trailing vines which overhung +the marble-supported terrace, and a manly form at her side opened the +hall door and ushered her into the magnificent drawing-rooms. It was +Florence Lindenwood. + +Then a carriage came rolling up the long avenue of cedars, conveying +Major Howard, his sister, Edith, and Sylva, with the lap-dog and pet +canaries in her care, to the newly-completed mansion. What a regal home +they entered, and how proud and happy were their beaming faces! + +The day was passed with a social group of friends, among whom Ned +Williams, his sister Ellen, and young Willie Danforth, were the most +lively and mirthful. At night-fall the hermit appeared, and was warmly +received. He sat down by aunt Mary, and conversed calmly, as was his +wont. + +Florence glanced about the apartment in search of her husband, wondering +that he did not come forward to welcome his uncle, but he had +disappeared. She flew up stairs to their apartment, and beheld him +sitting before a table, apparently absorbed in the contents of some +volume. Stepping softly forward, she leaned over his shoulder. He was +reading her journal. + +"Thief!" she exclaimed, covering the page with her little white hands, +"where did you find this?" + +"It attracted my notice this morning when I was packing your books for +removal," returned he. "I did not know I was so well loved before, +Florence," he added, with a provoking smile. + +"Look out that I do not cease to love you altogether," said she, shaking +her tiny finger playfully in his face, "if you steal into my private +affairs in this way. But come below now," she continued, taking his +hand; "uncle Ralph has arrived and waits to see you." + +They descended to the parlor, and after the pleasant evening was passed +and the guests severally departed, the hermit presented to his nephew +the fortune left him by his long-deceased father. It was much larger +than Edgar had ever supposed. He amply remunerated the care and +protection of his kind guardian, and besought him to forsake the +forest-hut and dwell beneath his grateful roof. But the recluse waived +the entreaties of the young, happy couple. + +He "could not desert his home in the cedars. It was the spot where the +most placid years of his life had been passed. He would frequently visit +the abode of Edgar, and also that of his lately-recovered sister, but +still chose to retain the wild-wood habitation as a retreat when +melancholy moods rendered him unfit for all society, and he could only +find consolation in the lone solitude of nature." + +So, with a fervent blessing on their bright young heads, he departed on +his solitary way to the distant forest. + +And the starry night stole on, while all was quiet and peaceful above +and around the mansion of "Summer Home." + + + + + THE LAST CHAPTER. + + "Let's part in friendship, + And say good-night." + + +Shadowy-vested romance, that whilom roamed the grassy paths and +flower-strewn ways of Wimbledon, is wrapping the heavy folds of her +dew-moistened mantle around her, and stealing silently away. Yet for a +moment let her turn a parting glance toward the motley groups which have +companioned her midnight rambles, and are seen passing in the distance +with their eyes fixed steadily on her receding form. + +Foremost in the crowding phalanx we mark the firm, upright figure of Mr. +Salsify Mumbles, and his commanding aspect and majestic tread assure us +that he has "risen in his profession" to the airy summit of his most +ambitious aspirations. We fancy another story has crowned his mansion, +and a second piazza stretched its snowy palings around its painted +walls. Beside him is his amiable wife, with the sweet baby Goslina, in a +robe of dimity, pressed close to her affectionate shoulder, quackling +softly as they pass along. + +Close behind is Mary Madeline and her tender spouse, a hand of each +given to their hopeful son, who, ever and anon, turns his mites of eyes +up to his parents' faces and utters a piercing squeal. + +Then Miss Martha Pinkerton comes primly on, with Mrs. Stanhope at her +side, who turns often with a friendly glance toward a happy-seeming +couple that walk apart, as if their chief enjoyment was in each other's +society. + +"You have rescued and redeemed me," whispered a manly voice in the ear +of the graceful figure which leaned so confidingly on his arm. + +"Let us forget the past and be happy," said his companion, lifting her +clear eyes to his eloquent face. + +Their forms faded from our vision, and the pleasant reverie into which +we were sinking to weave fair garlands, to crown their future years, was +rudely broken by a ranting bustle and confusion. Philanthropy was +sweeping past. + +Mrs. Pimble, in nankin bloomers, with pert Susey clinging to the hem of +her brief skirt, stalked on with angry stride, vociferating at the top +of her voice. + +Mrs. Lawson towered indignantly at her side, joining in wrathful +denunciations of the tyrant man; and fair, persecuted Dr. Simcoe's +assenting voice was faintly heard amid the fiendish shrieks of those +pestiferous younglings, Simcoe's children. + +We knew by their ireful aspects some dreadful peril had menaced the +cause of Woman's Rights, and while we gazed, their clamor increased to +furious yells of rage and defiance, and a dark, descending cloud hung +threateningly over their wrathful heads as they passed along. + +On their vanishing shadows Mr. Pimble clappered his heelless slippers, +with the long skirts of his palm-figured wrapper streaming on the air +behind him; like the grim ghost of manhood pursuing its flying +aggressors. + +Then Florence, like a beam of light, danced past on the arm of Edgar, +and a merry, laughing group followed quickly in their rear, among which +we recognized the tall, portly form of Major Howard, smiling benignly on +the happy faces around him. + +But we looked in vain for the thin, bowed figure of his grief-stricken +sister. There were two willow-shaded graves in the grass-grown +church-yard, and o'er them bent the spectre-like form of the Hermit of +the Cedars, his gray locks moistened by the falling night-dews, and his +pale face turned upward to the midnight stars with an expression of +mournful resignation. + +As the clock in the ivy-hung steeple tower rang forth its echoing chimes +on the odorous air, we cast one glance toward the swiftly-vanishing +groups, and silently turned away. + +Cold and bitter on our long-wrapped senses strike the harsh, blunt-edged +realities of every-day existence. The multiplied images which but +yesterday peopled our brain and thronged on our notice, have "departed +thence, to return no more." + +The last sound of their multitudinous voices has died in the distance, +and Wimbledon is to us as if it had never been. + + + + + SCRAGGIEWOOD; + + A + + TALE OF AMERICAN LIFE. + + + + + CHAPTER I. + + "Sweetly wild + Were the scenes that charmed me when a child; + Rocks, gray rocks, with their caverns dark, + Leaping rills, like the diamond spark; + Torrent voices thundering by, + When the pride of the vernal floods swelled high, + And a quiet roof, like the hanging-nest, + 'Mid cliffs, by the feathery foliage drest." + + +October's harvest-moon hung in the blue ether. Brightly fell her golden +beams on the tall, old forest trees, that pointed spar-like toward the +starry heaven, and down, through their interlacing branches, upon gray, +mossy rocks and uprooted trunks, over which wild vines wreathed in +untrained exuberance; and dim, star-eyed flowers reared their slender +heads among the rank undergrowth of bush and shrub. + +And here, in this primeval wildness, her silver beams revealed a low, +thatched cottage standing in a narrow opening. Its walls were built of +rough stones, piled one upon another in a rude, unartistical manner; and +the heavy turf roof, which projected far over the sides, was sunken and +overgrown with moss and lichens. + +From this rough dwelling proceeded tones of mirth and hilarity. How +strangely they sounded in the lone solitude of nature! Through an open +window might be seen a group, seated round a small table, consisting of +two young men, and an old woman in a high starched cap, with a huge pair +of iron-bowed spectacles mounted on her Roman nose. A child was sleeping +on a pallet in a corner of the room, and one of the young men passed the +candle a moment over the low cot, and, gazing intently on the sleeper, +asked in a lively, careless tone, + +"Sacri, Aunt Patty! is that your baby, or the fair spirit that unrolls +the destinies of mortals to your inspired vision?" + +"She is neither one nor t'other," answered the old woman. "Now please to +hold that candle up here close to my eyes." + +"But I want to know who that is asleep there; for I've a notion she is +more concerned in my destiny than anything you'll find in that old +teacup." + +"Heaven forbid!" exclaimed the woman musingly, as she continued to peer, +with a mystic expression of countenance, into a small and apparently +empty teacup, which she turned slowly round and round in her skinny +hand, muttering at intervals in an ominous undertone. + +"Well, Aunt Patty, out with it!" said the youth at length, tired of her +long silence. "Isn't it clear yet? Here's another bit of silver; toss +that in, and stir up again;" and he threw a shining half-eagle down on +the table. The woman's face brightened as she clutched it eagerly. + +"Come, now let's hear," continued the young man, "what's to be Mr. +Lawrence Hardin's destiny." + +"May be, if you saw all I see in this cup, you would not be so eager to +know its contents," said the crone in a boding voice. + +"What! Whew, old woman! croaking of evil when I've twice crossed your +palm with silver! This is too bad." + +"But don't you know the decrees of fate are unalterable?" said the +woman, solemnly. + +"O, law, yes! but I didn't know an old cracked saucer was so +formidable." + +"It is no saucer, sir; it is a cup, and your destiny is in it." + +"Ha, ha, ha!" laughed the other young man; "pretty well wound up, +Hardin, if your destiny is contained in a teacup." + +"Hush!" exclaimed the crone in an angry tone. "More than his or yours, +you noisy chatterer! The whole world's, I may say, is in the cup." + +"In the _pot_, you mean," said the youth, knocking with his bamboo +stick on the side of a small, black teapot, that stood at the old +woman's right hand. + +"Well, yes; in the pot, I should say, perhaps," added she in a softened +tone. + +"The world's destiny is in a teapot, and Aunt Patty Belcher pours it +forth at her pleasure; that's it;" and here they all joined in a hearty +laugh. + +"That will do," said Hardin at length; "now read off, good Dame Belcher. +Sumpter is digesting his fortune. Give me a more palatable one than +his." + +The old woman rubbed her long, peaked nose violently, and then raising +her eyes slowly to the young man's face, said, "Thou art ambitious, +Lawrence Hardin!" + +"Wrong there, most reverend sorceress!" exclaimed the one called +Sumpter. + +"Now, hark ye!" exclaimed the old crone; "I won't be interrupted. I +guess I know my own cups." + +"Be quiet, be quiet, Jack!" said Hardin. "Why will you be so +presumptuous as to gainsay a prophet's assertions! Go on, Aunt Patty; he +will not disturb you again." + +"Well, I tell you again," said the woman, casting a disdainful glance on +Sumpter, who had withdrawn to a chair at the foot of the cot-bed, and +was regarding attentively the tiny form lying there wrapped in tranquil +sleep, "I tell you _again_, you are ambitious. You want to be thought +great. You want to be first. You thirst for power for the sake of bowing +others to your will. You have rich parents _now_, and are surrounded by +all that heart could wish; but, mind ye, there's a dark cloud in the +rear. It threatens tempest and desolation. Soon your parents will be +dead, and you hurrying from your rich, splendid home to seek your +fortune in a distant country. You will seem to prosper for a while, and +then it blackens again. You can see yourself," she added, holding the +cup before the young man's face, "that black clump in the bottom." + +"I see only a few tea-grounds your turnings and shakings have settled +together," remarked he, carelessly. + +"Destiny placed them as they are, young men," said the hag, solemnly. + +"May be so," he added; "but tell me, how long shall I live? Shall I be +successful in love, and will my lady be handsome?" + +"Thou wilt live longer than thou wilt wish; ay, drag on many years when +thou wouldst fain be sleeping in the earth's cold bed! Thou wilt +love,--thou wilt marry, and thy lady will be beautiful as the day-star." + +"Enough, enough!" exclaimed the youth, starting to his feet. "Do you +hear, Jack? Is not mine a brave fortune? I shall love, marry, and my +wife will be a goddess of beauty." + +"Yes," said the crone; "but mark, she will not love you." + +"Whew! How is that? Not love me? And wherefore not, old woman?" + +"Because she will love another," repeated the hag in a low, but firm, +decided tone. + +"But you are spoiling your fair pictures, Aunt Patty," said Hardin. + +"Destiny is destiny," said she with a solemn look. + +"Ay, yes; I forgot!" he exclaimed, laughing gayly. "Come, Sumpter, let's +be off. I am afraid our good seeress will discover you and I fighting a +duel in that ominous cup, or brewing a tempest in her teapot." + +"Ha, ha, ha! it is not impossible," ejaculated Sumpter. "Now I believe +she did say I would go out of the world in a terrible uproar, shooting +somebody or getting shot myself. Which was it, dame?" + +"Time will tell you soon enough, young man," returned the woman, in an +angry, scornful tone. + +"O, don't be cross, good Aunt Patty!" he said, noticing her dark looks; +"don't mind my balderdash. Here's another piece of silver for you. Now, +good-night, and long live Scraggiewood and the seeress, Madam Belcher!" + +"Good-night, young men, and God bless ye, I say!" exclaimed the crone, +her eye brightening at sight of the silver. + +"Just tell me the name of the little sleeper," said Sumpter, lingering a +moment, while Hardin turned the carriage which had brought them to the +forest-cottage. + +"What do you want to know her name for?" asked Aunt Patty. + +"O, because she resembles a sister I lost," returned Sumpter after a +brief hesitation. + +"Well, it is my niece, Annie Evalyn." + +"Ah! she lives with you?" + +"Yes; ever since she was born a'most. Her father and mother died when +she was a baby." + +"Hillo, Sumpter!" said Hardin, from without, "trying to coax a prettier +sequel to your fortune? Come on!" + +Sumpter hurried forth, and the carriage rattled away over the rough road +of Scraggiewood. + + + + + CHAPTER II. + + "A holy smile was on her lip, + Whenever sleep was there; + She slept as sleep the blossoms hushed + Amid the silent air." + + +The sun was peeping through the crevices of the rock-built cottage when +old Dame Belcher, the fortune-teller, awoke on the following morning. + +"Well, about time for me to be stirring these old bones," she murmured. +"Good fees last night;" and here she drew a leather bag from beneath her +pillow, and chuckled over its contents; "these little siller pieces will +buy plenty of ribbons and gewgaws for hinny, so she can flaunt with the +best of them at Parson Grey's school. She was asleep here last night +when the young city chaps came, and don't know a word about their visit; +I carried her off in my arms to her own little cot, after they were +gone, and I'll creep into her room a moment now to see if she still +sleeps." + +Thus saying, the old woman slipped on her clothes, and, crossing a rude +entry, lightly lifted a latch and entered a small, poor, though very +tidy apartment. A broken table, propped against the rough, unplastered +wall, contained a bouquet of wild flowers tastefully arranged, and +placed in a bowl of clear water, some writing materials, and a few books +piled neatly together. A fragrant woodbine formed a beautiful +lattice-work over the rough-cut hole in the wall which answered for a +window. Two chairs covered with faded chintz, and a small cot-bed +dressed in white, completed the furnishing. On this latter, breathing +softly in her quiet sleep, lay a lovely child, on whose fair, open brow +eleven summers might have shed their roses. The old woman approached, +and with her wrinkled palms smoothed away the heavy masses of chestnut +hair that curled around her childish face. + +"Bless it, how it sleeps this morning!" she said, in a low whisper; "but +it must not have its little hands up here;" and she parted the tiny +fingers that were locked above the graceful head, and laid them softly +on the sleeper's breast. "I may as well go, while she sleeps so quietly, +and gather a dish of the crimson berries she loves so well, for her +breakfast; they will be nice with a dish of old Crummie's sweet milk;" +and, pinning a green blanket over her head, the old woman went forth on +her errand. + +Meantime the child awoke, and, seeing the sunbeams stealing through the +net-work of vines, and streaming so warm and bright over the rough, +stone floor, started quickly from her couch, and, robing herself in a +pink muslin frock, issued from her room, carolling a happy morning song. +She sat down on a bench before the door of the cottage, and in a few +moments her aunt appeared, bearing in one hand a white bowl filled with +purple berries, and in the other a bucket of milk, all warm and frothing +to the brim. + +"O, then you are up, hinny!" she said, on seeing the child; "just look +at what aunty has got for your breakfast. Now, you come in and pick over +the berries with your little, nice, quick fingers, and I'll spread the +table, strain the milk, and bake a bit of oaten cake, and we'll have a +meal fit for a king." + +The child obeyed readily, and soon the humble tenants of the rocky +cottage were seated at their simple repast. + +"I've some good news to tell you, Annie," said the woman, as she cut +open a light, oaten cake, and spread a slice of rich, yellow butter over +its smoking surface. + +"What is it, aunty?" asked the child. + +"There was two gentlemen here last night, after you fell asleep on my +bed here, and they gave me lots o' siller for reading their fortunes. +I've got it all here in the leather bag for you, hinny; 'twill buy +plenty of gay ribbons to tie your pretty hair." + +"O, I would not use it for that, aunty!" said Annie, quickly. + +"What then, child?" + +"For something useful." + +"And what so useful as to make my Annie look gayest of all the village +lasses?" + +"Why, that's no use at all, aunty; I shan't have one more pretty thought +in my head for having a gay ribbon on my hair. Use it, aunty, please, to +buy me some new books, so I can enter the highest class in school when +George Wild does. Mr. Grey says I can read and cipher as well as he, +though I am not so old by two years." + +"Well, well, hinny, it shall be as you wish; just like your father,--all +for books and learning,--though your mother leaned that way too. Yes, of +all our family she was always called the lady; and lady she was, indeed, +as fine as the richest of them; but poverty, Annie,--O, 'tis a sad thing +to be poor!" + +"We are not poor, aunty," said the child, pouring the sweet milk over +her berries; "only see what nice things we have! this rich milk old +Crummie gives us, and this golden butter, and these light, sweet cakes! +O, aunty! if you would only--only"--and she paused. + +"Only what, child?" asked the fond old woman. + +"But you won't be angry if I say it?" said the child, a conscious blush +suffusing her lovely features. + +"Angry with my darling! no." + +"Only not tell any more fortunes, aunty; then we should be so happy." + +"Not tell any more fortunes! What ails the child? Why, that's the way +half our living comes; and an easy way to earn it, too; much easier than +to sit and spin on the little linen wheel from morning till night." + +"Easier, but not so honorable, is it, aunty?" + +"Honorable! Yes, child; what put it into your pretty, curly head that it +was not honorable to read future events and take fees for it?" + +"Why, sometimes the girls and boys at school laugh and scorn at me, and +call me the old witch's brat, or the young Scraggiewood seeress, or some +such name," said the child, in a tone of sorrowful regret; "and I've +often wished you would not tell fortunes any more. Learn me how to use +the small wheel, aunty, and all the hours when I'm out of school, I'll +spin fast as I can. I know we could get a very good living without your +telling fortunes; don't you think so, aunty?" + +"Why, child, I never thought a word about it," said the old woman, +gazing on the beautiful face upturned to hers, and grown so earnest in +its pleading. + +"But you will think to-day, while I'm at school, won't you, aunty? I see +George coming for me, now;" and, moving her chair from the table, she +sprang for her satchel and sun-bonnet as her little play-fellow came +over the stile, calling her name. + +"You must have on your shoes this morning, hinny," said her aunt; "there +was a heavy dew last night, and the path is wet." + +"Yes," said George, "have them on, Annie, for I want you to go with me +by the brook to get some pretty eglantines I saw last night, nearly +bloomed; they are all out this morning, I know." + +Annie was soon equipped, and, with a hearty blessing from Aunt Patty, +they took their way hand in hand toward the village school. + + + + + CHAPTER III. + + "On sped the seasons, and the forest child + Was rounded to the symmetry of youth; + While o'er her features stole, serenely wild, + The trembling sanctity of woman's truth, + Her modesty and simpleness and grace; + Yet those who deeper scan the human face, + Amid the trial hour of fear or ruth, + Might clearly read upon its Heaven-writ scroll, + That high and firm resolve that nerved the Roman soul." + + +Through three bright summers had George Wild led Annie Evalyn over the +rough forest path to the village school. They were the only children +residing in Scraggiewood, and, therefore almost constantly together. How +they roamed through the dim old woods in search of moss and wild +flowers, and, in the autumn time, to gather the brown nuts of the +chestnut and beech trees; how many favorite nooks and dells they had, in +which to rest from their ramblings, and talk and tell each other of +their thoughts and dreamings of the life to come! But George would often +say he could not understand all Annie's wild words; he thought her +whimsical and visionary, and it pained him to find her ambitious and +aspiring as her years increased; he would fain have her always a child, +rapt in the enjoyment of the present hour, content and satisfied with +his companionship and aunt Patty's purple berries and oaten cakes, +believing the heaven that closed round Scraggiewood bounded the +universe; for something whispered to his heart, if she went forth into +the wide world, she would not return to him; and he loved her as well as +his indolent nature was capable of loving, and indeed would do a great +deal for her sake. She possessed more power to rouse him to action than +any other person, and she loved him, too, very well,--but very coolly, +very calmly, with a love that sought the good of its object at the +expense of self entirely, for she could bear to think of parting with +him forever, and putting the world's width between them, so he was +benefited and his usefulness increased by the proceeding. And he had +always been her companion and protector. Next to her aunty she ought to +love him; but his mind was not of a cast with hers; he could not +appreciate her dreamy thoughts and aspirations. He was content to fold +his arms, and be floated through life by the tide of circumstances, the +thing he was; but she could not be so; she must trim her sails and stem +the current; within her breast was a spirit that would not be lulled to +slumber, but impelled her incessantly to action; there was a quenchless +thirst for knowledge, unappeased, and it must be slaked. + +Mr. Grey, the kind village pastor, who had become deeply interested in +his young pupil during her attendance at the village school, offered to +take her under his charge, and afford her the privilege of pursuing a +course of study with his own daughter, Netta, with whom Annie had formed +a close friendship at school. Aunt Patty said she should be lost without +her "hinny," and George Wild remonstrated half angrily with her, for +going off to leave him alone; but all to no effect--Annie must go. + +"But why won't you go with me, George?" she asked, turning her liquid +blue eyes upon his sullen face. "Don't you want to gain knowledge, and +fame, and honor, in the great world, and perhaps some day behold +multitudes bowing in reverence at your feet?" + +"No, I want nothing of all this. I've knowledge enough now, and so have +you, if you would only think so. And, as for fame and honor, I believe +I'm happier without them, for I've often heard it remarked, 'increase of +knowledge is increase of misery.'" + +"Well, it is not the misery of ignorance," said Annie, proudly. "I am +astonished to hear such sentiments from you, George Wild. I had thought +you possessed a nobler, braver heart than to sit down here beneath the +oaks of Scraggiewood, and waste the best years of your life in sloth and +inaction." + +"Why, I've not been sitting alone, have I, Annie?" he asked with an +insinuating smile. + +"But you will sit here alone henceforth, if you choose to continue this +indolent life; childhood does not last forever; my child-life is over, +and I am going to work now, hard and earnest." + +"For what?" + +"_For something noble_; to gain some lofty end." + +"Well, I hope you'll succeed in your high-wrought schemes; but for my +part, I see no use in fretting and toiling through this life, to secure +some transitory fame and honor. Better pass its hours away as easily and +quietly as we can." + +"We should not live shrunk away in ourselves, but strive to do something +for the benefit and happiness of our species." + +"O, well, Annie! if to render others happy is your wish and aim, you +have but to remain here in your humble cottage home, and I'll promise +you you'll do that." + +"Why, George," said she, noticing his rueful countenance, "what makes +you look so woe-begone? As if I were about to fly to the ends of the +earth, when I'm only going two little miles to Parson Grey's Rectory, +and promise to walk to Scraggiewood every Saturday evening with you." + +"But I feel as if I was going to lose you, Annie, for all that; the +times that are past will never return." + +"No; but there may be brighter ones ahead," she answered, hopefully. + +George shook his head. None of her lofty aspirations found response in +his bosom; the present moment occupied his thoughts. So the common wants +of life were supplied, and he free from pain and anxiety, he was +content, nor wished or thought of aught beyond. The great world of the +future he never longed to scan, nor penetrate its misty-veiled depths, +and leave a name for lofty deeds and noble actions, that should vibrate +on the ear of time when he was no more. + +And thus drifted asunder on the great ocean of life the barks that had +floated on calmly side by side through a few years of quiet pleasure. +They might never spread their sails together again; wider and wider +would the distance grow between them; higher and higher would swell the +waves as they sped on their separate courses; the one light and buoyant +with her freight of noble hopes and dauntless steersman at the helm, the +other without sail or ballast, drifted about at the mercy of winds and +waves. + + + + + CHAPTER IV. + + "A gentle heritage is mine, + A life of quiet pleasure; + My heaviest cares are but to twine + Fresh votive garlands for the shrine + Where 'bides my bosom's treasure. + I am not merry, nor yet sad, + My thoughts are more serene than glad." + + +It was a lovely spot, that peaceful vicarage. Tall elms shaded the +sloping roof, and roses and jessamines poured their rich perfume on the +morning and evening air. Here two years of calm, tranquil enjoyment +glided over Annie Evalyn, as she, with unremitting assiduity, pursued +the path of science under the guidance of the good parson. Each day +fresh joys were opening before her, in the forms of newly-discovered +truths. Her faculties developed so rapidly as to astonish her tutor, +wise as he was in experience, and well-taught in ancient and modern +lore. + +"Annie," said he, one evening, as they sat together in the family +parlor, "what do you intend to do with all this store of knowledge you +are treasuring up with such eager application?" + +She looked up quickly in his face, and a flush for a moment passed over +her usually pale features. + +"I know what you would say," he added; "that you think no one can have +_too much_ knowledge--is it not?" + +"Do you think one can?" she asked. + +"Perhaps not too much well-regulated knowledge; knowledge adapted to an +efficient end and purpose." + +Again Annie turned her dark blue, expressive eye full upon his face. + +"I mean to put my little store of learning to good use," she said, +thoughtfully. + +"Well, so I supposed, Annie. What do you intend to do?" + +"Something great and good," she answered, her eye kindling with the +lofty thought within. + +"And could you accomplish but one, which should it be?" + +"Will not a great thing be a good one also?" she inquired. + +He shook his head. + +"That does not necessarily follow," he said; "that which is great may +not be good, but remember, Annie, what is _good_ will surely be +_great_." + +"I shall consider your words, dear sir," said Annie. "I am much indebted +to you for the privileges your kindness has afforded me, and hope some +day to be able to make a grateful recompense." + +"What I do is done freely, my child, and from a sense of duty. Do not +speak of recompense. Has not the companionship you have afforded my +little Netta, to say nothing of myself and sister Rachel, amply repaid +the small trouble your instruction has caused?" + +"But you forget in all this I am as much or more the recipient as the +giver. If Netta has found me a tolerable companion, I have found her a +charming one; and all yours and aunt Rachel's teachings--ah! I fear I'm +much the debtor after all," she said, shaking her head, doubtfully, and +smiling in her listener's face with artless simplicity and gratitude. + +"No, no, not a debtor, Annie," he said, stroking her bright curls; "I +cannot admit that. Let the benefits be mutual, if you will, nothing +more. I see Netta in the garden gathering flowers. She is a good little +girl, and loves you dearly, though she has none of the brilliancies that +characterize your mind. I do not intend to flatter; go now and join your +friend. I expect a party of western people to visit me to-morrow, and +have some preparations to make for their reception." + +Annie bowed, and glided down the gravelled path of the garden. In a +shady bower she found Netta, arranging a bouquet of laurel leaves and +snow-white jessamines. + +"O!" she exclaimed, looking up as Annie approached; "there you are, sis. +Now I'll twine you a wreath of these fragrant flowers." + +"And I'll twine one for you, Netta," said Annie. "Of what shall it be?" + +"Simple primroses or violets; these will best adorn my lowly brow; but +Annie, bright Annie Evalyn, shall wear naught but the proud laurel and +queenly jessamine;" and, giving a twirl to her pretty wreath, she tossed +it over her friend's high, marble-like brow, bestowing a playful kiss on +either cheek as she did so. + +"Does it sit lightly, Annie?" she asked. + +"Yes, Netta, and now bend in turn to receive my wreath of innocence, not +more pure and lovely than the brow on which it rests." + +Netta knelt, and the garland was thrown over her flaxen curls. Thus +adorned, the lovely maidens strolled up the avenue, arm in arm, and made +their way to the study-room, as it was called; a large, airy chamber +fronting the east, situated in a retired portion of the house, to be +removed from noise and intrusion. + +"Now you shan't study or write to-night, for who knows when we may have +another quiet evening together? These western friends of father's are +coming to-morrow, and our time and attention will be occupied with them. +I want to hear you talk to-night, Annie. Tell me some of your eloquent +thoughts, your glowing fancies. I'm your poor, little, foolish Netta, +you know." + +"You are my dear, dear friend," said Annie, throwing her arms +impulsively round the slender, graceful neck, and kissing the soft young +cheek. "I'm feeling sad and gloomy this evening, and fear I cannot +entertain you with conversation or lively chit-chat." + +"Tell me what makes you sad." + +"I don't know. Are you never sad without knowing the cause of your +gloomy feelings?" + +"No, I think not." + +"Well, I am. Often a shadow seems thrown across my spirit's heaven, but +I cannot tell whence it comes; the substance which casts the shade is +invisible. Who are these friends of your father's that are to visit us?" + +"O, they are a wealthy family with whom father became acquainted in the +circuit of his travels last season." + +"Their name?" + +"Prague, Dr. Prague, wife and daughter; also two young children, for +whom they are seeking a governess here in the east, as good teachers are +obtained with difficulty in their section of the country." + +"Ah!" said Annie, in a tone of voice so peculiar that Netta turned +involuntarily toward her. + +"O, Annie, Annie!" she exclaimed, and threw her arms round her friend's +neck. + +"What has so suddenly alarmed you?" asked Annie, endeavoring to soothe +her. + +"You won't go off with these strangers and leave us, will you, dear +Annie?" + +"Why, who is a visionary now, Netta?" she asked, laughing merrily; "what +put the thought of my going away into this pretty head, lying here all +feverish with excited visions? Pshaw, Netta, you are a whimsie!" + +"Then you won't go?" she said, her face brightening. "No thought of +becoming the governess this western family are seeking, and going away +with them, has entered your brain?" + +"Why should there, Netta?" + +"But would you say nay should you receive the offer?" + +"I can tell better when the moment arrives. But there, Netta, don't +cloud that fair brow again. I feel well assured no such moment will +come." + +"I'm not so sure, Annie." + +"Well, well, let us kiss, and retire to be ready to receive the visitors +on the morrow." + +And with a sisterly embrace they sought their private apartments. + + + + + CHAPTER V. + + "O, show me a place like the wild-wood home, + Where the air is fragrant and free, + And the first pure breathings of morning come + In a gush of melody. + When day steals away, with a young bride's blush, + To the soft green couch of night, + And the moon throws o'er, with a holy hush, + Her curtain of gossamer light." + + +Alone Annie Evalyn was walking in the summer twilight over the rough +road toward Scraggiewood. + +Near two months had elapsed since she last visited her Aunt Patty at the +rock-built cottage, and she pictured in her mind, as she walked on, the +surprise and good-natured chiding which would mark her old aunt's +reception. She gazed upward at the tall forest trees swaying to and fro +in the light evening breeze, and far into its dim, mazy depths, where +gray rocks lay clad in soft, green moss, and gnarled, uprooted trunks +overgrown with clinging vines, and pale, delicate flowers springing +beautiful from their decay. She listened to the murmuring of the brook +in its rocky bed, and a thousand memories of other years rushed on her +soul. The strange, fast-coming fancies that thronged her brain when she +in early childhood roamed those dark, solemn woods, or sat at night on +the lowly cottage stile, gazing on the wild, grotesque shadows cast by +the moonbeams from the huge, forest trees; or how she listened to the +solemn hootings of the lonesome owl, the monotonous cuckoo, and sudden +whippoorwill; or laughed at the glowworm's light in the dark swamps, and +asked her aunty if they were not a group of stars come down to play +bo-peep in the meadows. + +And then she thought of George Wild, her early playfellow. He was away +now, in a distant part of the country, whither he had been sent by his +father to learn the carpenter's trade. He had come to bid her good-by +with tears in his eyes, not so much at parting from _her_, she fancied, +as from dread of the active life before him. It would be hard to tell +whether Annie felt most pity or contempt for his weakness. He was the +only friend of her early childhood, and, _as_ such, she had still a +warm, tender feeling at her heart for him; and, had he possessed a +becoming energy and manliness of character, this childish feeling might +have deepened into strong, enduring affection as years advanced. But +Annie Evalyn could never love George Wild as he _was_; and thus she +thought as she brushed away a tear that had unconsciously started during +her meditations, and found herself at the door of her aunt's cottage. +She bounded over the threshold and into the old lady's arms, bestowing a +shower of kisses ere poor Aunt Patty could sufficiently collect herself +and recover from the surprise to return her darling's lavish caresses. + +"Ah, yes, you naughty little witch! here you are at last, pretending to +be mighty glad to see your old aunty, though for two long months you've +never come near her. But, bless it, how pretty it grows! and how red its +cheeks are, and how bright its eyes!" she exclaimed, brushing away the +curling locks and gazing into her darling's face. + +"But you'll forgive me, aunty, won't you?" said Annie, coaxingly. +"Indeed, I meant to have come long before; but if you only knew how much +I have had to occupy my time,--so many things to learn, and such hard, +hard lessons." + +"O, yes! always at your books, studying life away." + +"Why, aunty! you just exclaimed how fresh and blooming I was grown, and +I've something so nice to tell you. There are some wealthy people from +the west visiting at Parson Grey's, and they were in search of a +governess for their little children. Would you think it, aunty, their +choice has fallen upon me? and I am to accompany them on their return +home. They have a daughter about my own age, sweet Kate Prague. She will +be a fine companion--I love her so dearly now." + +Aunt Patty dropped her arms by her side, and remained silent after Annie +had ceased speaking. + +"What is the matter, aunty?" asked she, eagerly. + +"And so you, young, silly thing, are going to leave your friends and go +off with these strangers, that will treat you nobody knows how. Annie! +Annie! does Parson Grey approve of this?" + +"Yes, aunty; he thinks it will be a fine opportunity for me to see +something of the world, and learn the arts and graces of polite +society." + +"Ah! but these great, rich folks are often unkind and overbearing, and +oppress and treat with slight and scorn their dependents." + +"O, Mr. Grey knows this family well, and recommends them in the highest +terms." + +"Well, for all that, I can't bear the thought of losing you. So young +and ignorant." + +"Ignorant, aunty? Why, Dr. Prague himself says I know twice as much as +his daughter Kate." + +"Ah! book-learnin' enough; but I will tell you, Annie, a little +experience is better than all your books." + +"Well, how am I to obtain experience but by mingling in the world, and +learning its manners and customs?" + +"Ah, dear! I fear you will find this world, you are so anxious to see +and know, is a hard, rough place." + +"Well, aunty, don't dishearten me at the outset. See what a nice box of +honey I've brought you from Aunt Rachel Grey. Some of it will be +delightful on your light batter cakes, with a slice of old Crummie's +yellow butter. I must go out and bid the dear old creature good-by. How +I used to love to drive her to the brook for water!" + +"Ah, those were happy days for me, Annie!" said the old woman, +sorrowfully. "I shall never see the like again." + +"Don't say so, aunty," said Annie, her own heart experiencing a thrill +of anguish at the prospect of leaving her old forest-home, and kind, +loving protector. "I shall return some day, may be rich and famous, and +_good_, too, I hope; for Parson Grey says 'tis better to be good than +great." + +"God grant all your bright visions may be realized, Annie!" said the +aunt fervently. + +"Now, while you prepare our evening meal, I'll run out and look at some +of my old haunts," said Annie, forcing back a tear, and trying to assume +a cheerful countenance. + +So she wandered forth, while the grief-stricken woman spread the simple +board; but she could not relish the clear, dripping honey-comb sent by +the kind Aunt Rachel, and long after Annie slept in her little cot-bed, +did the old lady kneel over her sleeping form, weeping and praying for +her darling child. Annie spent the ensuing day with her aunt at the +cottage, and toward evening took a tearful leave, and bade adieu to +Scraggiewood. + + + + + CHAPTER VI. + + "And there was envy in her look, + And envy in her tone, + As if her spirit might not brook, + A rival near the throne." + + +"But don't you see, Dr. Prague, it won't do at all to admit her into +society on the same footing with our Catherine? For my part I don't see +how you could, for a moment, harbor so low an idea." + +In a far away period of time, the present honorable Mrs. Dr. Prague +had--shall we write it?--cut shoe-strings in her father's shop, and why +should not she be a competent judge of the low and common, since +experience is regarded as the "best teacher" in _almost_ all matters +beneath the sun? + +"I say," she reiterated, finding her remark elicited no response from +her worthy husband, "Annie Evalyn is not to be compared to our +Catherine." + +"I'm aware of that," was the answer in a dry tone. + +"And don't you notice how the minx tries to put on the lady?" + +"Not at all, madam; why should she strive to assume what is her natural +garb?" + +"Now really, Hippe, you are getting incorrigible." + +"Hippe" was a term of endearment, Mrs. Dr. Prague was accustomed to +apply to her husband when she wished to be very killing and +condescending, his Christian name being Hippocrates. + +To this winning speech, however, the insensate Dr. vouchsafed no reply; +so his lovely wife tacked about and said, "Well, Dr., to come to the +point, this governess is a dangerous rival for your daughter." + +"I know it," responded the good man, cutting up an orange, and passing a +silver plate containing several slices to his fair lady; "here, Mrs. +Prague, do regale yourself on this luscious fruit. It is the finest I +have tasted this season." + +"Dr. Prague, when I am discussing matters of importance, I do not wish +to be insulted by such frivolities." + +"Indeed, madam," said the doctor, withdrawing the plate, and proceeding +leisurely to the gratification of his own palate. + +There was a silence of some minutes, and then the lady, after fidgeting +and arranging the folds of her brocade silk, resumed the conversation by +saying, in a huffy tone, "May I inquire what you intend to do about it, +sir?" + +"Begging your pardon, madam," said the doctor, looking up from his +orange, "of what were you speaking?" + +The lady frowned frightfully at this fresh instance of his inattention +to her discourse. + +"I only wished to know if you thought of marrying Frank Sheldon to Annie +Evalyn, in preference to your own daughter," she exclaimed, in a biting, +sarcastic tone. The _matter_ but not the _manner_ of this speech seemed +to rouse the doctor's attention. + +"Frank Sheldon! Frank Sheldon!" he said quickly; "has he arrived from +his travels then?" + +"No, but he _will_ arrive some time." + +"O, yes, I trust so! But speaking of Annie,--_our_ Annie you know, for +I'm proud that we have such a treasure beneath our roof----" + +"Dr. Prague! are you mad? A paltry governess a treasure! I consider it a +shame and disgrace to our house, that a poor, low, dependent, is allowed +an equality in the family, and admitted through our influence to the +first classes in society. And I'm not the only one that marks the +shocking impropriety. My son-in-law, Lawrence Hardin, is possessed of a +discerning eye. He sees Kate loses wherever that girl is admitted." + +This speech was accompanied by immoderate vehemence, and energetic +gestures, but it failed to produce the slightest effect upon the +phlegmatic doctor, who, having finished his orange, settled himself +comfortably in his easy-chair, and took a cigar and the morning paper to +assist his digestion. + +"Thirteen increase from last week. I declare, our city is growing +sickly," he said, as his wife closed her oratorical harangue; "but, +speaking of Annie again, she has a poetical gem in one of our popular +magazines this week, which I find accompanied by a complimentary note +from the editor. She writes under a _nom de plume_, but I discovered +her. Have you read any of her writings, Mrs. Prague?" + +"_Her_ writings! the bold, impertinent hussy! No, nor do I wish to. But +if I'm to be entertained with this sort of conversation, I'll go down to +my son-in-law, Esq. Hardin's; and there I'm sure to pass an agreeable +day. Nothing low ever tarnishes his discourse." + +"Do so, madam," said the imperturbable husband; "undoubtedly they will +appreciate the honor of your presence." + +And with a disdainful toss the lady flouted out of the room, leaving the +good doctor to the undisturbed enjoyment of his cigar and papers. + +Annie Evalyn had been nine months an inmate of Dr. Prague's mansion, +when the preceding scene was enacted. Some of that experience which Aunt +Patty had pronounced "better than book learnin'," had fallen to her +share. So far from her beauty and accomplishments winning friends and +good-will, they had only seemed to provoke the sneers and invidious +remarks of those who envied her superior attractions. She had seen the +contemptuous curl of the lip, and heard the epithet, "low-born +creature." She had bitterly learned that genius and beauty are not the +current coins of society; and she sometimes thought the old adage, +"Knowledge is power," would read truer, "Money is power." But though she +had dark hours, her young heart's courage had not failed. Still the +unalterable purpose was firm, to be active, to be striving for fame, +honor and good repute. Latterly she had turned her attention to literary +subjects, and produced several pieces that received warm commendation +from the press. + +Annie had been but a few weeks in her new residence, ere her quick eye +discerned that Mrs. Prague looked upon her with envy and jealousy, and +she endeavored to conciliate the lady's esteem by gentleness and +condescension; but all efforts were vain. She persisted in her coldness +and perversity. This was so unpleasant to Annie that she several times +signified her readiness to leave when her presence was no longer +desired; but the old doctor, who was her most zealous advocate, declared +he should go distracted if she left them. Kate cried and the children +howled in terror at the prospect of such a calamity. Mrs. Prague looked +lofty and said, "Miss Evalyn was a trusty governess, and they might +increase her salary if she thought it insufficient." + +"Double it, if she says so," said the doctor; "but money can't reward +services like hers. How could you pay the sun for illuminating your +drawing-rooms, Mrs. Prague?" + +And Mrs. Prague darted an angry glance, and said she would go down to +her son-in-law's. + + + + + CHAPTER VII. + + "To love's sweet tones my heart shall never thrill; + Nor, as the tardy years their circles roll, + Shall they the ardor of its pulses chill." + + +Reclining on a silken sofa, in a luxurious apartment, was a lady in the +prime of youth and beauty. She was robed in a white, wrought-muslin +gown, and her glossy ringlets lay in dark relief on its snowy folds. She +was reading at intervals from a small gilt volume, but with a wandering +listlessness of manner, as though it were a weary effort to fix her +attention upon its contents. + +This was the wife of Lawrence Hardin, Esq., one of the most wealthy, +influential men in that part of the country. He arrived there from the +east a few years before, bringing a large fortune, which he came in +possession of by the sudden death of his parents. He embarked largely in +speculations, and was very successful; in consequence of which, the +mercantile class in their most critical junctures looked up to him as a +superior and safeguard. He soon grew to be a man of great power and +influence, and in the full tide of prosperity bore away the beautiful +Marion Prague, the reigning belle of the city, as his bride. There was a +rumor afloat that the match afforded the fair lady but meagre +satisfaction, and that her taste and wishes were not much consulted in +the matter; but the angry importunities of her proud, self-willed mother +at length induced her to marry a man she did not love. But this idle +report was hushed after their marriage, and the devotion of the young +couple loudly descanted on in fashionable circles throughout the city; +for was not Hardin all attention, and how could she avoid loving so fine +a fellow? So the world called it a nice match, and passed on. Let us +pause for a glance behind the scenes. + +A slight tap at the door of that elegant boudoir, and then it swung +softly on its gilded hinges, and a gentleman, richly dressed, with +shining hat, dark broadcloth over-coat, and a light bamboo stick in his +neatly-gloved hand, entered and approached the couch on which the lady +reclined. He was rather above the medium height, of commanding figure, +with jetty hair and mustaches and deep-set, piercing black eyes. Laying +aside hat and gloves, he sat down by the sofa, and commenced playfully +poking the long, wavy ringlets that lay on the crimson damask pillow +with the gold tip of his tiny walking-cane. She had resumed her book on +his first appearance, and continued to peruse its pages. She did not +look toward him, or speak, and it was evident, from a slightly-clouded +brow, that his presence rather annoyed than pleased her. + +This was Lawrence Hardin and lady in the privacy of their own apartment. + +"Why don't you speak to me, Marion?" he asked, at length. + +No answer, and the brow grew darker. He bent over her, and endeavored to +take the book from her hand. She tightened her grasp for a moment to +resist his efforts, and then, suddenly relaxing her hold, turned toward +the wall. + +He gazed on her several moments with a mingled expression of anger and +wounded tenderness, and then turned away. + +Half an hour later the young wife met her husband in the breakfast-room, +and presided with benign and gracious dignity over his well-laid table; +inquired "if Esq. Hardin found the chocolate and sardines to his +relish;" and he extolled Mrs. Hardin's excellent superintendence of +domestic affairs; said business in his office would detain him from her +till the dinner hour, and, expressing a hope that she might pass the +morning agreeably, bowed himself out of the presence of his lovely wife, +who replied to his civilities courteously, and even smiled brightly at +his parting nod at the hall door. And the servants in attendance saw and +listened; and reported, and enlarged on the "wonderful love" and +happiness of their young master and mistress. So this _nice match_ was +noised abroad over the whole city, and a hundred families envied the +domestic felicity of Esq. Hardin and wife. O, the endless masquerade of +life! + +Several weeks later the unloved husband entered his young lady's +apartment. She stood before the dressing-table, arranging her hair for +the evening. She cast a brief glance toward him, and then proceeded +quietly with her toilet. The chilling indifference wounded him acutely, +and he addressed her rather hastily: "Marion, do you think I shall +always have patience?" + +"I don't know, I'm sure," she answered, carelessly; "but of what do you +complain? Do I not perform the duties of your mansion in a manner to +satisfy your fastidious tastes?" + +"Don't mock or trifle," he said, bitterly. "I'm not a machine, or an +automaton, and I want something more than my servants, my drawing-room +and table well attended, to satisfy my heart." + +"You knew I did not love you when you married me." + +"Yes, but I did _not_ know that you hated me." + +"Nor did I." + +"And what have I done since to incur your detestation?" + +"Nothing." + +"Well, then, will you treat me with a little less of this freezing +coldness and scorn when we are alone together?" + +Tears started in those beautiful eyes, and he advanced to embrace her, +but she motioned him away. No, they were not there for him. She +struggled a few moments, and then, uncovering her face, said calmly: + +"Sit down, Lawrence; I will endeavor to comply with your wishes." + +He drew a damask fauteuil opposite the one on which she was reclining, +and sank among its downy cushions. The rays of the setting sun streamed +into the richly-furnished apartment and fell upon the two occupants. + +"What news in the city, to-day?" inquired Marion, at length. + +"Nothing particularly interesting, I believe," he answered. "I was at +your father's to-night; they are making preparations for a large party +next week, given in honor of Frank Sheldon's arrival." + +Some noise in the street at this moment attracted his attention, and he +rose to look forth. When he turned again, he beheld his wife lying on +the carpet pale and cold as marble. + + + + + CHAPTER VIII. + + "Strange scenes will often follow on abrupt surprise." + + +Annie Evalyn was alone in her apartment. A servant had just left a small +package, and she was now occupied with its contents. First was a letter +from the good parson, full of fatherly advice and admonition; then one +from Netta, a sheet written full, in a neat, delicate hand, describing a +visit to Aunt Patty's cottage, and a score of messages enumerated which +the old lady had desired transmitted to her "dear hinny," as she still +called Annie. "Tell her I don't tell fortunes now, for I know she will +like to hear that; because once I remember she said, 'I wouldn't tell +fortunes, aunty, for I don't think it is respectable.' So tell her I +earn a good living by spinning on my little wheel, and try to be happy +thinking she is so. But, sometimes, when the wind howls through the deep +woods, I can't help feeling lonesome, and think, if Annie were only here +to sing some of her pretty songs, how cheery the old walls would look! +And tell her, if she should ever grow tired and heart-sick in the midst +of the world's fashions and splendors, the old thatched roof in +Scraggiewood will joy to shelter her; and the old heart here will warm +and love her into life and happiness again." + +Annie felt the tears come as she read, for she had often of late +experienced a longing wish for a gentle friend in whom to confide and +trust. + +Now Netta spoke of their home at the vicarage. "It was lonesome yet," +she said, "and the old study had never worn a cheerful aspect since its +good genius departed. Father and Aunt Rachel spoke of bright-faced Annie +every day; but most of all _she_ missed the dear, loving companion when +she retired to her chamber at night." And then she wrote, "Your old +friend George Wild, has returned quite a changed being, I assure you. I +think you must have infused some of your energy and action into his +nature, for he has become an active business man. He works at his trade +in the village, and I see him frequently. We have long, cosey chats +about you, Annie." Annie laughed as she read. + +"Dear little Netta!" she exclaimed, "I see through it all; it is clear +as day. But I'm willing you should use my name, darling, to subserve +your timidity. I'll answer this sweet letter this morning. I'm alone, +and now is a good time." + +She looked about for her writing-materials, and suddenly remembered she +had left them in the school-room the evening previous. As she lightly +descended the stairs, the bell rang, and the hall door being open, she +came in full view of a gentleman standing on the marble steps e'er she +was aware, and in another moment he was at her side, exclaiming, + +"Astonishing! Is it possible? Can this be Kate Prague?" + +Annie blushed as she perceived his mistake, and hastened to rectify it. + +"I am not Miss Prague," she said, "but a member of the family at +present. I think I have the honor of addressing Mr. Sheldon." He bowed +gracefully. + +"The ladies are gone out for a short drive this morning. Will you be +pleased to wait their return in the drawing-room?" + +He accepted the invitation and entered the apartment, offering, as he +did so, an apology for his mistake, which she acknowledged with another +rising blush. + +"I think Dr. Prague received intelligence last evening that you would +not arrive till next week," she remarked, as they were seated in the +parlor. "Had they expected you sooner, I'm sure they would have been at +home to receive you." + +"I did send a letter to that effect," he said; "but the improved +facilities of travelling have enabled me to reach the city sooner than I +anticipated." + +A silence ensued. Annie felt ill at ease. She had received many hints of +the lofty, aristocratic notions of Frank Sheldon. She knew him to be +wealthy, and the prospective lover of Kate Prague; that is, Kate had +informed her that "Marion had been first designed for him; but by some +means that plan failed, and then mother married her to Hardin, and +Sheldon was left for her. She supposed she should marry him some time, +though she did not care a fig for him, he was so grave, and always +talking on literary subjects which she could not understand and +therefore mortally abhorred." + +All this passed quickly through Annie's mind, and, rising, she said she +"thought the ladies would soon return; perhaps he could amuse himself +with the contents of the centre-table a brief while." + +"O, yes!" he said politely. "I can ever pass time agreeably with books +and paintings." She courtesied and retired to her own apartment. "What a +vision of loveliness!" he mentally exclaimed when left alone. "I wonder +if Kate Prague is half so beautiful. Who can this lady be?" + +A carriage now rattled up to the door, and the ladies came bundling into +the apartment. He suddenly recollected he was there unannounced, but +what could he do? + +"Bless me! Mercy! Why, Mr. Sheldon here, and nobody to receive him! What +must he think?" exclaimed Mrs. Prague, in a tone of astonishment. + +"I'm most concerned, my good madam," said he, advancing, for what you +must think to find me so unceremoniously ensconced in your +drawing-room." + +"Don't say a word about that," was the answer. "Was not this once your +home? I hope you will still regard it in that light. Kate, come forward; +here is Mr. Sheldon. I declare, what a delightful surprise!" The old +doctor now entered, and burst into a torrent of welcome on beholding +Sheldon. + +"How did you get here, my boy," he asked, "to steal upon us so slyly, +when I received a letter only yesterday saying you would not reach us +before next week?" + +Sheldon explained briefly. When he mentioned that a young lady had +escorted him to the parlor, and invited him to await the family's +return, a visible frown lowered over Mrs. Prague's before smiling +countenance, and she and Catherine soon excused themselves to prepare +for dinner. + + + + + CHAPTER IX. + + "But, ah! if thou hadst loved me--had I been + All to thy dreams that to mine own thou art." + + +On a dim, gray morning in early winter, Lawrence Hardin sat by the couch +of his wife, her thin, wasted hand lying unconsciously in his, and her +quick, heavy breathings moving the dark locks of his hair, as he bent +low over her sleeping form. Three months had passed since that fainting +scene, and the young wife had encountered a long, severe stroke of +illness. The husband watched incessantly by her bed-side, for he would +not suffer her wild, fevered ravings to be heard by other ears than his +own. + +It was all revealed to him. He knew he had married a woman whose heart +was another's, and that she had been compelled to the step by the +threats and vehemence of her mother. + +O, how the strong man writhed in his agony! To know Marion did not love +him, was enough to endure; but to know she loved another, ah! that was +madness. His passions were roused to fury, yet not on _her_ should they +wreak their vengeance. No; on the man that had stolen her love from him, +or rather the man on whom she had bestowed her love, Frank Sheldon. On +his devoted head should the vengeance fall. + +Thus he resolved, but kept his fell design buried in his own breast, +and, by an engaging exterior, sought to lure his victim into his toils. + +Sheldon was a brave, generous fellow. Left early an orphan, he had been +reared in the family of Dr. Prague, who was instituted guardian of the +large fortune left by his parents. He was endowed by nature with fine +intellectual abilities, and an exquisite taste for the grand and +beautiful in nature and art, and, during three years' travel in foreign +parts, had so improved upon these natural advantages, as to stand +acknowledged one of the most elegant and accomplished young men of his +country. But it often happens that such high-wrought natures are but +poorly versed in the plodding concerns of this nether world. And thus it +was with him. Alive to every lofty feeling and generous impulse, he +fancied others like himself. Low cunning and artifice were unknown to +his bosom, and consequently he would fall the easier victim to Hardin's +scheme of revenge. + +And now there came another fact to this base man's knowledge. Sheldon +had not only robbed him of Marion's affections, but had won and slighted +Kate Prague, to fall in love with Annie Evalyn. Worse still, the passion +was mutual. That _he_ saw and knew long before the parties themselves +had acknowledged the growing love in the still depths of their own +beating hearts, much more given voice to the feeling in words. + +Love is so blind, and shy, and unbelieving, the poets tell us. Had +Sheldon's love met no response, then Hardin's revenge had been in part +gratified; but now it was only whetted to a keener edge, for he saw, or +fancied he saw, not only his rival's happiness, but the sister of the +woman he loved pining from an unrequited affection. + +As he revolved these dark thoughts in his vile breast, the hand he held +moved suddenly, and the sleeper murmured in her dreams. He bent his ear +eagerly to catch the sound, but it was gone. He smoothed the damp, dark +locks away from the pale brow, and gazed on her thin, attenuated +features--yet more beautiful, they seemed to him, than in the ruddy glow +of health. O that she would open her eyes and gaze up tenderly into his! +And when she was able to sit in a soft-cushioned chair, robed in a snowy +dressing-gown, and propped with pillows, receiving his attentions with +such a pretty shyness and distrust; or a few weeks later, when, still +more recovered, leaning so coyly on his arm to wander over her splendid +mansion again, and looking so timidly in his face, as if, now her secret +was known, she had no right to claim or expect tenderness from him;--all +this reserve made her so much dearer, and he thought, if she would but +give him one little look of love, he would even forget his meditated +revenge on Sheldon. + +But, ah! he looked in vain for lurking love in those cold, beautiful +eyes. There was submission,--there was gratitude; but what were those? + +Again the fashionable world said, "Esq. Hardin and lady are more devoted +than ever;" and they congratulated Mrs. Dr. Prague on the _nice match_ +she had secured for her daughter Marion. And the haughty, vain mother +exulted, for she was a superficial observer of human nature, and could +not, or _would_ not, see the wasting woe that was preying on her +daughter's health and beauty. + +It was a gay season at the doctor's mansion. Sheldon's arrival was the +signal for a round of entertainments among the elite of the city; for, +be it known, there were others than good Mrs. Prague anxious to secure +so eligible a match for their daughters, as the handsome, rich and +gifted Frank Sheldon. A manoeuvring mother! reader, hast ever seen +one? And if so, dost know of another so contemptible thing in the whole +broad realm of the low, sordid and despicable? + +The good old doctor, with his usual obstinacy, insisted that Annie +Evalyn should make one of all the parties of amusement; and, in truth, +Sheldon was quite as anxious to secure her society as was the doctor to +"set her forward," as Mrs. Prague expressed it. That lady was +exceedingly vexed and mortified at the turn matters were taking; but +Kate, partaking largely of her father's easy nature, seemed as merry and +well-pleased as though Sheldon had fallen in love with her, instead of +Annie Evalyn; for it began to be whispered in the upper circles that +"Dr. Prague's pretty governess had captivated the fascinating Sheldon." +Many ugly grimaces distorted the proper faces of marriageable daughters; +and captious, ill-natured remarks were indulged in by disappointed +maidens, who had beggared their fathers' pockets to purchase silks and +satins, jewels and diamonds, to carry by storm the heart of the elegant, +accomplished Frank Sheldon. + +Alas for human hopes and expectations! And what a perverse, capricious, +wilful little fellow is this god of love, whom we all worship and make +offerings to in one form or another! Why, he never goes where he should; +that is, you may hang him a dome, with golden draperies, stud the walls +with pearls and rubies, put a divinity there, beautiful as the fabled +houris, and robed in eastern magnificence, with discretion's self to +open the portal and invite his entrance; still, he goes not in. A +humming-bird around a rose has caught his vagrant eye, and he is off to +follow its roamings from flower to flower. Was ever such an improvident, +self-willed creature as this boy, Cupid? + + + + + CHAPTER X. + + "It is an era strange, yet sweet, + Which every woman's heart hath known, + When first her bosom learns to beat + To the soft music of a tone; + That era, when she first begins + To know what love alone can teach, + That there are hidden depths within + Which friendship never yet could reach." + + +Annie Evalyn was alone in her room, a second time, sitting down to +answer her friend Netta's letter. It was the first leisure she had known +in several weeks, and she would hardly have commanded it now, but that +Sheldon was gone to conclude an extensive land contract, into which he +was entering with Lawrence Hardin; allured by flattering representations +of the immense emolument sure to result from these speculations, when +emigration should raise to an untold value the worth of those extensive +tracts, then lying wild and uncultivated through those western +countries. + +Dr. Prague had also advised him to the course, regarding it as the +easiest method of keeping good the fortune of Sheldon, whose choice of +literature as a profession tended rather to diminish than increase his +coffers. And so he embarked his all with Hardin; and all thought him +sure to succeed in the enterprise, with so far-seeing and judicious a +partner to counsel and direct. + +We return to Annie. She had opened her portfolio, and placed before her +a pure, virgin page. Twirling the enamelled top from her inkstand, and +fastening a gold pen to a pearl-wrought handle, she commenced her task. + + "I scarcely know what to say, dear Netta; there are so many thoughts + crowded on my brain for utterance, that I can scarcely decide what + it is best to say, and what leave unsaid. One thing I feel sure of, + that whatever is imparted in confidence, will remain safe in your + trusty bosom; and O, how blessed am I, in the possession of such a + friend! Would you were here beside me this evening, your arm clasped + tenderly about my neck, your dear, earnest eyes looking in mine. + But, alas! we are far asunder. Your sweet letter brought many vivid + pictures before my mind of the happy hours passed in that study + room, and, still further back, that childhood in the rocky cottage + of Scraggiewood. Tell aunty, I still love to call her as in my + childish days, and hope the time is not very far distant when I may + run into her arms for a hearty kissing. + + "But, Netta, I know you are all eagerness to hear what I'm doing + here; how I speed on my aspiring way, and what is my progress toward + the temple of fame it was e'er my proudest wish to enter. + + "Alas, Netta! I'm ashamed to say the indefatigable Annie Evalyn has + relapsed her energies, has faltered in her pursuit of glory, and + surrendered herself to the enjoyment of the passing hour. And yet I + was never so happy as now; no, never in my life. To love and to be + loved; dear sis, do you know what it is? If not, no words of mine + can tell you. Frank Sheldon has never told me his heart was mine, + but it is a poor love that needs words to express it, I fancy. He is + rich, handsome and honored; yet it is not for these I love him, but + because his tastes and feelings are in unison with mine. + + "But, Netta, I have to endure some ill will, and cold looks, which + detract from my happiness. A share of that experience aunty declared + 'better than books,' has been taught my hopeful nature, and often do + I think of your kind father's tender admonitions. + + "Adieu, dearest; I've told my tale in brief. I need not say, guard + it well. + + "You have seen some of my simple productions in the magazines, and + are pleased to think well of them, for which I thank you kindly. I'm + writing none at present. With love to all, I am, + + "Truly, + + "ANNIE." + +The letter was folded and directed as she heard a voice in the hall +calling her name. It was Sheldon's; and a bright smile irradiated her +features, as, throwing aside the writing materials, she prepared to go +down. He met her on the stairs. + +"I couldn't find you anywhere," he said, "and the parlors were dark and +cold as midnight. Where have you been and how occupied all the while +I've been away winding up that tiresome contract with Hardin?" + +"In my room, writing a letter to a friend," she answered, with a +pleasant smile, as he was leading her through the several parlors, to +fix on one exactly suited to his taste. + +"Writing?" said he, reproachfully; "O, Annie!" + +"Why, what of that?" she asked. + +"O, nothing, I suppose; but I can't endure to think you can sit down, +cold and calm, when I'm away, and indite your thoughts on paper. I can +neither read, write, nor think, without you, Annie." + +She blushed at these words. + +"Come," he continued, drawing her close to his side; "I need not tell +you I love you, Annie, for that you know already; but you can render me +very happy, by speaking one little word in answer to a question I want +to ask." + +Still blushing and turning away her eyes, and he gazing so eloquently +upon her downcast features. + +"Will you speak it, Annie?" + +"Let me hear the question," she said. + +He inclined his head and whispered in her ear. She placed her hand in +his, and he looked most happily answered as he wound his arm round her +waist and pressed the little hand close to his heart. + +There was a band of wandering musicians playing in the street, and he +led her to the casement. She leaned lightly against his shoulder, and +thus they stood there listening to the music. It was rough enough, and +could hardly have pleased at any other time; but it sounded like the +symphonies of angels to them now. O, what divine strains! But the melody +was all in their own hearts. The screeching wheels of a dirt cart would +have failed to strike a dissonance upon their ears; for all nature +rolled on in linked harmony to them; they fancied they were very near +heaven, and so they were; they thought they could not be much happier if +they were really there, and it is doubtful if they could. + +Thus wrapped in their new-found happiness, let us leave with prophetic +good-night. + + + + + CHAPTER XI. + + "So fails, so languishes, grows dim and dies, + All that this world is proud of. From their spheres + The stars of human glory are cast down. + Perish the roses and the flowers of kings, + Princes and emperors, and the crowns and palms + Of all the mighty, withered and consumed. + Nor is power long given to lowliest innocence + Long to protect her own." + + +"Hardin, don't you remember the old fortune-telling hag that used to +keep office in a heap of rocks in that deuced rough hole called +Scraggiewood?" asked a gay, reckless-looking young man, as he lighted a +cigar, and settled himself in a comfortable armchair with feet elevated +on the fender. + +"Indeed I do," responded Hardin, quickly. "You and I made her a visit +one evening, you know, and she drew forth rather ominous fortunes for +both of us from her teapot of destiny. Ha, ha! what was it the hag told +me, Sumpter?" + +"That you would be a wicked fellow, marry a lovely woman, who wouldn't +care a picayune for you, and live after you wished you were dead, I +believe, or something to that import, wasn't it?" + +"Well, I reckon 'twas some talk of this sort; but what brought this +incident to your mind now, Jack?" + +"It was recalled by sight of that young lady at your father-in-law's. +Don't you remember, that night we were at the rock den in Scraggiewood, +there was a child, a little girl, sleeping on a pallet in the room?" + +"Yes, perfectly." + +"Well, that child and this young lady are one and the same." + +"It cannot be!" exclaimed Hardin, quickly. + +"It is so, I'm positive. But stop; what is this girl's name?" + +"Annie Evalyn." + +"Exactly. I asked the old crone that night what was her child's name, +and she told me the one you have just repeated." + +"Is it possible?" ejaculated Hardin in a ruminating manner. + +"It is easy to convince your doubts. Just engage her in conversation and +allude to her early life. She'll betray herself, my word for it. Besides +I've heard of her since you left the east. She had a beau there at +Scraggiewood, one George Wild; and after picking up some education at a +country parson's, came west as governess in a wealthy family. These +several things have recurred to my memory since beholding her at Dr. +Prague's last evening; for, depend upon it, this fine lady, who +captivates all hearts, is the old Scraggiewood witch's daughter." + +After this speech from Sumpter a silence ensued. Hardin was revolving in +his mind whether to divulge his plan of revenge to his companion, and +enlist him as a co-worker to assist in the completion of his schemes. He +saw this accidental information would aid in furthering his plans. How +should he use it? He rose and paced the floor. + +"Jack," he said at length, giving him a slap on the shoulder, "can I +trust you?" + +"Always, Hardin," was the ready response. "I am yours to command." + +Another pause, and Hardin continued to pace the floor with nervous, +uneven steps. At length, as he passed the large, oval window, he caught +a glimpse of his wife walking in the conservatory. Approaching, he +tapped slightly on the glass to arrest her attention. She turned, and a +frown gathered on her features as she met his earnest, affectionate +gaze. O, Marion! why couldn't you have smiled then? What might not one +genial look from your sweet eyes have averted? + +Hardin turned away, his heart cold and callous. + +"Fool am I to hesitate!" he muttered; "who cares for me, and whom should +I care for?" + +Drawing a chair close to Sumpter's, they conferred in whispers for the +space of an hour. Then both arose. + +"Now make yourself presentable, Jack," said Hardin, "and we'll proceed +forthwith to put our scheme afoot." + +"I shall be ready in due season," was the answer. + +There was a select company assembled at Dr. Prague's mansion, enjoying +the evening in music and conversation. Annie had just sung a song that +elicited much applause, and Sheldon had contrived to draw her aside to +whisper some word of tenderness in her ear. + +"Frank," said she, "I feel strangely to-night." + +"Why, Annie, are you not happy?" + +"Yes, but I tremble; I'm frightened. I feel as if some awful danger were +impending." + +As she Spoke thus, the door opened, and Esq. Hardin, and his friend, Mr. +Sumpter, were announced. They mingled with the company and soon +approached the group in which Sheldon and Annie had chosen a place. +Hardin presented his friend to the several ladies and gentlemen +composing the circle, and passed on, leaving Sumpter sitting opposite +Annie. Glancing casually toward him, she found his gaze riveted on her +face. + +"May I ask, miss," he said, "if you are not from the eastern country?" + +She replied in the affirmative. + +"Well, I thought I could not be so much mistaken. How are you contented +away out here?" + +"Very well, sir," she answered. + +"Ay, indeed. I've heard say old loves were hard to forget; but I suppose +new ones will obliterate them if anything will." + +By this time the attention of the group was drawn to them. + +"Do you ever hear from your old Aunt Patty, now?" he continued, in the +same bold, familiar manner. + +Annie was startled to hear these words from one who was a stranger to +her; but as so many eyes were on them, she thought best to answer +courteously, and said, "I do sir, frequently." + +"Does she live there in the old rock heap at Scraggiewood, and tell +fortunes and bewitch sitting hens yet?" + +"Sir!" exclaimed Sheldon, "how dare you thus insult a lady in company?" + +"O, be cool, my good fellow! I never yet heard it was an insult to +inquire after one's honest relations, and I've done nothing more, as +this lady I'm sure will admit. I can perhaps give you some information +respecting your former lover, George Wild, Miss Evalyn," he continued; +"he is good and true yet." + +A scream from Annie arrested his words. She had fainted. Sheldon bore +her from the room amidst a buzz of voices, in which Sumpter's was +loudest, declaring he "did not mean to embarrass the young lady. He did +not know but what they were all acquainted with her early history." + +Sheldon did not rejoin the company, and during the remainder of the +evening Sumpter disseminated an exaggerated account of Annie's low birth +and disgraceful parentage among the guests. The tale found too many +willing ears; and Annie was pronounced a vile, artful deceiver, by those +who envied her talents and beauty. + + + + + CHAPTER XII. + + "Alas, the joys that fortune brings + Are trifling and decay! + And those who prize the paltry things, + More trifling still than they. + And what is friendship but a name, + A charm that lulls to sleep; + A shade that follows wealth and fame, + But leaves the wretch to weep?" + + +When Annie Evalyn recovered consciousness, Sheldon was bending over her, +bathing her temples with cologne. As the memory of the recent scene +rushed over her, her cheeks flushed, and she glanced timidly in his +face. It was cold--stern, she fancied. + +"Annie," said he, in a measured tone, "you are better now. I will leave +you for to-night, and to-morrow shall hope for an explanation of what, I +must confess, seems strange and mysterious to me at present. +Good-night!" and he turned to leave the room. + +"Good-night!" she faintly articulated, her eyes following his retreating +figure till the door closed and excluded him from view. "Yes, and a long +good-night too, Frank Sheldon!" she continued, when she was alone; "if +you can thus coldly turn from me,--thus lightly suspect me of artifice +and deceit. O, my God, what a blow! and to fall at such a moment, when I +believed myself almost at the pinnacle of happiness! Surely, the +arch-fiend directed the hand. Such words to be spoken in a fashionable +circle; and they'll all accredit it, for they have,--Heaven knows +why!--long been seeking something to my dispraise. And besides, I cannot +contradict the man's words, for are they not too true? and yet, O must +I be blamed for my humble parentage? O aunty, aunty, I'll not cast a +single reflection! You say you've left off fortune-telling for _my_ +sake--but it is too late now; and perhaps you'll need resort to it again +to support your poor, unfortunate Annie. I'm going to you, aunty; the +rough roof of old Scraggiewood will be above me in a few weeks. Would I +had never wandered from beneath its homely shelter! Truly, the world +_is_ a hard, cold place, aunty, as you forewarned; but I could not +believe it then." + +Annie rose and proceeded mechanically to place a few necessary articles +of clothing in a small satchel; this done, she sat down by the window to +wait till all was quiet below. The rich clothing, the wages and presents +she had received during her two years' residence beneath that roof,--she +would leave them all behind; they were bestowed when she was deemed a +worthy object, and _now_ they would consider it was a vile, artful +deceiver that had sought to ingratiate herself into their favor to +accomplish her own low, selfish designs. She was a fool for going abroad +in the great world; a fool to think she could ever become respected +and loved. _Love!_ There was no such thing! Had not Frank Sheldon, +thirty-six hours after he vowed to love her forever, turned coldly away +at a moment when she most needed his comforting attentions? And, as she +thus thought, a groan of agony escaped her breast. There came a light +tap on the door, and Kate entered hurriedly. + +"O, Annie, Annie!" she exclaimed, embracing the suffering girl warmly, +"I don't believe a word that man said, nor does father either. He says +if you are Satan's daughter, you are better and prettier, and wiser, +than the best of them. As for Frank, he has not spoken since the company +left, and I believe he is struck dumb. I was going to follow him when he +brought you out, but mother prevented me." + +"She is enraged at me, of course," said Annie. + +"O, she is hasty, you know!" returned Kate. "I dare say all will be +right in a day or two; so dry your eyes and go to sleep, and wake up as +merry as if that ugly Mr. Sumpter had never come here with his impudent +stories. For my part, I wonder Lawrence should bring such a monster into +genteel society;" and with a kiss they parted. + +Annie sat motionless another hour, and then, cautiously opening the +door, listened breathlessly a few moments. All was still; and, taking +her satchel, she glided noiselessly down the stairs and into the street. +Her heart sank within her as the cold wind struck her cheek; but she +moved rapidly forward, eager to place a distance between her and the +scene of her abasement. Soon she was on the broad, rough prairie road, +over which a waning moon cast pale, sickly beams. By daylight she +reached a settler's cabin, and learned that a stage-coach would pass +there in a few moments, bound eastward. She requested the privilege of +waiting its arrival, which was readily granted, and also such +refreshments placed before her as the cabin afforded; but she could not +eat. The coach soon appeared, and she rejoiced to find herself the only +passenger. The door was closed, and the hard, jolting vehicle rumbled on +its way. And here was Annie Evalyn, the beautiful, the gifted, the +admired Annie Evalyn of yesterday, flying like a guilty outcast from the +scenes amid which she had been so happy. + +Great was the surprise at Dr. Prague's mansion, on the following +morning, when Annie's flight became known. No token was left by which a +clue to her course might be discovered. Sheldon carried himself like a +crazy one. The old doctor bustled about, and said he would search the +world over to bring her back. Kate cried, and the children loudly +bewailed the loss of their dear governess. Mrs. Prague seemed the only +calm and rational one in the household; she declared herself glad to get +rid of the baggage, and considered her flight proof positive of her +guilt. + +This view seemed rather plausible certainly. If innocent, why did she +not remain and boldly refute the tale Sumpter had told? + +When the news of her flight was made known to Esquire Hardin, he laughed +heartily, and called up Sumpter to join him. The latter expressed +himself "sorry if he had unwittingly been the cause of an unpleasant +occurrence in Dr. Prague's family." + +"What, the deuce!" said Hardin, "do you suppose they wish to harbor a +young witch?" + +"Why, no,--but this gentleman, Mr. Sheldon." + +"Give yourself no uneasiness in regard to me, sir!" said Sheldon, +sternly. "I will manage and control my own affairs." + +"Bravely spoken, Frank!" remarked Hardin, "Now let us adjourn to the +dinner-saloon and drink a merry bout over fortunate denouement." + + + + + CHAPTER XIII. + + "It was a bitter pain + That pierced her gentle heart; + For barbed by malice was the dart, + And sped by treachery's deadliest art, + The shaft ne'er sped in vain." + + +The wild winds wailed wofully over the lonesome prairie, smiting sadly +upon poor Annie's heavy heart as she sat in the hard, jolting coach, +which, owing to the bad state of the roads, made but sorry progress. It +was already dark, and the driver said they had yet ten miles to ride in +order to reach the nearest post town. They entered a dense timber land, +and the wheels struck deep into a loose, gravelly sand, so the poor +horses could scarcely drag on at a slow walk. The coachman hallooed and +cracked his whip about their ears, but all to no effect; the animals +were worn down by a hard day's travel; and Annie, annoyed by his +boisterous vociferations, at last put her head out the window and begged +him not to beat the jaded animals, but let them proceed at their own +pace. + +"All one to me, miss," was the answer; "did it to please you; thought +you mought be a hungry, or mebbe sort o' tired, a settin' in there all +alone so. Whoa, Johnny! take it easy since it is the lady's wish. We +shall be just as well off a hundred years hence, I dare say, and supper +will be sweeter, the longer delayed." + +With this philosophical reflection, he relapsed into silence, and for +two hours they continued to drag through the heavy sand, with nothing to +relieve the monotony, save the shrill bark of the wolf, far in the deep +forest, answered by the deep growl of the bear, or piercing cry of the +ferocious catamount. + +Annie shivered with nervous terror at these wild, savage sounds; and +when at last, as they reached the open prairie, and struck a harder +bottom, the horses mended their paces, she felt sensibly relieved. At +length they entered a small, new town, and drew up before a large, +awkward building. The steps were lowered and Annie alighted, and soon +found herself in a long, dingy apartment, with a bright pine-wood fire +blazing and crackling in a huge, yawning fire-place at its farthest +extremity. She was chilled, and sat down before the glowing hearth to +warm her benumbed fingers. Presently a tall woman, in a short-sleeved +frock and large deer-skin moccasins, strode into the room, and with a +deep, ungainly courtesy asked, "What the lady would be thinking to take +for a bit of supper?" + +Annie answered she would take a biscuit and cup of tea, if she pleased, +and then retire to her apartment, as she was much fatigued. + +"And won't you have a chunk o' venison, or cold 'possum, to make your +biscuit relish, miss?" asked the woman. + +"No, I thank you," said Annie; "I don't feel much hungry to-night." + +"Why, I reckoned you must be well-nigh starved, a ridin' all day long, +and nothing to lay your jaws to; but, howsomever, you know your own +wants best." + +The woman went out, and soon returned with Annie's supper spread on a +pine board. Annie could hardly repress a smile at sight of the novel +tea-table. Her meal was quickly despatched, and she again signified her +wish to retire. It was a rough, dismal apartment into which she was +ushered, but, tired and jaded, she threw herself on the hard couch, and, +despite the trouble at her heart, slept soundly till morning. + +On rising, her first thought was to examine her little stock of money, +and she found it amounted to only seventeen dollars and a half, out of +which she must pay her coach and tavern fare. It was evident that she +must seek some employment to assist in defraying her travelling +expenses. The question was, whether she should remain where she was, or +go on as far as her scanty means would carry her. She went out to make +some inquiries of the woman who had waited on her the night previous. + +"Get some work to do, miss!" said she in a tone of surprise. "What can +you do? Can you cut fodder, or cradle rye, or catch 'possums?" + +Annie smiled, and said, "No, but I can teach school, do sewing, or +housework." + +"Wall, I don't know; you look a mighty fine lady to be asking for work; +but then it is none o' my business to be pryin' into other folks' +concerns. We are new settlers here, and have to get along as close as we +can. I don't reckon you'll find anybody rich enough to hire ye in these +diggins. You'll do better along further east, where folks are richer and +more 'fined." + +Matters looked unpromising, and Annie concluded to follow the woman's +suggestion, and travel on as far as the small funds would carry her. But +in the two years she had been at the west, the facilities for travelling +had improved, and prices were also reduced, so that her little purse +carried her much further on her route than she had expected. When it +finally gave out, she with great joy found she was but fifty miles from +her destination, and with a courageous heart resolved to perform the +remainder of the journey on foot. + +Accordingly, she set forward. The weather was fine, and she did not +doubt her ability to accomplish the distance in two days, at farthest. +Every mile passed inspired her with fresh courage, for was she not so +much nearer a heart that loved her? O, how she longed to be clasped to +that warm, beating bosom, and weep her sorrows forth to one she knew +would pity, sympathize, and strive to heal! + + + + + CHAPTER XIV. + + "Do you come with the heart of your childhood back, + The free, the pure, the kind? + Thus murmured the trees in the homeward track, + As they played at the sport of the wind." + + +The autumn evening stole calmly, sweetly on. Again October's harvest +moon rode through the liquid ether, and poured her silvery beams over +the wild, old forest of Scraggiewood, as we saw it long ago when Annie +Evalyn's years were calm and golden-hued as Luna's gentle rays. She was +coming now to the low, cottage home. With weary, languid step, she +threaded the old, familiar path, and it seemed to have grown rougher, +and the forest looked wilder and darker than in the days gone by. Poor +Annie! the darkness and gloom were in thy weary, world-tossed heart. +That heart beat wildly as she drew nearer the wished-for spot. What if +she should see no light gleaming through the aperture in the rocky +walls? What if the door should be fallen away, and no aunty there to +welcome the wanderer's return? She quickened her pace, and a few moments +banished all fears. The cottage came in view, and a bright light +streamed through the rough-cut window. Now Annie clasped her hands, and +thanked God that her journey was well-nigh ended. She saw her aunt +bending over the embers on the hearth, as she paused a moment on the +threshold. Then, entering softly, she stole to the side of the old lady, +and, passing an arm round her neck, whispered in a low, trembling tone: +"Here's Annie, come home to love and you, dear aunty." + +The old woman sprang so suddenly from her kneeling posture as nearly to +throw the slender form upon the floor, and gazed wildly in the speaker's +face. + +"Why aunty, don't you know me?" + +"Bless me, it is her voice! but how could she rise up here on my +hearth-stone to-night, like a witch or fairy?" + +"No, aunty; I am no witch or fairy that has risen on your hearth. I +walked all the way through the dim old forest to reach you, and it looks +just as it used to, only darker and more frightful." + +"Come here, darling, 'tis you! I know that voice. O how many times I've +dreamed I heard it in the long, lonesome nights!" and she wept, laughed, +and kissed her recovered child in a perfect abandonment of joy. "And so +you have come home at last to see your old aunty? I've had awful +feelings about you lately, hinney, and boding dreams; and ofttimes I've +been sorry I let you go into the evil world; 'for if it should use her +hard, would it not break both our hearts?' I said to myself. 'But, then, +Annie is so pretty and good, and has got so much book-learnin' and so +many accomplishments,' something would say. 'Ay, that's the mischief of +it. Such things always make bad folks envy those that possess them, and +Annie is so tender-hearted and shrinking, I'm afeard, I'm afeard for +her.'" + +Annie sunk her head on her aunt's shoulder while she was speaking thus, +and the tears, she had been striving to suppress since her entrance, +began to roll over her cheeks thick and fast. The excitement and anxiety +of the journey had in a measure diverted her mind from the events which +caused it; but now that she had gained the wished-for haven, her aunty's +words brought the past before her vision; that mortifying +humiliation--all she had enjoyed, all she had hoped for, and O, all she +had lost!--rushed upon her recollection, and she sobbed aloud. + +"O, mercy, mercy, it is as I feared!" exclaimed the old woman, in an +agonized tone; "something has hurt my darling, and now I mark how pale +and thin she is grown. Annie, Annie, tell your aunty what's the matter." + +Annie made a strong effort to calm her emotion. + +"I am fatigued and overcome," she said. + +"Ah! it is something more than that, child--I can tell; but you shall +rest till to-morrow. I'll make you a nice cup of tea, and then you shall +lie in your little cot-bed once more. I've always kept it dressed white +and clean, and often been in there nights before I laid my old bones +down to rest, and wished I could see my darling there, breathing long +and sweet, as she used to, in happy dreams." + +Annie was glad to retire, for she was indeed fatigued. Her aunt tucked +the counterpane snugly around her, and hung a shawl before the window, +"for hinney looked too pale and slender to bear the cold air now," she +said. Then she insisted on sitting by the cot till her darling slept; +but Annie begged she would not. + +"Go to bed, aunty, and get a good sleep, so as to be rested and fresh to +hear a long tale of my adventures to-morrow," and the kind old soul, +after kissing the white brow, bade Annie good-night, and sought her +pillow. + +It was long ere Annie slept, and when at last she did so, hideous shapes +and direful omens floated through her dreams. Once she awoke, when all +was dark and still, to find a burning fever on her cheek, and dull, +throbbing pain in her temples. At peep of dawn the old woman rose and +stole into the apartment. She wanted to see her little pet sleeping in +her cot-bed, as she used to years before. There she lay, her arms thrown +above her head as when a child, and the rich chestnut curls lying in +dark relief on the snowy pillow. But the deep, sweet respirations, and +the healthful glow of childhood were not there. A blue circle surrounded +the closed lids, and a fever-flush burned in the centre of each cheek. +The aunt saw her darling was ill. She took one thin, hot hand in hers, +and felt the pulse fluttering fast and wild. The sleeper woke and +started up, turning her eyes quickly round the apartment. + +"Don't you know where you are, Annie?" asked the aunt. "This is your old +room at Scraggiewood, and I'm your aunty." + +"O, yes! I remember now; but I think I'm sick, my poor head aches and +throbs so badly. You used to cure all my pains, aunty." + +"I hope I can cure you now, hinney. I'll go and prepare you a cooling +drink of herbs. You must be very quiet, and I trust you will be well in +a few days." + +Annie submitted patiently. A week passed by ere she was able to make her +aunt fully acquainted with her woful tale. The poor woman seemed as much +afflicted as Annie, but she strove by every means in her power to soothe +and comfort the suffering heart. Netta Gray had been married to George +Wild a few weeks before her return, and was now absent on a visiting +tour, and Annie's health continued feeble. It could hardly be otherwise +with a mind so heavy and depressed. For several months she remained in +seclusion at the lowly cot in Scraggiewood. + + + + + CHAPTER XV. + + "For the weak heart that vainly yearned + For human love its life to cheer, + Baffled and bleeding has returned, + To stifle down its crying here." + + * * * + + "Thou shalt go forth in prouder might + And firmer strength e'er long." + + +Up to the clear blue sky, when the sun was gone down on the silent +earth, clad in the pure white snow-mantle, and away over the tops of the +forest-pines, at the diamond stars hung in the far-off heaven, gazed +Annie Evalyn through that long, dreary winter, from the window of that +rude hut in the solitary depths of Scraggiewood. How she mourned o'er +her shattered idols, all fallen and wasted on their shrines! What a blow +had been dealt her sensitive nature! "O, it was so bitter cruel!" she +thought; "and what had she done that she should suffer thus?" + +In vain her aunt tried to soothe and solace, by telling her time would +bring better hopes. Parson Grey would sometimes drop in of a Saturday +evening to coax and encourage his former pupil, and bring some nice +tit-bit to tempt Annie's delicate relish. + +"You will regain your health and spirits when the spring opens, my +child," he would say. "Netta will come home, and we shall have you over +to the Parsonage, and all will seem like old times again. Then you must +resume that pen of yours, Annie, and let it write down those speaking +thoughts that lie in your inventive brain. You know my old doctrine; it +is a glorious thing to do good, and you can exert a happy and extensive +influence upon society. I know you will not abuse the noble faculties +given you by the great Creator." + +"Ah, he does not know all!" Annie would think. "I once was vain enough +to suppose I possessed faculties and powers to act a brave part in life; +but they've been bruised and broken in the very outset. I've no energy, +no aspirations; because there's nothing in the future to beckon me on. +Wherever I turn is desolation; and I despise my weakness as much as I +lament my misfortune. But I'll no more of a world that has dealt me my +death-blow. Here, in this solitude of nature, let me die and sink to +oblivion." + +Thus she ruminated, while the shadowy wintry days sped on; and reason, +weak and powerless in the headlong tide of passion that swept and swayed +in her breast, was buffeted and submerged in the furious waves; and yet, +when the storm had spent its fury, should it not arise clear and +brilliant, and over the subsiding tumult be heard to utter a calm, proud +jubilate of triumph and redemption? + +Spring came at last. The snows disappeared; buds swelled on the tall +trees, and burst forth into canopies of leafy-green, and the feathered +songsters came hieing from southern bowers, with wings of light and +songs of gladness. Annie began to brighten; slowly, and almost +imperceptibly at first, and without her own knowledge or consent. Those +faculties she had fancied killed were only stunned. + +When she found herself, one sunny April day, at her little, rude table, +inditing her beautiful thoughts on paper, she grew angry at her folly, +as she termed it, and tore the sheet. "And was she again seeking what +had once blasted her happiness? Let the desolation of the past deter her +from all intercourse with the heartless world again." + +But the sunny gleams from the beauty-fraught robes of the spring-queen +had fallen on the chilled fountains, and they began to melt and flow +again. And their music _would_ be heard. As the brook down in the forest +seemed to send sweeter, more joyous echoings on the ear after its winter +sleep, so Annie's soul poured softer, holier strains of melody from its +deep well-spring of chastened, purified feeling. Yet the struggle was +not all over. Some tears, some regrets, some rebellious thoughts, yet +lingered. The wildest storm oft passes the soonest by; but traces of its +effects may remain to the end of time. + +Netta returned from her travels, and the two friends, so long parted, +sat together in the old study again, and with clasped hands poured out +their hearts to each other. + +Annie could not avoid saying, "My life-happiness is wrecked, Netta!" as +she completed a rehearsal of her misfortunes, "O, that I had been less +confident and aspiring! Then I had not suffered thus." + +"Do not speak thus, Annie!" returned Netta, tenderly. "Your happiness is +not lost. With a mind so brilliant as yours, you must not yield to +despondency. I will do all in my power to render your life pleasant, and +so will George. He says your influence made him all he is. You rebuked +his slothful habits and urged him to activity. He felt the truth of your +words, though it wounded him deeply to have them come from you. I know +all, Annie. George loved you once, but I've forgiven him, and love you +all the better for having made me so good a husband." Here Netta laughed +and kissed her friend's cheek. + +Annie returned the caress. "If I've unwittingly done you any good, +Netta," she said, "it is no greater pleasure to have done it than to +hear it acknowledged so prettily." + +"But don't you think it very singular you have never received your +property from Dr. Prague?" asked Netta, turning the conversation back to +her friend's affairs. "I should have thought it but common honesty in +them to have forwarded your clothes and wages." + +"O, why should they trouble themselves to give a thought to so vile and +artful a wretch?" responded Annie, bitterly. + +"There, there, Annie, hush!" said Netta. "Vengeance will overtake them +for thus treating worth and innocence. And Sheldon, have you never heard +from him?" + +"Never!" answered Annie, and a tear fell as she spoke. + +"Not once!" said Netta. "He who could thus shamefully neglect one, so +lovely and beautiful, is not worthy of one precious drop from these +eyes." + +"And yet he seemed so noble and good, it is hard to cast blame on his +conduct. O, Netta, I cannot forget him!" she exclaimed, bursting into +tears. + +Ah, the love was there yet!--a little chastened and subdued, yet wanting +but a kindly touch to rouse it to all its early strength and power. A +bitter chastisement had tamed, but not conquered or expelled, the coy +truant from her breast. Should it aye sleep on, or one day know an +awakening? + + + + + CHAPTER XVI. + + "Go on, go on: you think me quite a fool; + Woman, my eyes are open." + + +In their sumptuous drawing-room, before a sparkling grate, sat Dr. +Prague and his amiable lady, in genial after-dinner mood; he burly, and +easy-natured, enjoying his oranges; she, majestic and oratorical in her +rustling brocades. + +"Doctor," said she, after a brief silence, "I wish to call your +attention to an important subject." + +"Ah! what may it be?" he inquired, in a careless tone. + +"Why, our Catherine's approaching union with Mr. Sumpter." + +"Is the girl going to marry Sumpter? I don't like it, madam, I don't +like it;" and the usually placid doctor displayed considerable +impatience in his tone and manner. + +"Why not? he is a wealthy, accomplished gentleman." + +"Humph! a conceited, tricksy villain, you mean." + +"Dr. Prague, is he not the friend and partner of my son-in-law, Esq. +Hardin?" + +"What of it?" + +"Why, a good deal of it, I should say. Is not Esq. Hardin one of the +first men in the city? I made the match between him and Marion, and I'm +proud of the alliance. You cannot say that it was not a wise and +judicious one." + +"Whew! I don't know. Marion as melancholy as a mummy, and a child that +shrieks in terror whenever its father approaches. Perhaps a wise match, +but far enough from a happy one, I should say." + +"The world calls it a nice match." + +"Indeed." + +At this point of the conversation Kate entered the room. + +"Come hither, child," said her father; "do you love this Mr. Sumpter?" + +"Why, no, father. I've never been able to conquer my aversion toward +him, since he vilified Annie's character, and caused her flight," said +she, wondering at her father's question. + +"Then you do not wish to marry him?" + +"Heavens! no." + +"All right then. I'll see that you don't. Now run away, child." + +"Dr. Prague, I'm astonished at you," exclaimed Mrs. Prague, in her most +towering style, as the door closed after Kate, "thus to pamper to the +follies of your offspring. Young people never know what is for their +interest. They should be held in perfect subjection to their parents' +wishes, and taught to obey their slightest commands." + +"Very pretty, Mrs. Prague," remarked the doctor, carelessly, as his wife +paused for breath. + +Whether he alluded to her logic or her face, we cannot say. + +"Had Sheldon been discreet and saved his fortune," she resumed, "he +would have been the proper man for our Catherine." + +"But he blundered and fell in love with Annie Evalyn." + +"Faugh! don't mention that minx to me," said Mrs. Prague, with a sneer; +"but it must be confessed, Sheldon has very limited knowledge of +business, or he might have saved a part of his fortune at least. My +son-in-law, Esq. Hardin, by his alacrity and far-seeing judgment, +secured himself from material loss in the great land crash." + +"Humph! quite as likely by his cunning and artful machinations." + +"Dr. Prague, I'm astonished to hear you detract from the worth and +honesty of your son-in-law, even in our private conversation." + +"I may repeat here what I've of late heard broached in public places, +that Hardin involved Sheldon in the speculations with the intention to +effect his ruin." + +"Such groundless insinuations are worthy their originators," said Mrs. +Prague, in an angry, vehement tone. + +"May be time will render us all wiser than we are now, madam." + +"I hope it will," she answered, significantly, as with a lofty air she +rose from the luxurious sofa, and remarked, "I will now go down to +Marion's, and pass an hour in conversation with my son-in-law." + +"Do so, madam," said the doctor, "and as you pass the office door, send +Kate up here with my cigar-case, if you please. It lies on the table +there." + +And the majestic Mrs. Dr. Prague rustled her brocades into the private +parlor of her daughter Marion, just as the latter was hushing the +shrieks of a chubby little boy, who seemed nearly frantic with affright. + +"What is the matter of him, Marion?" asked she. + +"His father kissed him in his sleep and woke him. You know he always +screams at sight of Lawrence." + +"Strange he should be afraid of his father; but he will doubtless get +over it as he grows older." + +"I think it increases upon him." + +"Is not Lawrence at home?" inquired Mrs. Prague. + +"He is in the office with Mr. Sumpter, I believe," was the reply. + +"Would you think it, Marion? Your father is opposed to our Catherine's +marrying Mr. Sumpter." + +"Indeed, I do not wonder. I do not consider him a proper person for any +young lady of taste and refinement to marry." + +"Why so? Lawrence extols him." + +"Does he?" + +The child had grown quiet, and now slept in its mother's arms. As her +son-in-law did not appear, Mrs. Prague soon retired. + +Hardin was having a stormy scene with Sumpter. The latter had of late +grown bold and impetuous. Admitted in confidence to all Hardin's +nefarious schemes and plottings, he gained a power over the wicked man, +and began to exercise it with arbitrary sway. He was a reckless, +unprincipled gambler, and, having recently encountered heavy losses, +came with a bold demand on Hardin's purse. + +"You are getting to use me shabbily," he exclaimed, angrily; "with all +Sheldon's fortune tucked away in your pocket, to say nothing of--you +know what--you refuse me so small a favor as a cool thousand. Come, hand +over, or, by Heaven, I'll inform against you!" + +"You can hardly do that, without marring your own good fame," said +Hardin, ironically; "and I know you would shrink from doing that." + +"None of your sneers, Hardin," growled Sumpter, fiercely; "will you give +me the money?" + +"No!" thundered Hardin, with an oath; "you shall not ride rough-shod +over me in this way. Now begone from my sight!" + +"Very well; good-evening, Esq. Hardin," said Sumpter, with a savage, +revengeful leer on his countenance, as he went out, slamming the door +spitefully behind him. + +Hardin was alarmed, after the wretch was gone, as he reflected how far +he was in the monster's power, and in what ruin he might involve him if +he chose. + + + + + CHAPTER XVII. + + "Now mark him in the tempest hour, + Will he be calm, or will he quail + Before the fury of its power? + ----Read ye the tale." + + +There are those that know not the extent of their powers till they are +called forth and tasked to the utmost by trial and misfortune. Such an +one was Frank Sheldon. Disposed to ease and quiet in the hour of +prosperity, when adversity came, it aroused him at once to vigorous, +decisive action. Though bereft of love and fortune at a blow, as it +were, his manly spirit did not cower and sink beneath the strokes; that +he suffered is true, but he bore up bravely under the adverse fortune. +He was proud, as all great minds are, and the blight so publicly cast on +Annie Evalyn's good repute, cut him to the quick; but he hoped she might +be able to refute the aspersions cast on her by Sumpter, for he was loth +to think ill of a being that had appeared so amiable and exalted in her +nature, so lofty in soul and intellect, and was beautiful as an angel in +person. But, instead of this, she fled by night from the scene of her +confusion, leaving behind all her effects, and no clue to her intended +course. Did not this wear the appearance of guilt? Still he did not +condemn her, but learned from Dr. Prague the place of her former +residence, and wrote a letter, assuring her of a continuance of +affection, and asking an explanation of Sumpter's strange tale. No +answer was returned,--indeed, the letter never reached its destination; +but this Sheldon did not know, and was forced to regard the silence as +another proof of her cupidity. + +With this view of the matter he found it less difficult to subdue his +passion. He could not, _would_ not love a guilty, artful thing. + +And now fell another blow in quick succession; his land investment +proved worthless, and at a sweep his fortune went past power to recover. +Hardin expressed much regret, but Sheldon could not avoid noticing that +he clutched at every opportunity to save his own affairs, and exposed +him to the most uncertain hazards. + +Old Dr. Prague loudly bewailed Sheldon's ill luck, and declared he would +never forgive himself for having advised the young man to embark in the +cursed speculations. But Sheldon begged him not to be unnecessarily +distressed, as it was no fault of his that the schemes proved abortive; +and the good doctor finally coincided, and settled down to his oranges +with tolerable serenity. + +Sheldon did not long remain inactive; he left those scenes amid which +misfortune had overtaken him, and repaired to the eastern cities, where +he readily found employ in an extensive printing establishment, and +applied himself assiduously to his duties. In a short time he was +admitted to the firm, and became assistant editor of a popular magazine. +This was an occupation congenial to his tastes, as it afforded him not +only an opportunity of writing, but of reading, and becoming intimately +acquainted with the polite literature of the day. + +He was one day in the editorial sanctum, examining a quantity of +manuscripts lately received, when one, in a clear, delicate female hand, +attracted his eye. There was something in the light, fairy tracery which +instantly riveted his attention. He read it through; "Woodland Winne," +was the signature,--a _nomme de plume_, of course. He wondered who could +be the fair authoress of this beautiful production. + +While thus occupied in conjectures, a gentleman entered the apartment. + +"Here, Wilberforce, do you know this MS.?" said Sheldon, holding it +toward him. + +"O, yes!" answered the gentleman, glancing it over; "beautiful hand, is +it not?" + +"Yes; but who is the writer?" + +"O, I don't know that! I have had several communications from the same +pen in the last three months, all exquisite in their style and diction, +and eliciting warm commendation from the literary press." + +"And cannot you discover the fair unknown?" + +"No, I have addressed her under her _nomme de plume_, and desired her +true name remitted, in confidence, if she objected to publicity; but she +has never seen fit to gratify my curiosity." + +"Strange one so deserving should shun notoriety," remarked Sheldon. + +"So it seems to me," said Wilberforce, who was the senior editor; "but I +came in to call you to the Literary Association; it meets at three +o'clock. Come, let's be off, or we shall be too late;--these MSS. we can +look over to-morrow." + +They closed the office and went out in company. But Sheldon forgot +himself several times in the debate, as a semblance of that delicate +manuscript, enwrit with those clear, sparkling fancies, rose often +before his mental vision. + +There seemed to be a spell about it, to charm and lead captive his +imagination. + + + + + CHAPTER XVIII. + + "The hour of vengeance strikes,--hark to the gale! + As it bursts hollow through the rolling clouds. + Such is the hand of Heaven!" + + +It came at length, swift, avenging justice; awful in might, and none +could resist its angry hand. + +The "pestilence that walketh at noonday," swept over the fair, young +cities of the west, and thousands fell victims to the remorseless +destroyer. + +O, Cholera! great be the name of him, who, from the mazes of scientific +lore, shall call a power to rob thee of thy terrors, thou scourge of +mankind! + +Lawrence Hardin returned from a southern trip to find his house left +desolate; wife and child both in their hastily-covered graves. He shook +with agony, and scarce was the first frantic burst of grief subsided, +ere the officers of justice entered his mansion and declared him their +prisoner. He glared at them wildly. + +"What mean you," he asked, "by this untimely intrusion in the house of +death?" + +"Prepare to accompany us to the court-room immediately," was the answer, +"to answer to a charge of swindling and forgery preferred by one John +Sumpter, who is also arrested and undergoing examination." + +Hardin grew ashy-pale at these words. + +"The villain!" he muttered; "so he has betrayed me. Carry me where you +will, Mr. Officer. Life is a curse to me henceforth." + +Thus speaking, he resigned himself passively to the custody of the +sheriffs. They conducted him instantly to the court-house, and placed +him in the prisoner's box beside Sumpter, who cowered and moved away at +his approach. Hardin threw a look of envenomed hatred on the wretch, and +sat down. When the charges were read he merely bowed; and when asked +what he had to plead, replied: "Nothing, only that they would hang him +up as soon as convenient, and thus end his misery." He was placed in +jail with Sumpter, and several other defaulters, to await a final trial +at the autumn sessions. + +And the pestilence swept on; young and old, rich and poor, all fell +before its blasting power. In the brief space of twenty-four hours, Dr. +Prague was bereft of wife and children, and left a poor, lone man, in +his solitary mansion. Where should the mourner turn for consolation? At +this crisis, he thought of his old friend, Parson Grey, and determined +to quit the city for a few weeks, till the epidemic should have +subsided, and make him a visit. He was just the calm, holy spirit he +needed to solace his afflictions; and accordingly a letter was +despatched, which brought a speedy reply, sympathizing in his distress, +and urgently inviting him to join them as soon as possible. + +He visited Hardin before departing, informed him of the death of all his +family, and kindly inquired if he could be of any service to the +imprisoned man. + +"No!" was the answer; "and I don't know what you came here at all for. +What do I care if your wife and brats _are_ dead? So is _my_ wife dead, +and _my_ child, and I hope soon to be. The greatest favor you can bestow +is to get out of my sight." + +The doctor gazed on the hardened wretch with pity, and turned away. He +left the city in July, and the first of September the trials came on. +The large court-house was densely thronged to hear the pleas and +decision in the case of the extensive forgeries and bank frauds of +Hardin and Sumpter. There could be little doubt of the verdict, as the +evidence against the parties was powerful and conclusive, and none +seemed so regardless of the issue as the prisoners themselves. With +hard, stoical faces, they confronted the jury, as they returned from +their deliberations and resumed their seats on the platform. + +Without, the elements were raging in their wildest, most terrific fury. +Broad flashes of lightning at intervals illuminated the crowded hall, +and glared on the sea of upturned human faces, marked with every variety +and shade of passion and feeling. The thunder roared and reverberated +through the heavens with tremendous crashings, as the judge arose, and, +turning toward the jury, asked, in solemn accents, if they had agreed +upon a verdict. + +They had. + +"Are the prisoners at the bar guilty, or not guilty?" + +There came a blinding flash, followed by a deafening thunder-bolt, as +the foreman rose and pronounced the word, "_Guilty_." + +Smothered screams at this moment issued from various parts of the +assembly. The building was struck and on fire. Terrible confusion +ensued. Frantic cries and shrieks mingled with the bellowings of the +storm without, rendering the scene awful beyond description. All rushed +pell-mell for the street. The crackling flames burst through the broad +windows on the side of the judges' platform, rolling a dense volume of +smoke and stifling heat into the interior of the building. In the wild +excitement and terror, the prisoners were forgotten. They stood in the +box where they had received sentence. The flames were rapidly +approaching them. Sumpter turned a glance full of hatred and vengeance +on Hardin. "You swore revenge on Sheldon," said he, "and I helped you +accomplish your iniquitous designs. You refused a paltry sum when I +asked it, and then I swore revenge on you, and this is the way I finish +it." + +Hardin drew a revolver from his breast; "And this is the way I finish +mine," he said; and, taking aim, lodged a ball in the heart of Sumpter. +Then, springing quick as lightning over the box, he rushed among the +crowd and gained the street. The intense darkness favored his flight, +and, hurrying on, he gained the levees, secreted himself in the hold of +a boat, and had the good fortune to find himself floating down the river +in the morning. + + + + + CHAPTER XIX. + + "Go forth, thou spirit proud and high, + Upon thy soaring way; + Plume all thy pinions for the sky, + And sing a glorious lay." + + +As the young sapling of the forest bends and sways in the fury of the +blast, and, when it is passed, rises and shakes the weight of rain-drops +from its pliant boughs, and stands stronger, higher, more beautiful than +before, so Annie Evalyn, when the passion-storm had spent its fury, rose +a purer, loftier being, with a heart firm and free, and a soul elevated +and sublime in its aspirations. There might be traces to tell the +tempest had been a wild one; a paleness on the brow; the lips thinned +and slightly compressed; the eyelids sometimes drooping their long +lashes over the dark, liquid eyes, and a tear stealing silently over the +marble cheek; or a slight shudder for a moment convulsing the slender +frame, as if memory painted a picture the soul shrank from contemplating. +Yet these light tokens of what _had_ been, heightened the sublime beauty +of what was _now_. Annie was no longer a child in the world's lore of +experience. Sorrow and suffering are swift teachers. They unfold and +perfect the powers with astonishing rapidity. Annie Evalyn was a woman; +with a quick eye and ready judgment to detect and discern the workings +of that great mystery, the human heart, yet simple and child-like in her +manners, as of old. + +"Bless it, but this is an agreeable surprise!" exclaimed Aunt Patty, as +Annie entered the little, rock-built cottage, on a clear, cool evening +in early autumn, with a bright smile beaming on her lovely features; +"why, I didn't once think of your comin' to-night, hinney, bein' as you +were here last Saturday. But it does my old heart good to know you +remember your poor, ignorant aunty, when you are among your little +scholars and so many kind friends at the Parsonage." + +"O, I never forget you, aunty!" said Annie, returning the old lady's +embrace; "this humble cot and these old Scraggiewood oaks are very dear +to my heart." + +"I'm glad to hear it, dear; it is a homely spot, to be sure, but it has +sheltered us well. But what is doing at the parson's, love? All well and +happy?" + +"Yes, and Aunt Rachel sent you this little box of wax-candles. She said +you loved to read evenings, sometimes, and these gave such a clear, +steady light, it would do your old eyes good to behold it." + +"The dear, kind-hearted creature!" said Aunt Patty, receiving the +package and brushing away a grateful tear. "Sure she is a perfect +Christian if there is one on earth." + +"O, we have some news at the vicarage, aunty! The old gentleman, in +whose family I resided during my stay in the western country, has sent a +letter to Parson Grey, narrating a sad tale of misfortunes, and +expressing a desire to visit him ere long. It seems the cholera has been +committing frightful ravages through those sections, and his entire +family have been swept away in the brief space of one week. And, O, +aunty, I dread to go on!" + +"Let me hear, child." + +"You recollect the man, Sumpter, who spoke those dreadful words in a +social company?" + +"Yes, yes, didn't I have him here, in this very room, on a night long +ago--and Hardin too? Ay, dark, wicked schemes, and worse than those, +showed in their cups. But go on, love." + +"Well, they have been arrested for forgery and found guilty. The sequel +of the affair Mr. Grey received last evening, in an extra sent him by +Dr. Prague. It appears the verdict was rendered during a violent storm, +which struck the court-house, and, in the confusion that followed, +Hardin shot Sumpter and escaped." + +"O, shocking!" exclaimed Aunt Patty, with horror depicted on her +countenance. "Ay, God's vengeance is sure to overtake the wicked sooner +or later." + +"We look for the arrival of Dr. Prague every day. How do you think he +will meet me, aunty?" + +"How should he meet you, child, but with shame and confusion of face?" + +"But he was always kind to me, aunty." + +"Well, he didn't do right never to send a letter to inquire after your +fate, or forward your clothes and wages." + +"He might have been prevented by his wife. I know she was a violent +woman and had ever a dislike to me." + +"Nothing should prevent a man from doing what is just and right, Annie," +said Aunt Patty, in an inflexible tone; "but it is like you to think the +best of people's failings, and I acknowledge it is a good way. Now, +hinney, I'll make a dish of tea, and we'll have a brimming bowl of +Crummie's sweet milk, with some of your favorite berries. I'm so glad! +It seems a Providence that I gathered some this mornin'. I'll slab up +some batter cakes; you know I'm pretty good at them; and just you light +one of Rachel's candles--though it is hardly dark yet, it will make the +table look so cheerful-like." + +Annie did as directed, and they soon sat down to the simple meal. Aunt +Patty's face was redolent with good-humor and cheerfulness, as she +dished out the largest, ripest berries, and nicest browned cakes for her +darling. + +"Do you write your pretty stories and poetries for that city magazine +now, hinney?" she asked, as they discussed their meal. + +"Yes, aunty, and I have brought several numbers for your perusal. I +still want to be famous, aunty, though I once thought I didn't care for +anything more in this world; but that was in a foolish time, and is past +by now. Mr. Grey says it is better to be good than great; but if one can +be both, why, better still, I fancy. And I know I feel happy when I'm +teaching those poor little children to read and love each other, and +grow up to be blessings to their parents. This is doing good, Mr. Grey +says; but this restless heart of mine is not filled, is not content. It +feels there are other faculties, lying dormant and unemployed. The +editors of this magazine have offered two prizes,--one for the best +tale, the other for the best poem,--and I'm going to strive to win them. +The money would make you very comfortable for life, aunty; and you have +done so much for me I want to repay some of your kindness if I can." + +"Dear heart!" said the old woman, tearfully, "what have I ever done for +you that is not already ten-fold repaid by seeing your bright eyes, and +feeling that you love your old aunty?" + +"But I'm not wholly disinterested, aunty; don't you see I covet the fame +that would follow should I succeed? That's for me; the money for you. +Now kiss me good-night, and I'll to my cot to dream a subject for my +labor." + +"God bless and prosper you, my darling!" said the fond aunt. + + + + + CHAPTER XX. + + "It was a face one loved to gaze upon, + For calm serenity of thought was there. + The eyes were soft and gentle in their glance, + And looked with trusting artlessness in yours. + Placid her mien, like that of lofty souls + That after storm sink down in tranquil rest." + + +Once more is winding on the spring-time of the year, and once more is +Annie Evalyn away from the old forest home. Her soft, bird-like tones +echo through the sumptuous drawing-rooms of Dr. Prague's stately +mansion, in that fair western city. During his visit to the east the +preceding summer, he had succeeded in coaxing her away from Mr. Grey and +her aunt, to pass a few months with him, and cheer and enliven his +lonesome abode. + +"No one could do this so well as Annie," he said, "always his pet and +darling; though his foolish, yielding old heart had been overruled by +others to treat her with wicked neglect, for which he now cursed +himself, and wanted opportunity to make amends." + +So Annie kissed them all round, and went with him to pass a few months. +She had completed her prizes, and was now waiting to hear of their +reception. She had also contributed to the literary publications of the +city, and received a large share of flattery and applause; and, though +writing under a fictitious signature, her identity was well known in +private circles. Sumpter's villany and disgraceful end had effectually +destroyed his tale of her duplicity and artifice, and the highest +classes sought her friendship and society. The memory of former trial +and suffering stole over her sometimes, as she mingled again 'mid the +scenes of its enacting; but she was too wise and good to allow it to +rankle, or stir bitter feelings in her bosom. Let the past be forgotten +in the felicity of the present. Heaven had visited devouring vengeance +on the guilty ones. Let her bow in silence and adore! + +It was evening. Annie sat on a low ottoman at the side of the infirm, +good-natured old Dr. Prague. A bright gas-light sparkled through a +wrought-glass shade above them, and a silver salver, containing some +golden oranges and pearl-handled knives, stood on a walnut stand near +by. A servant entered, bearing a package of papers. + +"Here they are, dear uncle!" exclaimed Annie, springing forward to +receive them from the waiter's hand. "Now our evening's amusement can +commence;" and she passed him the dish of fruit, twirled the light a +little higher, and, drawing a stool close to his side, said, "Now what +shall I read first? The price of stocks, the list of deaths----" + +"No, little babbler," said he, patting her curls playfully; "you know +what comes first of all. 'Woodland Winnie,' of course." + +"Woodland Winnie is a silly little thing," remarked Annie. + +"I'll be my own judge as to that, Miss Annie; please to read on." + +"O, here is something from 'Alastor!'" she said, turning over the pages +of a new eastern magazine. "I do so love his writings; please let me +read this first, uncle. Do you know his real name?" + +"No; but I sometimes fancy it may be my old ward, Frank Sheldon, as he +has always had a turn for writing, and is one of the editors of this +periodical." + +"One of the editors of this magazine!" repeated Annie, in a quick, +excited tone; "I never knew that before." + +"Why, I thought I told you last fall, at Parson Grey's, in some of our +talks about former days." + +"No; you said he was employed in some printing establishment at the +east, that was all." + +"Well, I intended to have mentioned the rest; but what makes you look so +earnest and rosy, Annie?" + +"O, nothing!" she answered; "I was only thinking." + +"Frank has written to me, recently, a letter of sympathy and condolence, +and says he will visit the west this summer," the old man continued, +paring an orange. "I was going to make him my sole heir, but now I've +found you, I believe I shall curtail him and take you in for a share." + +"O, you had better not!" she exclaimed quickly. + +"And why better not, child?" + +"Because he is more deserving your generosity than I." + +"More deserving? No, indeed, Annie. But see how nicely I have peeled +this orange for you," passing it to her. + +"For me, uncle! You had better eat it yourself." + +"Why, what ails the girl? She won't even accept an orange from my hand." + +"Yes I will, uncle; but after you had prepared it so nicely, I thought +you ought to enjoy it yourself," she answered, accepting the luscious +fruit. He gazed on her affectionately while she ate the juicy slices, +with grateful relish, and when she had finished, said, "Now will Annie +read to me awhile?" + +"With the greatest pleasure, uncle," she answered, returning to the +package of books, from which she read till he was satisfied. + +"Your voice reminds me of those wild, bright birds I used to hear +singing in that old wilderness of Scraggiewood, when I called on a quiet +evening at that rocky cottage where you were nursed into being; a spot +fit to adorn a fairy tale. No wonder you are such a pure-souled, +imaginative creature, reared in that pristine solitude of nature. Now +you may retire, darling, and don't fail to be down in the morning to +pour the old man's coffee, because it is never so sweet as when coming +from Annie's little hands." Thus speaking, he bestowed a fatherly kiss +upon her soft cheek, and she glided away to her own apartment. A long +time on her downy couch she lay gazing on the moonbeams that glinted +over the rich flowers of the Persian carpet, while crowding thoughts and +fancies thronged upon her brain. Most prominent were those of Sheldon, +and his connection with the magazine for which she had written her +prizes. Amid wonderings and fancyings she fell asleep, to follow them up +in dreams, with every variation of hue and coloring. She was roaming +through the gravelled avenues of an extensive flower-garden, when a +rainbow of surpassing brilliancy spanned a circle in the air above her, +and wherever she turned her steps, it followed, hovering just above her +head; and the delicate colors seemed to strike a warm, heart-thrilling +joy down to the inmost recesses of her soul. She woke, with a delicious +sense of happiness, to find the morning sun throwing his golden beams +into her apartment. + + + + + CHAPTER XXI. + + "And I did love thee, when so oft we met + In the sweet evenings of that summer-time, + Whose pleasant memory lingers with me yet, + As the remembrance of a better clime + Might haunt a fallen angel. And O, thou-- + Thou who didst turn away and seek to bind + Thy heart from breaking--thou hast felt e'er now + A heart like thine o'ermastereth the mind; + Affection's power is stronger than thy will. + Ah, thou didst love me, and thou lovst me still!" + + +Annie's foot was on the stairs to descend to the drawing-room, on the +following evening, when she heard the old doctor's voice in the hall, +exclaiming, in tones of loud, hearty welcome, + +"Why, bless my eyes! Frank Sheldon, my boy, do I behold you at last? And +to come upon me in this unexpected manner! I've a mind to throw this +orange at your head." + +"Do so, sir, if you choose; but first hear my apology for this +unceremonious surprise. Business brought me----" + +"I won't hear a word about an apology," interrupted the doctor, +bestowing a hearty slap on his young friend's shoulder. "Come in, boy, +come in;" and the doors of the drawing-room opened and closed after +them. + +Annie ran back to her apartment in a flutter of emotion. "Sheldon there! +and he came from _that office_! Business brought him,--what would come +of it all?" She dared not hope or anticipate. She dared not think at +all; and, throwing her graceful form on a sofa, she commenced tearing +some water-color paintings she had lately been executing, into strips, +and twisting them into gas-lighters. + +Meantime Sheldon was snugly bestowed in a cushioned seat beside his good +friend, the doctor, who was plying him with a thousand questions +concerning his affairs, prospects, etc. After he had become satisfied on +these points, he recollected Sheldon had mentioned some business as the +cause of his sudden visit. + +"What was it you said about business bringing you so unexpectedly?" he +inquired. "So, I would not have enjoyed this pleasure had inclination +alone biased your feelings!" + +"You wrong me, sir," returned Sheldon, "by such an insinuation. I would +have visited you in the summer, in any event. I merely intended to say +business hurried my arrival. Our magazine, several months ago, issued a +set of prizes for the best poem and tale. The articles have been +received, and I commissioned to award the authoress, who, it appears, is +a resident of your city." + +"Indeed!" said the doctor. "Then we've a literary genius among us. What +is her name?" + +"She writes under a _nomme de plume_." + +"And what is that?" + +"Woodland Winnie." + +The good doctor sprang to his feet with such remarkable quickness as to +overturn the tray of oranges on the stand beside him, and they went +rolling over the carpet in all directions, while he clapped his hands +and roared again and again with convulsing laughter. Sheldon was +dumb-founded. + +"Good!" exclaimed the doctor, in a tone of gleeful chuckling. "Ha, ha, +ha! I declare I shall die a laughing. So cunning, the witch,--never to +tell me!" + +"Do you know the lady?" asked Sheldon in amaze, gazing on his friend's +extravagant demonstrations of mirth and joy. + +"Better and better!" roared the doctor. "Do I know her? Yes; she has +been an inmate of my mansion for the last _six_ months. Why, boy, she is +an angel;--as gifted, as beautiful, and as good as all the beauty and +genius put together. She has warmed my old heart and filled my house +with sunshine." + +"You will do me a great favor to introduce your humble servant to this +paragon of excellence." + +"Exactly! I'll do it all in good time; but take another orange, man!" he +said, extending the empty tray to Sheldon. "Zounds! where are they +gone?" he exclaimed, perceiving the dish to be vacant. "Have I eaten +them all?" + +Sheldon could not forbear laughing now, as he informed the doctor of his +accident, which called forth another burst of merriment. + +"Well, you want to see this lady?" he said, when it had subsided. "I'll +bring her to you in a jiffy;" and the gleeful doctor departed on his +errand. + +Sheldon paced the floor uneasily during his absence; but he was not kept +long in waiting. He soon heard steps descending the stairs and, whirling +a chair so as to give him but a side view of the entrance, sat down to +await their coming. The doors slid open, and he became aware of a light, +graceful figure, in a dark, crimson robe, leaning on the doctor's arm, +and approaching with fairy-like steps. The setting sun was throwing a +flood of radiance through the heavy folds of purple damask, and filling +the apartment with soft, dreamy light as they paused before him. + +"I have the pleasure of presenting to you 'Woodland Winnie,' Mr. +Sheldon," said the doctor. + +Sheldon raised his dark eyes slowly to the lady's face, and there, in +the genial light of that mild spring evening, stood Annie Evalyn. He +started as if an electric shock had shot through his frame. She trembled +and blushed, and the old doctor roared and shook with laughter at +Sheldon's speechless surprise; but the latter soon recovered himself and +greeted Annie with respectful cordiality, offering an apology for his +surprise, by saying he was not prepared to behold a former acquaintance +in the fair authoress. She returned his salutations with grace and ease, +while the doctor continued to laugh immoderately. So pleased was the old +gentleman with the part he had enacted in the scene, that he actually +consumed twelve oranges, and despatched a servant for a fresh supply. +Sheldon could not avoid stealing a glance at Annie as she sat on the +sofa before him. The dark chestnut curls were lifted away from the +expanding temples, and the delicate marble complexion, relieved by a +just perceptible tinge of rose on either cheek; while the beautifully +imaginative expression of the full blue eye, the curved lip and nostril +speaking the free, dauntless spirit, and the exquisite contour of the +light, graceful figure, yet somewhat taller and thinner than when he had +last seen her, all conspired to assure him it was no timid, shrinking +girl he beheld, but the lofty, talented, accomplished woman. Back came +the old love and admiration ten-fold stronger than ever. The doctor went +out to look after his oranges. There was a silence. It was growing +oppressive. He rose and approached the sofa. + +"I have erred, Annie," he said, in a low, mellow tone, fraught with deep +sorrow and contrition. + +"We are human, Frank," she answered, very softly. + +It was not the words, but the tone, the manner, that convinced him he +was forgiven. He sat down beside her, and there, in the deepening +twilight of that spring evening, what a holy happiness was rising over +the ruins of wickedness and crime! Who shall say how much holier, purer, +and more elevated for the trying ordeal to which it had been subjected? + + + + + CHAPTER XXII. + + "To all and each a fair good-night, + And rosy dreams and slumbers bright." + + +We are winding to a close. In the delicious coolness of a summer +evening, Aunt Patty sat upon her lowly stile, her head drooped pensively +on her withered hand, as if absorbed in deep meditation. The sound of +approaching footsteps aroused her, and directly a light form was at her +side, while a soft voice whispered in her ear: "You are thinking of one +from whom I bring tidings." + +It was Netta Wild, accompanied by her husband, who carried a small +package in his hand. + +"Ay, yes! true, Netta, I was thinking of Annie," said the old woman, +rising, and beckoning them to enter, while she bustled about and lighted +a candle. "So you have brought me news of her?" she continued. "I always +know when I'm going to hear from hinny, for I'm thinking and dreaming +about her all the time for three or four days before the tidings come." + +"You should have had bright visions of late, Aunt Patty, if they are to +tally with the truth," said Netta. "Annie has won the prizes." + +"Has she? Do tell!" exclaimed the old woman, her face glowing with +pleasure. + +"Yes, and here are the magazines containing the articles," answered +Netta, untying the package; "but this is the smallest part of her good +fortune; there's better news yet to be imparted, Aunt Patty. Sit down +here close beside me while I read this letter,--it is for both of us, +she says." + +Aunt Patty hitched her chair close up, remarking, as she did so, that +"the best news she could hear of hinny was, that she was coming back to +her old aunty." + +"Well, she is coming back," said Netta, "but not alone; in brief; she is +married, Aunt Patty." + +"O dear! O dear!" groaned the old lady in agony; "I have lost her +forever, my darling, darling Annie!" + +"No you haven't," said Netta; "for she says it was in the bargain that +she should never go from her dear old aunty while she lived, but always +be near to cheer and console her declining years." + +"O, the hinny love!" said Aunt Patty, brightening at these words. + +"And she describes her meeting with Sheldon (for he is the bridegroom); +of his being one of the editors of the magazine for which her prizes +were written; of his surprise at finding to whom he was awarding them, +and the explanation, and awakening of the old love, which quickly +followed." + +"We are married, Netta," she writes, "and are all bound eastward, as +soon as Dr. Prague can close up his affairs in this city, as he proposes +to accompany us, and spend the remainder of his days near your kind +father. He says he has no ties to bind him to the western country. You +will take this package, containing my prizes, to aunty, and read this +letter to her. Tell her she must use the note enclosed to buy her a +smart new dress, and get you to make her a high-crowned cap with an +extra pinch in the border, in which to receive her Annie's husband." + +The old woman laughed and cried by turns, and said, "'Twas not much use +to rig up such an old, withered thing as she was; but then she would do +all as hinny wished." + +George and Netta stopped awhile to chat upon the expected arrival. Netta +said, "The young couple could live in the beautiful stone mansion George +had just completed, and which was now wanting a family. It was built in +Gothic style, and most romantically situated, only a little distance +from the Parsonage, in a delightful grove of maples and elms. She had +been wondering who would occupy it, but never dreamed it might be Annie +and her noble husband." + +Thus they talked and planned; Aunt Patty all the while half wild with +excitement and expectation. At length they took leave, Netta promising +to come next day, and assist in making the new dress and smart cap. + + * * * + +Onward they came, on the wings of the flying steam-steed. Onward they +came, a happy trio; the good old doctor, boisterous in his glee and +satisfaction, looking first on Annie, then on Sheldon, and bursting +again and again into peals of exuberant laughter; so wonderfully pleased +was he with the success of his first attempt at match-making; for he +appropriated to himself the whole glory of cementing the union between +his two favorites. The only thing that caused anxiety or solicitude +during their journey was a fear lest the good old gentleman, in his wild +abandonment of joy, should forget himself, and eat so many oranges as to +endanger his precious existence. But, happily, their fears proved +imaginary. No such catastrophe occurred to mar their felicity, and the +little party safely reached the hospitable mansion of Parson Grey, and +were received with every demonstration of joy and welcome by the +expectant inmates. Aunt Rachel was in her highest cap, and soon +commenced preparations for the bridal supper, on which she had expended +her utmost, and expected to derive much commendation therefrom; but now, +Annie, little whimsie! overturned all her hopes at once. She had set her +heart on eating her bridal supper with Aunt Patty at the rock cottage in +Scraggiewood, and Sheldon declared it _his_ wish too. + +Parson Grey was of opinion the young couple should be left to act their +own pleasure in the matter, and all finally coincided; Aunt Rachel with +some disappointed looks, that Aunt Patty's oaten cakes should gain the +preference to her rich, frosted loaves; but she reflected that her +sumptuous banquet could be displayed and partaken of some other day; and +so she smoothed her brow and joined the rest in wishing Frank and Annie +a pleasant walk to Scraggiewood. + +As evening closed in, the happy couple, arm in arm, and unattended, took +their way over the rough forest path. Annie had so much to tell of her +early years passed there, and he was so intent on listening, that they +were close upon the cottage, ere they seemed to have passed over one +half the distance. + +"What a wild, weird spot!" he exclaimed. "No wonder you have such +glorious fancies, love." + +Annie motioned him to be silent; she had caught a glimpse of her aunt +sitting in the porch. + +"Come quick," she said, and in a moment they stood before the startled +old lady. Annie flung her arm over her neck and said: "Here's Annie and +her husband come to Scraggiewood to take their bridal supper with their +dear aunty." + +The old lady returned her darling's embrace warmly, but looked rather +abashed and disconcerted at beholding so fine a gentleman; but when he +advanced and shook her heartily by the hand, expressing in eloquent +words his gratitude to her for rearing so bright a flower to bless his +life, she gradually regained her composure; and with the young couple +roaming round the hut, out under the trees, and away into the woods in +the clear moonlight to search up Crummie, for Annie said, "Frank must +become acquainted with all her friends,"--the joyful dame set about +preparing a repast. She managed to get on her new gown and cap while +they were out, for their sudden arrival had surprised her in her +homespun garb. Annie noticed the change soon as they were seated at the +table, and, though Aunt Patty thought she needn't, remarked upon it at +once. + +"When did you find time to make that fine toilet, aunty?" she asked in a +roguish tone. + +But Aunt Patty turned the point well. "Why, dear, seeing you were so +particular in your letter that I should spruce up to receive you and +your husband, I thought I could do no less than respect your wishes." + +"Ha! ha!" laughed Sheldon; "you are well answered for your pleasantry, +Annie." + +Thus they discussed their simple meal with mirth and good-humor. Aunt +Patty's batter cakes seemed to have received an extra fine touch, and +the cream and butter were such as a king might relish, Sheldon declared. + +When the meal was over they sat down on the stile, Aunt Patty, at +Annie's request, drawing her chair close beside them. Then they talked, +and told her how much they anticipated living in the great mansion so +near to Parson Grey; and they would come every week to see her; and a +hundred other fine plans Annie formed, laying her head all the while on +her husband's arm, as he twined wild flowers among her dark curls, and +laughed at her lively sallies. Aunt Patty declared 'twas a sight angels +might envy, their love and happiness. + +The moon rose high above the tall forest trees, casting a mild, holy +radiance over the scene. And thus we leave them;--and thus we +say--"Good-night to Scraggiewood!" + + + + + ALICE ORVILLE; + + OR, + + LIFE IN THE SOUTH AND WEST. + + + + + CHAPTER I. + + "Adown the lovely waters, + Behold the vessel glide, + While beauty's fairest daughters + Gaze on the laughing tide." + + "She sought no notice, therefore gained it all, + As thus she stood apart from all the throng + Of heartless ones that passed before her eyes." + + +The Mississippi--river of majestic beauties--with the green, delightful +shores, elegant plantations, and dense forests of tall cotton-wood and +dark, funereal cypress, overhung with the parasitical moss, gliding +panorama-like before the enraptured vision! How proudly the mighty +steam-boats cut the turbid water, bearing the wealth and merchandise of +those productive lands to the numerous towns and cities that adorn the +banks of the majestic river! + +It was a lovely night in early June, and the guards of that queenliest +of all queenly boats, the "Eclipse," were thronged with ladies and +gentlemen just risen from their evening banquet in the sumptuous +dining-saloon. They were passing Baton Rouge, and many an exclamation of +delight was uttered, not only in admiration of the lovely scenery around +them, but that they were so happily near the terminus of a journey, +which, despite the splendid appointments of the boat, was fraught with +danger, and occasioned more or less uneasiness and anxiety in the bosoms +of all the passengers. + +Apart from the crowd, leaning over the balustrade, her dark eyes riveted +on the lovely prospect passing before her vision, stood a young girl of +perhaps fifteen summers. Her form was slight, and a profusion of black, +wavy ringlets floated over her small shoulders, while in all her +movements was visible that singularly beautiful grace of motion, ever so +attractive, and which is noticed only in very finely-constituted +organizations. She stood apart from the hilarious groups around her, +evidently + + "In a shade of thoughts that were not their thoughts." + +Her simple grace and self-possession, and the indifference manifested to +the flattering attentions bestowed upon her by the gentlemen during the +voyage, had rendered her an object of peculiar interest with them, and +provoked no small amount of envy and invidious remark from the weaker +sex. + +"Look there," remarked a freckled-faced lady in blue and yellow, to a +counterpart in red and green; "see Miss Pink o' Propriety, as the +captain calls her, standing out there alone, to attract some gentleman's +notice." + +"Of course," returned miss red and green, sneeringly. "I hate that girl, +she puts on such airs. And travelling alone, in charge of the captain +and clerk, shows what she is plainly. There, look! The bait has +taken,--Mr. Gilbert is caught!" and the rainbow ladies joined in a loud +laugh, as a fine-looking gentleman approached the fair, abstracted girl, +and accosted her. + +"Always flying your crowd of admirers," said he, "and hiding in some sly +nook. Please tell me some of your pretty thoughts, as we glide past this +lovely scenery, Miss Orville." + +"The recital of my poor thoughts would not repay you for listening," +said the young lady, with a pleasant smile. + +"Now I may consider myself dismissed, I suppose," remarked the +gentleman; "but if you don't tolerate me, you'll have to some other of +my sex; for naught so charms us contradictory human bipeds as +indifference to our gracious attentions, and we always pay our most +assiduous court where it receives the smallest consideration." + +"Well, if you choose to remain and entertain me with your company--" +commenced the fair girl. + +"I can do so, but you prefer to be alone," interrupted the young man; +"is not that what you would say?" + +"As you have been pleased to give expression to my unexpressed thoughts, +I'll abide by your decision," she remarked quietly. + +The gentleman bade her good-evening, and walked away, looking somewhat +chagrined by his easy dismissal. On the fore-deck he found the clerk of +the boat. + +"I've just come from Miss Orville," he said, falling into step with the +latter. "You are a lucky fellow, Mr. Clerk, to have such a lovely being +entrusted to your care." + +"She is a sweet young lady, indeed," said the clerk. "I was never +trusted with a charge in which I felt more interest." + +"No wonder. Half the gentlemen on the boat are in love with her, and she +is so mercilessly indifferent to all their blandishments! Yet she is of +an age to love flattery and adulation." + +"She appears like one whose heart is preoeccupied," remarked the clerk. + +"But she is too young for that to be the case, I would suppose." + +"Love is restricted to no particular age." + +"She is from the north, too, and the maidens of those cold climes are +less susceptible to the influence of the tender passion than the +daughters of our sunny shores," pursued Gilbert. + +"Less susceptible it may be," answered the clerk, "but once enkindled, +the flame seldom flickers or grows dim. Northern hearts are slow to wake +and hard to change. I was raised in Yankee land, Gilbert, and should +know something of Yankee girls." + +"True, true; but where do you say this young lady is going?" + +"To New Orleans." + +"And do you know where she will stop in the city?" + +"At the residence of her uncle, Esq. Camford." + +"Possible? I know that family well." + +"Indeed," remarked the clerk; "then you may have an opportunity to +pursue your acquaintance with Miss Orville, in whom you seem to feel +more than ordinary interest." + +"Why, yes," said Gilbert, "I believe I'm in love with her at present; +but then I don't make so serious a matter of a heart affair as many do." + +Gilbert was a wealthy southern planter, of rather easy, dissolute +habits, yet possessed of some redeeming points. + +"With good luck we shall hail the Crescent City to-morrow," remarked the +clerk, at length, as he stood regarding the speed of the boat with +admiring gaze. + +"Say you so?" exclaimed Gilbert. "I must have a last game of euchre +to-night, then;" and he hurried into the saloon to make up a party. + +"Hilloa, Reams!" said he to a foppish-looking fellow, lying at length on +a rosewood sofa, intent on the pages of a yellow-covered volume which he +held above his perfumed head; "come, have done with 'Ten Thousand a +Year,' and let us have a last game of cards. We shall be in New Orleans +to-morrow, so here's our last chance on _la belle_ Eclipse." + +"O, give over your game!" yawned the indolent Reams. "I'm better +employed, as you see." + +"No!" returned Gilbert, "I'll not give over; if you won't play, I can +find enough that will. You are a cowardly chap, Reams; because you lost +a few picayunes last night, you are afraid to try your luck again. +Where's that young fellow, Morris?" + +"What, the handsome lad from old Tennessee?" said Reams, languidly +passing his taper fingers through his lavender-moistened locks; "he will +never hear of any cards save wedding ones tied with white satin, for he +has been for the last half hour on the guards in earnest conversation +with that pretty Miss Orville." + +"The deuce he has!" exclaimed Gilbert with a blank expression, as he +walked away with a hasty step, leaving Reams to adjust himself to his +book again. He soon collected a group of card-players and sat down to +his game; while young Wayland Morris and sweet Alice Orville promenaded +the hurricane deck, and admired the beautiful scenery through which they +were gliding, from the lofty pilot-house, conversing with the ease and +freedom of old acquaintances; for thus ever do kindred souls recognize +and flow into each other wherever they chance to meet in this fair world +of ours. + + + + + CHAPTER II. + + "My mistress hath most trembling nerves; + The buzz of a musquito doth alarm her so, + She straightway falleth into frightful fits." + + +It was the dinner hour at the splendid mansion of Esq. Camford, the +silver service duly laid on the marble dining-table, the heavy curtains +drooped before the broad, oriel windows, and an odor of orange flowers +pervading the apartment as the light breeze lifted their silken folds. +Colored servants, in snowy jackets and aprons, stood erect and prim in +their respective places, awaiting the entrance of their master's family +and guests. At length there was a bustle in the hall, and a loud, burly +voice heard exclaiming, + +"Here, Thisbe, you black wench, run and tell your mistress to come into +the drawing-room in all haste. Here's an arrival; her niece, Miss +Orville, just in on the Eclipse. I was down on the levee, to see to the +consignment of my freight, and run afoul of her. Run, you nigger, and +tell her to come here quick." + +"Yes, massa," and off patted the woman to impart the summons, while +Alice stood indeterminate on her uncle's threshold. + +The servant plodded up a long pair of stairs, and tapped thrice at the +door of an apartment, e'er she was bid in a peevish voice to "come along +in, and not stand there foolin'." The woman entered timidly. + +"What do you want with me?" snarled the fine lady from the depths of a +cushioned chair, her white fingers playing with a richly-wrought Spanish +fan. + +"Massa says come down in the drawin'-room to see a nice young lady, Miss +Orful, or some sich name, what's just come on the 'Clipse, that signed +away all massa's freight," said the woman with a profound courtesy. + +"What gibberish is this?" said the lady, in fretful humor; "go and tell +your master to come here this moment. I declare, my nerves are all +a-tremble, and my life is worried out of me by these stupid niggers. Get +out of my sight, and do my bidding!" + +The servant disappeared instanter through the door. + +"Where is your mistress?" bawled Esq. Camford, when she reaeppeared in +the hall. + +"She says you must come to her this minute, for she is e'en-amost +nervousy to death," answered poor Thisbe, in a shaking voice. + +"Come to her? Thunder and Mars! didn't you tell her her niece was here +waiting a welcome?" + +"Yes, massa. I tell her there was a nice young lady here, what come on +de 'Clipse." + +"O, Lord! these fidgety women!" exclaimed Esq. Camford, impatiently. "I +hope you are not one of the sort, are you, Miss Orville? But come into +the parlor here, while I go up and rouse your aunt." + +"I hope, if she is sick, you will not disturb her on my account," said +Alice, somewhat alarmed at the commotion her arrival had occasioned. + +"Thunder! she is not sick, I'll wager; that is, no sicker than she deems +it necessary to be to produce an effect. I'm anxious you should behold +your cousins,--four in all; three youngest at school. They'll be home at +dinner, and it is already past the usual hour. Thunder! is dinner ready, +Thisbe?" + +"Yes, massa, and a waitin' mighty long time too." + +"Well, as I was saying, you must see your cousins, Jack, Josephine and +Susette. Our oldest daughter is over to Mobile for a few weeks. Pheny is +about your age, and you'll be great friends, no doubt; that is, if you +can romp and flop about pretty smart; but I must go for your aunt." + +Here an exclamation of "Mercy, mercy!" called the esquire's attention, +and he beheld his amiable consort sinking aghast, with uplifted hands on +a sofa in the hall. "Law, Nabby, what's the matter now?" said he, going +toward her leisurely enough, as though he were accustomed to such +scenes. + +"O, Adolphus Camford! what wench is that you have been sitting beside on +my embroidered ottoman? Answer me quick, for the love of Heaven! I will +not say for the love you bear me, as it is evident by your conduct that +you have ceased to regard me with a spice of affection," exclaimed the +fair lady, in a tone of trembling excitement. + +"Good, now, Nabby, good! A scene enacted on the arrival of our little +up-country cousin, Ally Orville;" and the esquire roared with laughter. +Alice heard all, and wondered what she had come among. + +The lady, nothing appeased by this explanation, as soon as she had taken +breath, burst forth again. "And you dared take the girl, in her dirty, +disordered travelling garb, into the drawing-room! Adolphus Camford, I'm +horrified beyond expression! Here, Thisbe, run and bundle the thing off +to her room before any one sees her. And to come just at our fashionable +dinner-hour too!" + +"Fuss and feathers, is that the child's fault? She came when the boat +did, of course. I was down there after my freight, and found her; she +seemed a mighty favorite with all on board, I assure you, and a handsome +young fellow rode up in the carriage with us, to mark her residence, +that he might call on her." + +"Yes, and our house will be overrun by hoosiers, and all sorts of +gawkins, no doubt. But take this girl out of sight, Thisbe. You can +carry some dinner to her room if she wishes any." + +"Thunder and Mars! She is your own brother's child; ain't you going to +let her come to the table with the family?" + +"Perhaps so, at a proper time. When I have seen her, and considered +whether she is a suitable personage for my jewel daughters to have for a +companion." + +"Why, didn't she come here more by your invitation than mine? for she +was well enough off at home, but, because she was the only child of your +deceased brother, you wanted to do something for her, and so sent for +her to come here, and finish her education at your expense, where she +could receive more fashionable polish than in a country town, away up in +Ohio; and as to her looks, just step into the parlor and see for +yourself." + +"O, where is she?" he exclaimed, finding the room vacant in which Alice +had been seated a few moments before. + +"I sent Thisbe to take her off," replied Mrs. Camford; "here are the +children; my brilliant son, my jewel daughters. I declare my nerves are +so shaken I feel quite incapacitated to preside at the dinner-table." + +"Pshaw, Nabby," said the blunt husband, "come along. I'll risk you to +despatch your usual quantity of lobster salad and roasted steak." + +"Adolphus, you shock me," faltered the delicate little lady, of a good +two hundred pounds' weight, as she hung to her lord's stalwart arm and +entered the dining saloon. + +"My darling children, assume your seats at table. Billy and Cato, unfold +their napkins. Adolphus, you see we have chops for dinner." + +Delivering herself of this flowery speech, the lady sank exhausted into +the high-backed chair that was held in readiness by the officious +waiter, and was shoved up to her proper place, the head of her sumptuous +table. + +The meal proceeded in silence, and all, even the delicate lady, did +ample justice to the chops, the entrees, and nicely-prepared side +dishes, as well as to the elegant dessert that followed in course. + + + + + CHAPTER III. + + "She wound around her fingers + Her locks of jetty hair; + And brought them into graceful curl + About her forehead fair." + + +Alice remained closeted in her little room, eating but a morsel of the +dinner brought her by Thisbe, till night-fall, when the woman again +appeared, and said, + +"Mistress says, if Miss Alice has made herself presentable, she can +attend her in the family sitting-room in half an hour." + +Alice bowed to this message, and said she would be pleased to meet her +aunt and cousins at the time specified. The woman paused a moment, and +then asked timidly, + +"Would not Miss Alice like a waitin'-maid sent to 'sist her in +dressin'?" + +"No, thank you," returned Alice, smiling. "I am accustomed to wait on +myself." + +The woman opened wide her shiny eyes, and exclaiming, "Massy! who ever +heard the like?" retired with a courtesy. + +Alice laughed quite heartily after she was gone. "The idea of a black +girl to help me put on a plain muslin frock, and twist my ringlets into +a little smoother curl!" said she. "I could array myself to meet a queen +in ten minutes." + +Thus speaking, she took from her trunk a snowy India muslin frock. It +fastened low over her finely-formed shoulders, and a chain of red coral +round her neck, with bracelets of the same material on her delicate +wrists, completed her toilet. With her own rare grace of motion, she +glided down the hall stairs, and into the presence of her aunt, who rose +from the soft-cushioned chair in which she had been reclining, with an +expression half terror, half anger, distorting her features. + +"Mercy, mercy! Another trial to my weak nerves!" she exclaimed. "Thisbe, +my nerve-reviver instantly!" + +The servant flew from the room, and returned with a small, silver-headed +vial, which the lady applied to her nostrils, and soon grew calm. + +Alice stood all the while dismayed at the confusion her sudden entrance +had occasioned, and the three cousins, perched on cushioned stools, +gazed on her with curious eyes. The aunt at length got sufficiently +revived to speak. + +"Now, Miss Orville, my long-since-departed brother's only child, advance +to embrace your affectionate aunt!" + +Alice came forward with a gentle, inimitable grace, and, extending her +hand, said, + +"How do you do, aunt? I am sorry to have made you so ill." + +"That is right, Miss Orville! you should be so. My nerves are delicate; +the least disturbance sets them all a tremble, and no one understands my +nerves; no one appreciates my nerves. Now I will present you to your +cousins. I call my daughters my three jewels. The eldest, and belle and +beauty, as we call her, is not at home, being in the city of Mobile at +present. Her name is Isadora Gabriella Celestina Camford. You will +behold her in due time, I trust. My second child is a son. I call him my +brilliant among my jewels. Daniel Henry Thomas Lewis John Camford come +forward to greet Miss Alice Orville." + +The lad thus called on, rose, stretched himself, and coming up to Alice +said, "How d'ye do, cous.?" + +The young girl received his extended hand kindly, and, after gazing for +the space of a full minute straight in her face, he resumed his seat. + +"Very well done, my brilliant son!" said the mother. "Next in order +comes my second jewel. Now Dulcinea Ophelia Ambrosia Josephine, my +adored remembrance of Don Quixote, Shakspeare, the Naiads, and the +mighty Napoleon, advance to greet your cousin!" + +And this living remembrance of the immortal dead sprang from her stool, +and, running to Alice, threw both arms round her neck, and, kissing her +on either cheek, exclaimed, "O, Cousin Alice! I'm glad you are come, for +now I shall have some one good-natured enough to talk to and go to +school with every day; for, by your pretty, angel-face, I know you are a +sweet-tempered thing." + +During this volubly-uttered harangue, the mother was making helpless +gestures to Thisbe for the nerve-reviver; but the graceless wench never +heeded one of them, so intently was she gazing with distended eyes and +gaping mouth on Miss Pheny's somewhat boisterous, but really +warm-hearted greeting of her Cousin Alice. Pheny was a universal +favorite among the servants, "for that she was a smilin', good-natured +young lady, and not a bit nervousy," as they declared. + +At length poor Mrs. Camford uttered a faint cry, which called Thisbe's +attention back to the spot from whence it never should have +strayed,--her mistress' cushioned chair,--and she rushed in a sort of +frenzy for the nerve-reviver, and applied it to the trembling lady's +nostrils; whereupon that delicately-constituted specimen of the genus +feminine uttered a stentorian shriek and flounced about the room like an +irate porcupine, greatly to the terror of Alice, who had never witnessed +such a scene before. But neither the brilliant son nor jewel daughters +seemed in the least alarmed, and in a few moments the mother regained +possession of her chair and senses, when her first act of sanity was to +hurl the bottle Thisbe had applied to her nostrils at the poor woman's +head with such force, that, had she not dodged the missile, it must have +inflicted a severe contusion. + +"There, you blundering black brute!" she exclaimed, "see if you'll bring +your master's hartshorn headache-dispenser again, when I send for my +nerve-reviver. The idea of a delicate woman like me having a bottle of +hartshorn bobbed under her nose! The wonder is I am not dead; yes, dead +by your hand, you brutal black nigger! But where was I in my +presentation? O, I recollect! That mad-cap girl, my second jewel, so +horrified me. I dare not yet refer to it lest my nerves become spasmodic +again. Pray excuse her, Miss Orville, and I will proceed to my youngest, +my infant-jewel! Eldora Adelaide Maria Suzette, greet your cousin, love, +as you ought." + +The child arose, made a stiff bend of her shoulders, and said, "I hope +to see you well, Miss Alice Orville." + +Alice returned her salute with a graceful courtesy, and all resumed +their seats. + +"Now," said Mrs. Camford, "this dreaded ceremony of presentation is +over, I hope we may get on well together. I'm desirous, Miss Orville, +that you should commence tuition at the seminary immediately. I shall +have no pains spared to afford you a fashionable education. As my +deceased brother's only child, I would have this much done at my own +expense. I always told Ernest, though he married a poor girl from the +north, and went off there to live with her, much against the wishes of +our parents, that I would never see a child of his suffer." + +"I have never suffered, madam!" said Alice, quickly. + +"For food and clothes I suppose not, Miss Orville," said Mrs. Camford, +loftily; "but my nerves are all shattered by this long confab, and I +will now retire, leaving you young people to cultivate each other's +acquaintance. Thisbe, carry me to my private apartment!" + +And Thisbe lifted her delicate mistress in her arms, and tugged her from +the room; an operation that reminded one, not of a "mountain laboring to +bring forth a mouse," but of a mouse laboring to bring forth a mountain. + +Days and weeks past by, and Alice was not so unhappy as she feared she +would be from her first experience. The "belle and beauty" returned from +the city of Mobile, under escort of Mr. Gilbert, who proved to be the +fair Celestina's _fiancee_. And Wayland Morris was a frequent visitor. +He often invited Alice to walk over different portions of the city. +There was an old ruinous French chateau to which they were wont to +direct their steps almost every Saturday evening when the weather was +pleasant; and to walk with Morris, gaze into his deep blue eyes, and +listen to his eloquent voice as he recited to her old tales and legends +of long ago from his well-stored, imaginative brain, was becoming more +than life to Alice. Perhaps she did not quite know it then. Whoever +knows the value of a blessing till it is withdrawn? Ah! and when we wake +some morning to find our hearts left desolate, how earnestly and +tearfully do we beg its return, with fervent promises never to drive it +from our bosoms, or scorn and slight it again! But does it ever come? +Alas, no! + + + + + CHAPTER IV. + + "O, know ye the land where the cypress and myrtle + Are emblems of deeds that are done in her clime, + Where the rage of the vulture, the love of the turtle, + Now melts into sorrow, now maddens to crime; + O, know ye the land of the cedar and vine, + Where the flowers ever blossom, the beams ever shine?" + + +Bright, balmy, beautiful southern land! Alas, that amid all your +luxuriance of beauty, where the flowering earth smiles up to the far +sparkling azure, and all nature seems chanting delicious harmonies, that +man should here, as elsewhere, make the one discordant note! Frail, +grovelling, passion-blinded man! The noblest imperfection of God! When +will he be elevated to the standard for which the Maker designed him? + +It was early spring, and the "floating palace," Eclipse, had made many +pleasant trips between New Orleans and Louisville, since Alice Orville +stood on her guards and feasted her beauty-loving eyes on the delightful +river scenery. + +The magnificent boat was now at the levee in New Orleans, advertised to +sail on the morrow. All was a scene of confusion in her vicinity. +Freight and baggage tumbled over the decks, passengers hurrying on +board, carts, hacks and omnibuses rudely jostling one against another, +runners loudly vociferating for their respective boats, etc. At length a +young man made his way through the crowd to the clerk's office, booked +his name, and engaged passage for a small town in Tennessee. The clerk +glanced at the name, and, instantly extending a hand to the passenger, +exclaimed; "Ah, Mr. Morris, happy to meet you! I look in so many +different faces, yours did not strike me as familiar at first. How has +been your health, and how have you prospered since I saw you last? Now I +recollect you were on the boat when we brought the pretty young lady +down; Miss Orville, I think was her name. Is she yet in the city?" + +"I believe she is," answered Morris, in a tone meant to be careless. + +"Surrounded by enamored admirers, no doubt," remarked the clerk. "So you +are bound up the river, Morris?" + +"Yes, to visit my widowed mother in Tennessee; she is failing in health, +and sent for me to come to her." + +"Indeed; 'tis like a dutiful son to obey the summons. Will you return to +New Orleans?" + +"Such is my intention at present." + +"Well, make yourself comfortable here, and the Eclipse will set you off +at your stopping-place in two or three days," said the gentlemanly +clerk, dismissing his friend, as others thronged around for +accommodations. + +The sun sank behind the "Father of Waters," as before a small gray +cottage on the eastern shore of the mighty river, a young, fair-haired +girl stood watching its departing light. At length a boat came in view +round a winding curve, and the little maiden leaped up, clapped her +hands gleefully, and disappeared within the cottage. Onward came the +graceful boat, lashing the waters into foam with its swift-revolving +wheels. It neared the shore, made a brief halt, and then glided on its +way again. A young man bounded up the embankment, and the fair girl met +him on the lowly sill with open arms. "Dear sister Winnie, how you are +grown!" exclaimed he; "but lead me to mother quickly." + +"I will, I will, brother Wayland. She has talked of you all day long, +and feared you would not arrive in time to see her." + +"Ah! is she failing so rapidly, then?" said the young man, while a gloom +stole over his features. + +"O, not so very fast!" answered the child; "and now you are come, I dare +say she will soon be well again." + +He patted her cheek, and hurriedly entered his mother's apartment. She +was lying on an humble pallet, wan and emaciated to so fearful a degree, +that the son could hardly recognize the parent from whom he had parted +eight months before. + +"O, mother!" said he in sorrowful, reproachful accents; "why had you not +sent for me sooner?" + +"I have wanted for nothing, my boy," answered the invalid, in a husky +voice. "Your letters spoke of success, and hopes for the future; how +could I be so selfish as to call you away from prospects so fair, to +tend on a sick-bed?" + +The son was silent, and after a few moments' pause, she resumed: "Winnie +did all that could be done for me. But for a few weeks I've failed +faster than usual, and I could not bear to die without beholding my +darling boy once more. Besides, what was to become of Winnie, left alone +and unprotected?" + +"Do not speak so hopelessly, dear mother," said Wayland, tears gathering +in his eyes; "I trust with the advancing spring your health may +improve." + +The poor woman shook her head. Winnie came, and, putting her little arms +round her mother's neck, commenced sobbing bitterly. + +"Winnie! Winnie! you worry mother doing so," said Wayland, drawing her +away; "come now with me; I want to see your pretty fawn and pet kids." + +"O, brother! the white spots are all gone from Fanny's neck and sides, +and the kiddies' horns are grown so long I'm half afraid of them; but +come, I'll find them for you;" and the child, diverted from her tears, +seized her brother's hand to lead him forth in search of her playmates. +They were soon found, and after admiring and caressing them a few +moments, Wayland left his sister to frolic with them on the lawn, and +returned to his mother's side. + +They had a long, confidential conversation, in which the son imparted to +his affectionate parent a brief history of the past eight months. She +listened with eager interest to the rehearsal. When he mentioned Alice +Orville, she regarded his countenance with a fixed, searching +expression, and a faint smile stole over her pale, sad face; but when he +breathed the name of Camford, she started convulsively, and demanded his +Christian name. + +"Adolphus," answered Wayland, in amaze at her emotion. "He is Miss +Orville's uncle, and the wealthiest merchant in New Orleans." + +"'Tis the same," she murmured; "you were too young, my son, when your +father died, to have any recollection of the events which preceded his +death; but you have heard from me that he was hurried out of the world +by temporal misfortunes too great for his delicate, sensitive +temperament to endure. The sudden descent from affluence to poverty bore +him to the grave. And I have told you, Wayland, that by the hand of one +man, all this woe and suffering was brought upon us." + +"And who was that man, dear mother?" asked the youth, in an agitated +voice. + +"Adolphus Camford," answered she, trembling as she spoke the fatal name. + +"Is it possible?" exclaimed Wayland, starting to his feet. "Then may the +son avenge the father!" + +"Stop, my boy," said his mother; "I intended this revelation but as a +caution for you against your father's destroyer. 'Vengeance is mine, I +will repay,' saith the Lord. Promise that you will remember this, +Wayland, or I cannot die in peace." + +"I promise, mother," said the young man, bowing at the bed-side, and +leaning his head tenderly on her bosom. + + + + + CHAPTER V. + + "If there is anything I hate on earth, + It is a ranting, tattling, prattling jade, + Who gossips all day long, and fattens on + Her neighbors' foibles, and at night lies down + To dream some ghostly tale, and rises soon + To bawl it through the town as good and true." + + +Hast ever attended a Ladies' Sewing Circle, reader, and witnessed the +benevolent proceedings of the matrons, spinsters, and young maidens, for +the poor, benighted heathen on the far-distant shores of Hindostan, or +the benighted millions who sit in the "region and shadow of death" on +the desert plains of Ethiopia? And while thou hast heard the lady +president plead so eloquently for those nations, who, groaning in their +self-forged chains, bow to the great Moloch of superstition and +idolatry, as to "draw tears of blood," as it were, from the eyes of her +rapt and devoted listeners, hast ever marked a pale, trembling child of +want totter to the door, and ask for the "crumbs that fall" from this +humane society's tea-table, and heard the answer, "Begone! this is a +benevolent association for the purpose of evangelizing the heathen, not +to feed lazy beggars at our own doors?" + +And has thy lips dared e'en to whisper, + + "O for the charity that begins at home!" + +Well, the "Ladies' Literary Benevolent Combination for Foreign Aid" was +duly congregated at Mrs. Jane Rockport's, Pleasant-street, in the town +of Bellevue, on the western shore of Lake Erie. It was a rainy day,--as +days for the meeting of sewing circles most always are; though why +Heaven should strive to thwart benevolence is a point upon which we will +not venture an opinion. + +About twenty of the most zealous in the course of philanthropy, who no +doubt felt the wrongs of the suffering heathen impelling them to brave +the wind and rain, had assembled in Mrs. Rockport's parlor, and, after +hearing a hymn composed for the occasion by the Misses Gaddies, and +performed by the same interesting young ladies, and an appropriate +prayer by the president, Mrs. Stebbins, the work designed for the +present meeting was laid upon the table, and the several members of the +little company selected articles upon which to display their +benevolence, and scattered off in groups of two and three to different +parts of the room, while a low, incessant hum of voices struck the ear +from all quarters. It appeared the devoted ladies were exerting their +tongues as well as fingers in the good cause. + +"Now, do you suppose it is true?" asked Miss Jerusha Sharpwell, at +length, in a raised voice, with horror and amazement depicted on her +sharp-featured face. + +"Why, Susan Simpson told me that Dilly Hootaway told her that little +Nanny Dutton told her, 'Pa had got a nice lamb shut up in a pen, and +they were going to have it killed for Christmas,'" said Mrs. Dorothy +Sykes, in reply to her companion's startled exclamation. + +"Enough said," returned Miss Jerusha, with a toss of her tall head; "now +such things ought not to pass unnoticed, I say." + +This was uttered in so loud a tone that the attention of all in the room +was roused, and several voices demanded what was the matter. + +"Matter enough," said Miss Sharpwell; "that thievish Oliver Dutton has +stolen a sheep from the widow Orville." + +"La! have you just heard of it, sister Sharpwell?" exclaimed Mrs. +Fleetwood; "I knew it a week ago." + +"You did, did you?" said Mrs. Sykes; "why, it was only stolen last +night." + +"Perhaps Mr. Dutton has stolen two sheep," suggested Mrs. Aidy. + +"No doubt, no doubt," put in Miss Jerusha, much excited. + +"Well, ladies," observed Mrs. Milder, "as I am perfectly sure, I may +safely affirm that Mr. Dutton has stolen no sheep from Mrs. Orville." + +"How do you know he has not?" demanded Sykes and Sharpwell in a breath. + +"Because Mrs. Orville has no sheep," returned Mrs. Milder, quietly. + +"Well, now, was there ever such a place as this is coming to be? No one +can believe a thing unless they see it with their own eyes," exclaimed +Mrs. Sykes, in an indignant tone. "I'm sure I heard Dutton had got a +lamb for Christmas; and how could the poor critter come by it unless he +stole it somewhere; and as Mrs. Orville lives alone, I thought likely he +would take advantage of that, and steal it from her, for I didn't know +but what she kept sheep." + +"Very natural, Mrs. Sykes, that you should thus suppose," chimed in Miss +Jerusha. "No one questions your honor or veracity. But what were you +saying, Miss Gaddie? I thought you were speaking of Mrs. Orville's +daughter that went off south a year or two ago." + +"I was merely remarking that Mrs. Orville received a letter from Alice +last week, and sis, who used to be acquainted with her, called to +inquire after her welfare." + +"Well, what did she hear?" asked Miss Sharpwell. + +"Not much, did you, sis?" asked the elder Miss Gaddie of her younger +sister. + +"No, I didn't _hear_ much, but I _see_ enough," answered that +interesting miss. + +"Lord bless us, child!" exclaimed Miss Jerusha. "What did you see?" + +"Why, Mrs. Orville was blubbering like a baby when I entered, but she +tried to hush up after a while." + +"Mercy to me!" exclaimed Mrs. Sykes; "her daughter must be dead or come +to some awful disgrace away off there." + +"No, she is not dead," said Miss Gaddie, "for her mother said she was +well, and spoke of returning home next spring or summer." + +"O, dear! these young girls sent off alone in the world most always come +to some harm," said Miss Sharpwell, with a rueful expression of +countenance. + +"True, true, sister Jerusha," returned Mrs. Sykes, "what should I think +of sending my Henrietta off so?" + +"Sure enough, sister Sykes," said Miss Sharpwell. "We ought not, +however, to forsake our friends in adversity. Let us call on Mrs. +Orville, and sympathize in her affliction." + +"With all my heart, sister Jerusha. I am a mother, and can appreciate a +mother's feelings over a beloved child's downfall and disgrace," said +Mrs. Sykes, with a distressful expression of pity distorting her +countenance. + +And thus in the mint of the Ladies' Benevolent Society was cast, coined +and made ready for current circulation, the tale of poor Alice Orville's +imaginary shame and ruin. Yet faster flew those Christian ladies' +Christian fingers for the poor heathen, while they thus discussed the +slang and gossip of the village. + +At length the president arose, and said the hour for adjournment had +arrived. She complimented the ladies on their prompt attendance and +enthusiastic devotion to the good cause. "Who can tell the results that +may follow from this little gathering of Christian sisters on this dark, +rainy evening?" she exclaimed. "What mind can conceive the mighty +influence these seemingly insignificant articles your ready tact and +skill have put together, may exert on the heathen world? Even this +scarlet pin-cushion may save some soul from death 'mid the spicy groves +of Ceylon's isle." [Tremendous sensation, as the lady president waved +the pin-ball to and fro.] "But language would fail me to enumerate the +benefits this holy organization of Christians is destined to bestow on +benighted Pagandom. We will now listen to a hymn from the sisters +Gaddies, and adjourn to Wednesday next, at 2 o'clock, P.M., at the house +of Mrs. Huldah Fleetfoot." + +The hymn was sung, and the "Ladies' Literary Benevolent Combination for +Foreign Aid" duly adjourned to the time and place aforementioned. + +We have seen that Miss Jerusha Sharpwell and Mrs. Dorothy Sykes had +agreed to call on Mrs. Orville, and condole with her on her daughter's +disgrace; but those benevolently-disposed ladies deemed it expedient to +call first at sundry places in the village and repeat the lamentable +tale, probably to increase the stock of sympathy; so Mrs. Orville heard +the sad story of her daughter's shame from several different sources, +ere these good ladies, their hearts overflowing with the "milk of human +kindness," came to sympathize in her affliction. + +She received them with her accustomed urbanity and politeness, while +they cast wondering glances toward each other; probably that they had +not found Mrs. Orville in hysterical tears. But Miss Sharpwell, nothing +daunted, and determined to sympathize, readily expressed her admiration +of Mrs. Orville's fortitude of mind, that she could support herself with +so much calmness, under so great an affliction. + +"I do not know as I quite understand you, Miss Sharpwell," remarked Mrs. +Orville, in a calm tone, and fixing her clear eyes steadily on her +visitor's face. "I have experienced no severe affliction of late. I have +lost no sheep, as I had none to lose." + +"La! then that was all a flyin' story about Dutton's stealing your +lamb," broke in Mrs. Sykes. "Well, I'm glad to find it so; but I wonder +where the poor critter _did_ get it?" + +"I can enlighten you on that point," said Mrs. Orville; "Mrs. Milder +presented him with it for a Christmas dinner." + +"_She_ did?" exclaimed Miss Sharpwell. "Why couldn't she have said +so at the sewing society, the other day, then, when we were talking +about it, and thus settled the matter in all our minds? I hate this sly, +underhanded work. But we must not forget our errand, sister Sykes." + +"By no means," observed the latter. "Dear Mrs. Orville, we are come to +sympathize with you in a far greater affliction than the loss of a sheep +would prove--the loss of a daughter's fair fame." + +"You grow more and more enigmatical," said Mrs. Orville, smiling; "my +daughter has lost neither her health nor fair fame, as you express it. I +received a letter from her last week. She was well, and purposes to +return home the coming summer." + +"Why, goodness, is it so?" exclaimed Sykes; "we heard as how you had +awful news of Alice, and were well-nigh distracted about her." + +"I heard a report to that effect," said Mrs. Orville; "but whence it +originated I cannot say. It has no foundation in truth." + +"Well, what an awful wicked place this is getting to be! I declare it +makes my blood run cold to think of it," said Miss Jerusha, with a pious +horror depicted on her countenance. + +"And religious prayer-meetings kept up, and a Christian sewing circle in +the place too," added Mrs. Sykes. "I declare wickedness is increasing to +a fearful extent. We must be going, sister Jerusha. I declare I can +hardly sit still, I feel so for the sinners of this village." + +"Mrs. Orville, I am glad the stories reported concerning your daughter +are false, for _your_ sake," said Miss Sharpwell, as the sympathetic +ladies rose to depart; but she added, in her most emphatic tone, "I +tremble for the sakes of those who put those stories in circulation. +Good-day, my friend." + + + + + CHAPTER VI. + + "I tell you I love him dearly, + And he loves me well I know; + It seems as if I could nearly + Eat him up, I love him so." + + +"Well, sis, how do you like New Orleans?" asked Wayland Morris of his +sister Winnie, as he entered her quiet little study-chamber one evening +after the toil of the day was over. + +"O, I like it well enough, Wayland," she answered; "that is, I like my +boarding-place here with Mrs. Pulsifer, I like my dear, kind teacher, +Aunt Debby, and I like my playmates." + +"And is there anything you do not like, my sister?" asked Wayland, +observing she hesitated. + +"Yes, two things." + +"What are they?" + +"First, I don't like to have you work so hard to support me in +idleness." + +"In idleness, Winnie?" + +"Yes, or what is just the same thing, I mean earning nothing to support +myself. I could learn some trade, and thus obtain money sufficient for +all my wants, and give you some, too, if you would but let me do it." + +"My brave little sis," said Wayland, drawing her to his bosom, "have I +not told you that when you have acquired an education, you can become a +teacher, which will surely prove an occupation more congenial to your +taste, and by it you can gain an ample competence for all immediate +necessities?" + +"But it will take a great deal of money to procure an education," said +Winnie, looking doubtfully in her brother's face. + +"Not a very great deal, my prudent little sis," laughed Wayland, "and I +can easily furnish you with the sum needful." + +"And, when I'm a teacher, will you let me repay all you have expended on +me?" + +"Yes, yes, if that will put your mind at rest." + +"Ah, but I fear it will be beyond my power to repay _all_ you are +expending on your foolish little sis! You are growing thin and pale, +brother, and you have none of the joyous spring and laughter with which +you used to chase my pretty fawns away up there on the green shores of +Tennessee." + +"I am older and graver now, Winnie; besides, I often think of our dear +mother, sleeping there in death's embrace, and of our being orphans in +the wide world." + +"O, it is very sad, brother!" said the young girl, bursting into tears. + +"Do not weep so bitterly," said Wayland, endeavoring to soothe her +grief; "you said there were two things you did not like. I have +dispensed with one; now tell me the other." + +"O, never mind that now!" said Winnie, quickly; "assist me in my Algebra +lesson, there's a good brother." + +"Yes, after you have told me what I have asked." + +"Well, it is a foolish thing, you will say. You know Jack Camford?" + +"Yes; do you?" inquired Wayland in surprise. + +"He comes to our school this term," said Winnie, demurely. + +"And he is the other thing you do not like, is he?" + +"Why, no, brother; he is not a thing, is he?" + +"Well, perhaps not; but what is it you do not like?" + +"Why, I don't like to have the girls tease me, and say he comes to our +school just to see me," said Winnie, averting her face. + +Wayland's brow darkened at these words, and he was some time silent. + +"Are you angry, brother?" asked Winnie at length. + +"No, Winnie, not angry, but pained. My sister, this young Camford is not +a fit person for you to associate with." + +"Why not?" exclaimed Winnie. + +Wayland gazed in her face, and felt it was time to speak. "Winnie, would +you have for a friend the son of a man who robbed your father of his +fortune and hurried him into the grave?" + +She was silent. "Adieu now, sister," continued Wayland, "I will call and +see you to-morrow evening," and with a tender kiss on the soft cheek, he +left her in her first young, girlish love-sorrow. Bitterly she charged +him with cold, unfeeling cruelty; for she intuitively perceived the +drift of those few words. "But was her poor Jack to suffer for his +father's errors? No; thrice no! and she longed to lay her head on his +bosom and tell him all her sorrows, for he was not stern and cruel, like +brother Wayland. No, he loved her dearly, as she loved him." + + * * * + +"Thunder and Mars! what's to pay now, I wonder?" exclaimed Esq. Camford, +rushing pell-mell into the dining room, where his family were assembled +at breakfast, and throwing his delicate wife into hysterics. + +"O, Thisbe! run for the nerve-reviver," shrieked Mrs. Camford. "O, +Adolphus! why will you not regard my tremulous nerves, and not affright +me thus? What desperate thing has happened? O, Adolphus! you'll be the +death of me." + +"I'll be the death of that cursed young vagabond, John Camford," blurted +forth the squire, in a tone of terrible rage. + +"O, my son, my brilliant among my jewels! how has he incurred your +displeasure?" faintly articulated Mrs. Camford. + +"Why, I saw the graceless scamp tugging a girl through the French market +this morning, filling her hands with bouquets and all sorts of +fol-de-rols. There is where the money goes he wheedles out of me every +week; but I'll fix the young rapscallion. Next thing, we shall have some +creole girl, or mulatto wench introduced to the family as Mrs. Camford, +junior." + +The squire fairly foamed at the mouth, with anger. His fair consort was +in frantic hysterics, beating the floor with her heels, and exclaiming, + +"O, mercy, mercy! my son, my Daniel, Henry, Thomas, Lewis, John! my +brilliant, among my jewels! O, spare him for the love of Heaven, my +husband, my adored Adolphus!" + +Thisbe was following her mistress and bobbing the nerve-reviver to her +nose, but it failed to produce the usual effect. All the servants in +attendance stood with their mouths agape, while the three jewel +daughters proceeded quietly with their breakfast, and Alice sat among +them, a silent spectator of the scene. And now, as if to cap the climax, +in walked the culprit, Mr. Jack Camford, in _propria persona_, looking +as unconcerned and innocent as if nothing had occurred to displace him +in his father's good graces. At sight of her brilliant son, Mrs. Camford +shrieked and fell prostrate on the floor, and Thisbe, in the moment of +excitement, seized the senseless form and carried it from the room with +as much ease as she would have borne a cotton-bale. No sooner had the +door closed on his delicate spouse, than Esq. Camford bellowed forth, +"Daniel Henry Thomas Lewis John Camford, you rascal, come and stand +before your father!" The son instantly did as commanded. Doffing his +"Kossuth," and passing one hand through the long locks of curling black +hair, he swept it away from his clear, smooth brow, and stood +confronting his wrathful parent with a calm, unembarrassed aspect. He +was certainly a handsome young fellow, and Winnie Morris was quite +excusable for loving him a little in her girlish heart. The father's +anger softened as he gazed on his fair-looking boy, and when he spoke, +his voice had lost all its former harshness. + +"Jack, my lad," he said, "why do you stand gazing about you thus? Come, +and sit down to your breakfast." + +"You bade me stand before you, father, therefore I did so," said the +son, now approaching the table and assuming a seat beside his cousin +Alice. + +There were a few moments of silence, during which all were occupied with +their meal. At length Esq. Camford inquired, casually enough, "Jack, +what young lady was that I saw you with in the French market this +morning?" + +Jack, at the moment helping Alice to a snipe, answered carelessly, +"Young lady? O, Miss Winnie Morris, sister of Wayland Morris, editor of +our Literary Gazette." + +Alice suddenly dropped her bird on the cloth, and Esq. Camford sprang +from the table, and, seizing his hat, bolted from the apartment, +overturning two servants in his way, and exclaiming at the top of his +voice, "Thunder and Mars! Thunder and Mars!" + +Jack burst into a hearty laugh as his father cleared the door, and said, +"Was there ever a theatre could equal our house for enacting scenes? +Why, Alice, where are you going?" he continued, observing her rise from +the table; "stay a moment; will you be disengaged when I come in to +dinner? I want a few moments' private conversation with you." + +"I shall be at your service, cousin," she answered, closing the door +behind her. + +"What have you to say to Alice?" inquired Miss Celestina, the "belle and +beauty," in a querulous tone; picking at a bunch of flowers that laid +beside Josephine's plate. + +"O, please don't spoil my flowers, sister!" said Miss Pheny; "they were +sent to me this morning by a particular friend." + +"Faugh! what particular friend have _you_ got, I wonder?" sneered the +beauty; "some foolish love affair afoot here, to rival Jack's, I +suppose. Ha, ha! what silly things children are! But come, bubby, tell +me what you want with Alice?" + +"That's my business," returned the youth proudly. + +"To talk about your sweetheart, no doubt, and solicit her sympathy in +your love troubles. You'll find father won't have you toting about with +this beggar girl, I can tell you!" said the fair Celestina, spitefully. + +"She is not a beggar," retorted Jack with flashing eyes, "but a far more +beautiful and accomplished lady than many who have had the best +advantages of fashionable society." + +"O, of course, she is all perfection in your eyes at present," returned +the beauty in an aggravating tone, as she rose to retire; "but this day +six months I wonder how she will appear to your fickle, capricious +gaze?" + +"If you were worth a retort, I'd make one," said Jack, with a glance of +angry contempt on his sister, as he took his cap and left the apartment. + + + + + CHAPTER VII. + + "Thy haunting influence, how it mocks + My efforts to forget! + The stamp love only seals but once + Upon my heart is set." + + +Winnie Morris was laying her pretty head on her kind teacher's shoulder, +and pleading, O, so eloquently, with her sweet lips and eyes! + +"Indeed, I want to go very much, dear Aunt Debby, and Jack will be so +disappointed if you say no. He sent me to plead, because he said nobody +could resist me. Will you not let me go this once, if I'll promise never +to ask again?" + +"The theatre is not a fit place for young girls," said the teacher, with +a serious mien; "by going there they obtain false ideas of life." + +"But I won't, Aunt Debby, I'm sure I won't, by going just once." + +The good-natured teacher patted the soft cheek of her winsome pleader, +and the gentle act seemed to convince the child that she was gaining her +point. + +"O, Debby, Debby!" she exclaimed, throwing her white arms round the good +woman's neck; "you will let me go with Jack to-night, I know." + +"For which do you most wish to go: to see the play, or to be with him?" +asked Debby, still delaying the wished-for permission. + +"O, to be with him!" answered Winnie; "and I could not be with him +unless I went out somewhere, for brother Wayland is cross at Jack; only +think of it--cross at my Jack! And he asks Mrs. Pulsifer whenever Jack +comes to see me, and then scolds; or not exactly that,--but says I ought +not to associate with a person he does not approve, and that Jack is +wild and unsteady, and won't love me long; but he doesn't know him as +well as I do, or he wouldn't say so, I'm sure;" and Winnie grew +eloquent, and her cheeks flushed vermilion red, while she spoke of her +girlish love. But Miss Deborah's face had assumed a less yielding +expression during her fair pupil's recital. + +"So it appears your brother is not pleased with young Mr. Camford," she +remarked, as Winnie ceased; "under the circumstances, you must apply to +him for permission to accompany Master Jack to the theatre." + +"O, dear! I wish I had not said a word," sobbed Winnie. "'Tis no use to +go to Wayland, for I know he would refuse my request; so I may as well +make up my mind to pass the evening alone in my room. I'm more sorry for +Jack, after all, than myself, he will be so sadly disappointed. +Good-night, Aunt Debby," and with dejected aspect the young girl put on +her little straw hat and left the school-room. + +The evening stole on, and Jack Camford was beside his cousin Alice, in +her quiet apartment. + +"I don't see why Wayland Morris should hate me so inveterately, as to +forbid his sister to receive any calls from me," remarked the youth, +bitterly. + +"How do you know he does so?" inquired Alice, without raising her eyes +from the German worsted pattern on which she was occupied. + +"Because Winnie told me so, to-night. I had invited her to attend the +theatre, but it appears she dared not ask her brother's permission, for +fear of a refusal," said Jack, in a troubled tone. "You are acquainted +with Mr. Morris, Alice?" + +"No," returned she, quickly. + +"Why, he calls on you." + +"He did call at the house once or twice, soon after my arrival here, I +believe." + +"Once or twice!" exclaimed Jack, in surprise; "why, he was here almost +every day for several months, and we all thought you were declared +lovers." + +"Hush, Jack! how you are running on!" said Alice, with a flushed +countenance. + +"Well, don't tell me you are not acquainted with young Morris, then," +returned Jack. + +"I have not seen him, as you are aware, for the last six months," +remarked Alice. + +"But you _could_ see him very easily." + +"So could you." + +"Ah, Alice! I thought you would do me so small a favor." + +"As what?" + +"See Mr. Morris, and ascertain why he opposes my addresses to his +sister." + +"Is he the only one who opposes you?" + +"You allude to my family; but not one of them should control me, in this +matter, if I could win her from her brother." + +"You are very young, Jack; wait a few years, and your feelings will +change." + +The boy looked on his cousin as she uttered these words with so much +apparent indifference, and exclaimed: + +"O, Alice! you have never loved, or you could not talk thus to me," and +hurriedly left the apartment. + +Alice heard him rush down the hall stairs and into the street. "Poor +Jack!" she sighed; "but what could I do for him? To place myself before +Wayland Morris, and plead my cousin's suit with his sister, when +probably the very cause of his objection to their acquaintance is that +the lover is a relation of mine; and it appears that by some +misapprehension I have as unwittingly as unfortunately incurred his +displeasure. What other reason can there be for the cessation of his +visits, but that he does not desire to see me?" + +Ay, what other indeed, Alice? If you would have Wayland's love, there +could not be a stronger proof that 'tis yours, than this apparent +neglect and forgetfulness. Love joys in mystery, + + "Shows most like hate e'en when 'tis most in love, + And when you think 'tis countless miles away, + Is lurking close at hand." + +So, be not too sad, Ally, dear, when the brave steamboat bears you up +the majestic Mississippi, and far onward over the beautiful Ohio, amid +her wild, enchanting scenery, and the dashing railroad cars at length +set you down on a quiet summer evening at your mother's rural threshold. +Try hard to say, "I have forgotten Wayland Morris;" but your heart will +rebel; and try harder to say, "I shall never behold his face again;" +still "hope will tell a flattering tale;" and try hardest of all to +exclaim, "I'll fly his presence forever." But yet, away down low in your +beating bosom, a little voice will love to tantalize and whisper--"Will +you, though?" + + + + + CHAPTER VIII. + + "Come, clear the stage and give us something new, + For we are tired to death with these old scenes." + + +Night after night, high up in the sky, the stars shone wildly bright, +but the heaven refused its grateful showers and the earth lay parched to +a cinder beneath the blazing sunbeams. The mighty Mississippi shrunk +within its banks to the size of a mere wayside rivulet, and the long +lines of boats lay lazily along the levees. No exchange of produce or +merchandise could be effected between the upper and lower regions of the +great Mississippi valley, and the consequence was universal depression +in trade and heavy failures. Esquire Camford went among the first in the +general crash, and his fair consort's nerves went also. The +nerve-reviver failed to produce the least soothing effect in this +dreadful emergency, and she sank into a bed-ridden ghost of hysteria, +with Thisbe for her constant attendant, to minister to her numerous +wants, and feed her with lobsters' claws and Graham crackers, which +constituted her sole food and nourishment. + +As for the "belle and beauty," she, on a day, married Mr. Gilbert, in +pearl-colored satin, and that gentleman chancing to overturn a +sherry-cobbler on the fair bride's robe, the delicate creature went into +a nervous paroxysm, which so alarmed and terrified the happy bridegroom, +that, when he recovered his senses, he found himself on the far, blue +ocean, with the adorable Celestina's marriage-portion, consisting of the +snug sum of fifty thousand dollars, wrapped up in a blue netting-purse +in his coat pocket. How the great bank-bills grinned at him, as if to +charge him with the wanton robbery and desertion! He gazed around in a +bewildered manner, and the first face that met his eye was that of his +brother-in-law, Jack Camford, who advanced with a woeful smile +distorting his fine features, and exclaimed, + +"Upon my word, you're a lucky dog, Gilbert!" + +"How so?" demanded the latter. + +"To have married my sister the day before father failed, and thus +secured a pretty fair sum of money; and now to have escaped a tedious +wife and got safely off with it in your pocket," said Jack, with a +theatrical flourish of manner. + +"But what does all this mean? Why are you here, and where is this ship +bound?" + +"Well, I'm here--hum--I don't know why, save that life was intolerable +at home after the smash-up, and Winnie Morris heard I was getting wild, +and turned a cold shoulder on me, I fancied. As to this craft, that +reels and tumbles about like a reef of drunkards, she is bound for +Australia; so I suppose, in due time, you and I will be landed on the +shores of the golden Ophir, if we don't get turned into Davy Jones' +locker by some mishap." + +"Australia!" exclaimed Gilbert, "what the deuce am I going there for; +and how came I in this place?" + +"All I know is, I found you here asleep when I came aboard, and here you +have been asleep for the last three days, wearing off the effects of +your wedding-feast, I suppose. I thought best not to disturb you, as at +sea one may as well be sleeping as waking." + +"But, Jack Camford! I cannot go to Australia," said Gilbert, still half +confounded. + +"How are you going to avoid it?" asked Jack, laughing. + +"True! but what will my bride say? Here I hold her fortune in my hand." + +"Exactly! Divide it with me, if you please, and we'll increase it +four-fold e'er a year in the golden land." + +"But I don't like the idea of going to Australia!" pursued Gilbert. + +"Neither do I, very well," answered Jack; "but when folks can't do as +they will, they must do as they can, I've heard say." + +Thus we leave our Australian adventurers and return to the land from +which they are so rapidly receding. We didn't know what else to do here +in the eighth chapter, reader, unless we capped the climax, cleared the +stage, and scattered the characters; for we were quite as tired of them +as you were, and wanted to get them off our hands in some way. + +A few people think "Effie Afton" can tell stories tolerably well. But +she can't, reader! We speak candidly, for we know "a heap" more about +her than you do. There may be those in the wide world who hug themselves +in the belief that she can tell _little_ fibs and _large_ fibs pretty +flippantly. Well, let them continue thus to believe, if they choose! We +shall not pause to say ay, yes, or nay; and we also entertain a private +opinion, now publicly expressed, that there are people within the +limited circle of our acquaintance who can not only give utterance to +_little_ and _large_ fibs, but make their whole lives and actions play +the lie to their thoughts and feelings. But as to "Effie's" telling long +magazine tales,--pshaw! she is the most unsystematic creature in the +world. She just humps down in a big rocking-chair, with one sort of +_foolscap_ in her _hand_, and another sort on her _head_, with an old +music-book to lay the sheets on, a lead-pencil for a pen, and thus +equipped, writes chapter one, and dashes _in medias res_ at once, +without an idea as to how, where, or when the story thus commenced is to +find its terminus or end. This is the way she does, reader; for we have +seen her time and again. Well, she scratches on "like mad" till her old +lead-pencil is "used up." Then she sharpens the point, and rushes on +wilder than before. She don't eat much, and if any one calls her to +dinner, never heeds them; but when she conceives herself arrived at a +suitable stopping-place, drops her paper, runs to the pantry, snatches a +piece of gingerbread, and back to her scribbling again, munching it as +she writes. + +This is precisely the way she brings her "stories" into existence; but, +lest we write her out of favor too rapidly, we'll leave the subject, and +back to our tale again, recommencing with a new chapter, which is-- + + + + + CHAPTER IX. + + "And there are haunts in that far land-- + O, who shall dream or tell + Of all the shaded loveliness + She hides in grot and dell!" + + +O, often, often, far from this, have we watched the great red sun +sinking behind the vast stretching prairie, while all the broad west +seemed like a surging flood of gold beyond an ocean of green; and often +have we beheld day's glorious orb looming above the soft blue waters of +the placid bay, while the joyous birds soared up the sparkling dome of +heaven, their little throats almost bursting with thrilling melody, and +the balmy south wind came laden with the perfume of ten thousand +ordorous flowers! + +O, sweet land upon the tropic's glowing verge, what star-bright memories +we have of thee! How deeply treasured in our heart of hearts are all thy +joys and pleasures,--ay, and griefs and sorrows too! But as the spot +where this long-crushed and drooping spirit heard those first, low, +preluding strains, foretokenings that its long-enfeebled energies were +wakening from their death-like slumber to breathe response to the +thousand tones in sea and air that called so loudly on them to arouse +once more to life and action, it will ever be most truly dear. And when +again life's fetters clog with the ice and snow of those frigid lands, +we'll long to fly again to those climes of song and sunny ray, and +forget earth's cankering cares in the contemplation of Nature's +luxuriant charms. But we grow abstract. + +Come with us, reader, if you will, over the prairies of Texas, gorgeous +with their many-colored flowers, dotted with the dark-green live-oaks, +and watered by pellucid rivers. To that log-house, standing under the +boughs of a wide-spreading pecan tree, let us wend our way. + +There is a gray-headed man sitting in a deer-skin-bottomed chair, on the +rude gallery, and gazing with weary eye on the lovely scenery around +him. Two young ladies are standing near, their countenances wearing +sullen expressions of discontent and sorrow. + +"So this is Texas, father," remarked the elder of the two, at length. "I +wonder how you ever expect to earn a living here, for my part." + +"By tilling the soil, my child, and growing cotton and sugar; fine +country for that. Land rich as mud and cheap as dirt. Why, I have +purchased five hundred acres for a mere trifle. Zounds! I feel like +amassing a new fortune here in a few years," said the old man, suddenly +rousing from his stupor. + +"Well, I'm perfectly disgusted," said the younger lady, "and wish I had +run off to Australia with brother Jack and Celestina's faithless +husband." + +"I wish I was in that convent upon the Mississippi, where poor sister +Celestina is now," sighed the elder. + +"Pshaw, girls! you'll both marry wild Texan rangers before two years," +said the old gentleman, who was no less a personage than Esq. Camford, +formerly the wealthiest merchant in New Orleans, but now a poor Texan +emigrant in his log-cabin on the Cibolo. Well, he was a better man now +than when rolling in the luxury of ill-gotten wealth, for adversity +never fails to teach useful lessons; and it had taught this +world-hardened, conscience-seared man, that "honesty is the best +policy." + +A tremulous voice from within attracted the attention of the group on +the gallery. "Mercy, mercy, Thisbe, take that viper away, and let me out +of this bed! it is full of frightful serpents." + +"Why, no 'taint neither, Missus," said poor Thisbe, struggling to lift +her mistress from the pillows; "there beant a snake nowheres about, only +a little striped 'izard, and I driv' him away." + +The husband now entered. + +"O, Adolphus!" exclaimed the nerve-stricken wife, "that you should have +brought me to a death like this! to be shot by Indians, devoured by +bears, and bitten by rattlesnakes!" + +"Thunder and Mars! nobody's dead yet, and this is a fine, healthy, +growing country," said the squire, in a loud, good-humored voice. + +"Alas! what am I to eat?" continued the nervous lady, "I can have no +claws and crackers in these wilds." + +"Let Thisbe catch you a young alligator from the river; that will be +something new for a relish." + +"O, Adolphus! how can you mock at the horrors that surround us? My +nerves, my nerves! you will never learn to regard them." + +"No, probably not," returned the husband; "but let me tell you, Nabby, I +don't believe nerves are of any available use out here in Texas. They'll +do for effect in the fashionable saloons of a city; but what think a +wild Camanche would say if he chanced some broiling-hot morning to catch +you in dishabille, and you begged him to retreat and spare your nerves? +Why, it would be all gibberish to him." + +"O, Adolphus! how can you horrify me thus? And these lovely jewels to be +devoured by hyenas and swallowed by crocodiles! O, my nerves! Thisbe, my +nerve-reviver this moment!" + +"There ain't a bit on't left, Missus; 'twas all in the trunk dat tumbled +out o' the cart when we swum through dat ar river," said the poor +servant, in a tone of anxious dismay. + +"Heaven save me now!" exclaimed the panic-stricken lady. "Adolphus, you +must go to New Orleans to-morrow and bring me some." + +"Thunder and Mars! You forget we are eight hundred miles from there, and +what do you suppose would become of you all before I got back? You would +be mounted on pack-mules, carried off to the Indian frontier, and made +squaws of." + +"O, father, don't leave us, I entreat of you!" sobbed Susette, on +hearing these words. + +"Why did I not die ere I came to this?" groaned Mrs. Camford. "Why did I +not die when my eldest jewel and brilliant son were torn from my +embrace? Alas! for what awful fate am I reserved?" + +"Come, Nabby, this would do on the boards of the St. Charles, but toads +and lizards can't appreciate theatricals. Pheny, can't you manage to get +up some sort of a dinner out of the corn-meal and sweet potatoes I +bought of the old Mynheer this morning; and there's a few eggs and a ham +in the larder too. I declare I relish this new life already;--it is a +change, Pheny, isn't it?" asked the father, looking in his fair +daughter's face. + +"Yes," answered she, "and if it wasn't for the snakes and lizards, I +wouldn't complain." + +"Never mind them," returned the squire, bravely; "they shan't hurt you. +We'll have a nice, cosey home here a year from to-day." + + + + + CHAPTER X. + + "It was the calm, moonshiny hour, + And earth was hushed and sleeping; + The hour when faithful love is e'er + Its fondest vigils keeping." + + +Clear as amber fell the moonlight on the forms of Wayland and Winnie +Morris, as arm in arm they roamed the calm, delightful shores of Lake +Pontchartrain. + +"Well, sister," said Wayland, "four weeks have passed since I last saw +you, and how have you sped in your capacity of teacher?" + +"O, bravely, Wayland! 'Tis so delightful to feel I am of some importance +in the world, and that I'm laying up money to repay my brother, as far +as I am able, for all he has done for me! You should see me in my little +school-room, with my pupils round me. I fancy no queen e'er felt more +pride and satisfaction in beholding her subjects kneeling before her, +than I do with my infant class leaning their tiny arms on my lap and +looking in my face as they repeat from my lips the evening prayer." + +"I am pleased to find you so content and happy," said Wayland. + +"O, I am indeed so, and indebted to you for all I enjoy!" returned +Winnie. + +"And what of Jack Camford, sis?" asked the brother, with a mischievous +smile. + +"O, I have not forgotten him yet, naughty Wayland!" answered she; "I +dream of him most every night." + +"Well, I would not seek to control your dreams, sis; but I fancy they'll +occur less and less often, and by and by cease altogether." + +"You think I never loved Jack," said Winnie. + +"I think you had a girlish fancy for him. As to woman's holy, unchanging +love, you have never yet experienced it, my little sister." + +"When shall I, then? I'm sixteen, and a preceptress." + +"Yes." + +"But don't you think Jack loved me, Wayland?" + +"I think he had a boy's fancy for you, which may deepen into love with +time, or may be wholly dissipated from his bosom." + +"But why did you object to him so strongly? You well-nigh broke my heart +at one time. It was not like you to hate the son for the parent's +crimes." + +"No, it was not for the father's errors that I bade you shun the son; +but because I discovered in him a frivolous, faulty character, that had +no strength of purpose, or fixed principles of action; and I dreaded the +influence such a person might exert over your youthful, pliant mind." + +"Now, what if he should return some of these years, and lay his life, +love and fortune at my feet?" suggested Winnie, archly. + +"Should he return with the elements that make the man stamped on his +face and conduct, I would never object to his addresses to my sister, if +she favored them," said Wayland. + +"How the poor Camfords have suffered!" remarked Winnie, after a pause. + +"They have, indeed," returned Wayland; "all our wrongs have been +expiated, and I raised not a finger to avenge them. My mother on her +death-bed bade me remember 'Vengeance was the Lord's,' and, thanks to +her name, I have done so." + +"Where are the family?" inquired Winnie. + +"Emigrated to Texas; and my brother editor, Mr. Lester, has purchased +their former residence, and I am boarding there at present. He has +extended to you a cordial invitation to pass your next vacation at his +mansion." + +"O, he is very kind! I shall be delighted to do so. Do you still like +editing as well as formerly, brother?" + +"Yes, it is an occupation suited to my tastes; and some of these years, +when I have sufficient capital, I want to go home to old Tennessee, and +erect a pretty rural cottage on the site of our former abode, and there +pass away life in peace and quietude with you, dear sister, if such a +prospect is pleasing to your mind. Or are you more ambitious?" + +"No, brother; ambition is for men, not women," said Winnie. + +"Yes, for men who love it," responded Wayland; "but my highest ambition +is to be happy; and I look for happiness alone in rural quiet and +seclusion. Do you accede to my project, sis?" + +"With all my heart." + +"Then see that you keep that heart free, and not, before I carry my plan +into execution, have given it to the charge of some gallant knight, and +left me desolate in my pretty cottage on the verdant shores of +Tennessee." + +"Ay, and see that you don't find some fairer flower to bloom in that +cottage home, and rudely toss me from the window," exclaimed Winnie, +with a merry laugh. + +"No fear of that," said Wayland; "now I must leave you. Expect me in a +week again." + +And with an affectionate salute the brother and sister parted. + + + + + CHAPTER XI. + + "Ay, there are memories that will not vanish, + Thoughts of the past we have no power to banish; + To show the heart how powerless mere will; + For we may suffer, and yet struggle still; + It is not at our choice that we forget-- + That is a power no science teaches yet, + The heart may be a dark and closed-up tomb, + But memory stands a ghost amid the gloom." + + +Miss Jerusha Sharpwell and Mrs. Fleetfoot had dropped in to take tea +with Mrs. Sykes on a pleasant September evening. The latter lady, as in +duty bound, was highly pleased to see her dear friends, and forthwith +ordered Hannah, her servant-girl, to make a batch of soda rolls, with a +bit of shortening rubbed in, and just step over to Mrs. Frye's, and ask +that good lady "if she would not be so very kind and obliging as to lend +Mrs. Sykes a plateful of her nice, sweet doughnuts, as she had visitors +come in unexpectedly, and was not quite prepared to entertain them as +she could wish." Thus were the guests provided for. + +"How happened it you were absent from the last sewing circle, sister +Sykes?" inquired Miss Sharpwell. "We had an unusually interesting +season. Several new names were added to our list, and sister Fleetfoot, +here, entertained us with a most amusing account of Pamela Gaddie's +marriage with Mr. Smith, the missionary to Bengal." + +"Indeed! I regret I was denied the pleasure of listening to the recital; +but company detained me from the circle." + +"Ah! who was visiting you?" asked Mrs. Fleetfoot. + +"The Churchills, from Cincinnati," answered Mrs. Sykes. "You know they +are particular friends of my husband." + +"Yes; is their son married yet?" + +"No; and he called on Alice Orville every day while he was here." + +"La, do tell me!" said Jerusha. "How long was he with you, Mrs. Sykes?" + +"A day and a half," returned that lady. "He came up in the morning-train +and returned next evening." + +"Well," said Mrs. Fleetfoot, "they do say Alice Orville is engaged to +Fred. Milder." + +"Sakes alive!" exclaimed Miss Jerusha. "I never heard a word about it +before! Well, Mrs. Milder was always standing up for Mrs. Orville. I +thought it meant something. Now I remember, Fred. was at the last sewing +circle and walked home with Alice. I thought strange of it then, for it +was hardly a dozen yards to her house, and some of us young ladies had +to walk five times as far all alone. Who told you of the engagement?" + +"La, I can't remember now!" said Mrs. Fleetfoot; "but I've heard of it +ever so many times." + +"Well, they'll make a pretty couple enough," observed Mrs. Sykes; +"though I rather fancied Alice was engaged to somebody off south, 'cause +she seems sort of downcast sometimes, and keeps so close since she got +home." + +"O, la, that's cause she's got wind of the story that was going about +here before she came back! I wonder if there was any truth in it?" said +Mrs. Fleetfoot. + +"I don't know; I never put much confidence in flying stories," remarked +Jerusha. + +"Neither do I!" said Mrs. Sykes; "or take the trouble to repeat, if I +chance to hear them." + +"Nor I!" chimed in Mrs. Fleetfoot. "If there is anything I mortally +abhor, it is a tattler and busybody." + +"Our sentiments, exactly!" exclaimed the other two ladies in concert. + +Hannah now entered and announced tea, and the trio of scrupulous, +conscientious ladies repaired to the dining-room to luxuriate on short +rolls and Mrs. Frye's neighborly doughnuts. + +Mrs. Orville had a pleasant residence on the lake shore, and everything +wore a brighter aspect in the eyes of the mother, since her beloved +daughter had returned to enliven the old home by her sunshiny presence. +But Alice had passed from the gay-hearted child to the thoughtful woman +in the two years she had been away, and there was a mild, pensive light +in her dark eye that spoke of a chastened spirit within. Still, she was +usually cheerful, and always, even in her most melancholy hours, an +agreeable companion. Beautiful in person, highly educated and +accomplished, her conversation, whether tinged with sadness or enlivened +by wit and humor, exercised a strange, fascinating power over her +listeners. + +Alice had left New Orleans with the expectation of having her cousin +Josephine spend the ensuing winter with her at the north; but shortly +after her arrival home a letter from her cousin informed her of their +fallen fortunes, and proposed emigration to Texas. As Alice knew not to +what part of that State to direct a reply, all further correspondence +was broken off between the parties. From Wayland Morris she never heard, +and knew naught concerning him, save by occasional articles from his pen +in southern journals, which were noticed with commendation and applause. +She tried hard to forget him; "for it is not right," she said, "to waste +my life and health on one who never thinks of me. But why did he awaken +a hope in my breast that he loved me, if that hope was to be withdrawn +as soon as it became necessary to my happiness?" + +"Alice, Alice!" exclaimed Mrs. Orville, as the fair girl stood in the +recess of a vine-covered window, absorbed in thoughts like these, "Mr. +Milder is coming through the gate; will you go out to receive him?" + +Alice roused from her reverie, and saying "Yes, mother," very quietly, +hastened through the hall to meet her visitor. + +"Good-evening, Mr. Milder!" said she, with a graceful courtesy. "Come +into the parlor. I have been laying the sin of ungallantry upon you for +the last three days." + +"It is the last charge I would have expected preferred against me by +you, Miss Orville!" said he, smiling. + +"What other would you sooner have expected?" she inquired, looping up +the snowy muslin curtains to admit the parting sunbeams. + +"One I would have dreaded far more to hear,--that of being too assiduous +in my attendance," returned he, in a low tone. + +Alice answered by changing the conversation, and, after an hour passed +in pleasant chit-chat, Fred. proposed a stroll on the lake shore. Alice +was soon ready, and they sallied forth. The weather was delightful, and +that walk along Erie's sounding shores was fraught with a life-interest +to one, and regretful sorrow to both. + +"I am going to Texas, Alice!" said Milder, as they reaepproached the +mansion of Mrs. Orville. + +"O, that you might find my cousin Josephine there, who is so good and +beautiful!" remarked Alice. + +"Would I might, if it would afford you a moment's pleasure," he +answered, in a dejected tone. + +"If you do, pray give her my love, and entreat her to write and inform +me of her welfare," said Alice, earnestly. + +"I shall be highly gratified to execute your commission," he answered; +"and now, good-by, Alice! May you be as happy as you deserve!" + +"And may you, also, Fred.!" said Alice, with tears in her eyes. One +lingering pressure of the hand, and he was gone. + +"Noble heart!" exclaimed Alice; "why could I not love him? Alas! a +tyrant grasp is on my soul, which, while it delights to hold me in its +toils, and tantalize and torment, will not love me, or let me love +another!" + +"Alice!" said a voice within. + +"Yes, mother, I'm coming," replied the daughter, entering the hall with +a languid step, and proceeding to divest herself of shawl and bonnet. + +"You have had a long stroll and look fatigued," remarked the fond +parent, noticing her daughter's flushed cheeks and hurried respiration, +as she flung herself into a large rocking-chair by the open window. +Where is Fred.?" + +"Gone home," said Alice. + +"Why did he not come in and rest a while?" + +"I forgot to invite him, I believe," returned Alice, briefly. + +"And did you not ask him to call at any future time?" + +"No, mother; he is going to Texas." + +"Indeed! How long has he entertained that idea?" asked Mrs. Orville in a +tone of astonishment. + +"Not long, I fancy. I told him to find cousin Josephine and entreat her +to write to me," said Alice, fanning her face with a great, flapping +feather fan. + +"I hope he may do so; and much do I wish your cousin might be here to +pass the winter, for I fear you will be lonely without some companion of +your own age," said Mrs. Orville, attentively regarding her daughter. + +"O, never fear for me, mother!" returned Alice. "I assure you I have +ample resources for enjoyment in my own breast. They only need occasion +to be called forth and put in exercise." + +"I hope it may prove thus," responded the tender mother. "Let us now +retire to our pleasant chamber, and I will do myself the pleasure of +listening to your rich voice, while you read a portion of Scripture, and +sing a sacred hymn." + +Thus mother and daughter retired; and while the old heart that had +passed beyond the youth-life of love and passion, rested calmly in its +tranquil sleep, the young heart by its side throbbed wildly, trembled, +wept and sighed; tossing restlessly on its pillow, haunted by ill-omened +dreams and ghastly phantom-shapes too hideous for reality. For there is +no rest, or calm, or quiet, for the passion-haunted breast. + + + + + CHAPTER XII. + + "'Twas one of love's wild freaks, I do suppose, + And who is there can reason upon those? + I'd like to see the one so bold." + + +The lively winter season was at its height in New Orleans, and all the +vast city astir with life and gayety. In the former wealthy home of the +Camfords, her wrought slippers resting on the polished grate in the +elegant parlor, sat a prim maiden lady, arrayed in steel-colored satin. +An embroidered muslin morning-cap was placed with an air of much +precision over her glossy brown _imported_ locks, and the pointed collar +around her neck was secured by a plain bow of fawn-colored ribbon. + +Suddenly the door opened, and a gentleman, of fine personal appearance, +and elegantly attired, entered the apartment, with hat and gloves in +hand. + +"Where is Winnie?" was the hasty inquiry. + +"I left her in her room half an hour ago," was the reply. + +"It is quite time we should go;--the theatre will be filled to +overflowing at Miss Julia's benefit," remarked the gentleman. "I wish +you would go with us, sister." + +"Theatres will do for girls and _fops_," said the lady; "_my_ mind +requires something solid and weighty to satisfy it." + +"Then I suppose Col. Edmunds suits you exactly," observed the gentleman, +laughing; "he is a real Sir John Falstaff in proportions." + +"I'm in no mood for your frivolous jests. If you were in a rational +temper I would like to ask you a question." + +"Well, out with it. I'm as rational at thirty as I ever will be, +probably." + +"You were becoming quite a decent man before this fly-a-way girl came +among us. Now I wish to know when she is going away?" + +"Heavens! I don't know; not at present, I hope," said the gentleman, +quickly. + +"Well, either she or I will leave pretty soon," returned the lady, +pursing up her lips with a stiff, determined expression; "she is such +a self-willed, obstinate little thing, and turns the house all +topsy-turvy, and makes such a racket and confusion, that I cannot and +_will_ not endure it longer. My mind requires quiet for contemplation." + +"Why, she seems to me like a sunbeam; like a canary-bird in the house, +sister; warming, and filling it with music." + +"She seems to me more like a hurricane, or wild-cat," remarked the lady, +spitefully. + +The gentleman laughed, and, at this juncture, in bounded the subject of +the discourse, arrayed in azure silk, a wreath of white flowers on her +head, and a wrought fan swinging by a ribbon at her delicate wrist. + +"Well, I've been waiting for you these ten minutes," said the gentleman, +gazing with admiration on the lovely being before him; "let us go now, +or I fear some impertinent person may intrude upon our reserved seats. +The carriage is at the door." + +"I'm sorry to have kept you waiting, Mr. Lester," said Winnie. + +"O, no apology, Miss Morris!" returned he, gayly; "gentlemen always +expect to wait for ladies; it is their privilege." + +"Miss Mary," said Winnie, advancing toward the prim lady by the grate, +"I fear I have misplaced some of your toilet articles, for I could not +find one half of mine. The chamber-maid had given them new places, and I +took the liberty to apply to yours, but I'll put them all right in the +morning." + +"O, it is very well, of course," returned the lady, sharply; "plain +enough who is mistress here." + +Winnie stood irresolute, gazing with astonishment on Miss Mary's angry, +flushed countenance, and at length turned her blue eyes toward the +gentleman, who was attentively regarding her features. + +"Come, Winnie," said he, opening the hall-door, "we shall be very late." + +The young girl quickly followed his direction. "Is brother Wayland to be +there?" she inquired, as the carriage rolled away. + +"I urged his attendance, and he half promised to go," answered the +gentleman; "but, if he fails, cannot you be contented with me alone for +one brief evening?" + +"O, yes, many!" returned Winnie. "I only wished he would go and not +confine himself to business so closely." + +"I wish he would relax his editorial labors, for his health demands it, +I think," said Mr. Lester. "We must induce him to quit the chair of +office, and take a trip up the river this spring." + +"I wish he would leave that dull, tedious printing-office a few weeks," +exclaimed Winnie. "He has long entertained a project of erecting a +little cottage on the shore of Tennessee, where we used to live, for +himself and me, and I think he has sufficient money now to carry his +plan into effect; don't you, Mr. Lester?" + +"Undoubtedly he has; but such a proceeding would not please me at all," +answered the gentleman. + +"Why not?" asked Winnie, turning her eyes quickly toward her companion. + +He smiled to meet her startled glance, and said, "I will explain my +reasons at some future time, Winnie. We are now at the theatre." + +Mr. Lester handed the fair girl from the carriage, and they made their +way through the crowd. Wayland met them on the steps, and accompanied +them home after the play. + +As Winnie passed the door of Miss Mary Lester's room to reach her own, +she observed it standing wide open, and wondered to behold it thus, as +Miss Mary was accustomed to bar and bolt it close, for fear of thieves +and housebreakers. But, fatigued and sleepy, she passed on, and soon +forgot her surprise after gaining the privacy of her own apartment. +Early in the morning she was roused from slumber by a furious knocking +on her door. She sprang up and demanded, "Who is there?" + +"Me, Miss Winnie, only me--Aunt Eunice; and do you know what is become +o' Missus Mary?" exclaimed an excited voice without; "her door is wide +open this morning, and nobody slept in her bed last night." + +Winnie was by this time fairly roused, and, opening her door, the poor +servant-girl flounced into the room, the very picture of terror and +affright. + +"Has your master risen, and does he know of his sister's absence?" +inquired Winnie. + +"No, nobody is up but me, and Missus Mary always tells me to come right +to her room first thing with a pitcher o' cool water; so I went this +mornin', you see, and behold missus' door wide open and no missus thar! +O, Miss Winnie, I 'spect satin has sperritted off soul and body, 'deed I +does." + +"O, no, Aunt Eunice, I think not!" said Winnie smiling; "but you had +better go to your master and inform him what has occurred." + +"'Deed I will, Miss," said the black woman, disappearing. + +Winnie proceeded to dress, in a strange perplexity of fear and +astonishment, while Aunt Eunice thumped long and loud on her master's +door. + +"Who's there?" at last exclaimed a voice within. + +"Me, Aunt Eunice," said the woman frantically, "O, massa, massa, missus +gone, and who's to pour the coffee for breakfast?" + +"What are you raving about?" said the master, opening his door; "why are +you disturbing me at this early hour?" + +"Missus gone; sperritted off soul and body, I 'spect." + +"What are you talking about?" demanded Lester, not in the least +comprehending her words. + +"O, just come up to her room and see for yourself." + +"Why, what's to be seen there?" he asked. + +"Nothin' at all, I tells ye. Missus clean gone. Her door wide open, and +she never slept in her bed last night, massa," said the woman, gasping +for breath, as she ceased speaking. + +The unusual sounds aroused Wayland, who slept near, and flinging open +his door he demanded what was the matter. + +"O, Master Morris!" said aunt Eunice, turning her discourse upon him, +"missus gone--clean gone." + +"Come on, Morris," said Lester. "Eunice says her mistress is spirited +away. Let's dive into the mystery and see what we can bring to light." + +Wayland followed Lester up the hall stairs, wondering what this strange +disturbance might import. They traversed the passage to Miss Mary's +apartment, when, sure enough, as Eunice had affirmed, they found the +door wide open, and, to appearance, no person had occupied the room the +previous night. Lester's quick eye instantly marked, what the servant in +her fright had failed to notice, the absence of two large trunks that +used to stand beside the bed, and the _presence_ of a small folded +billet on the dressing-table. He advanced with a hasty step, broke the +seal, and read. + +"Ha, ha!" laughed he, as he run over the contents. "Eunice, go below and +light the fires." + +The woman hastened away. + +"Romance at thirty-seven! elopement extraordinary, Wayland!" he +continued. "Miss Mary Lester has become in due form Mrs. Col. Edmunds, +and 'fled,' as she expresses it--(now where was the use in _flying_, for +who would have objected to the marriage? But then 'twas romantic, of +course)--to the wilds of Texas; there to enjoy the sweets of domestic +felicity with her adored husband; to which fair land she hopes I'll some +day come to visit her, when I have regained possession of my senses, and +learnt the difference 'twixt canary-birds and wild-cats." + +Wayland listened with amazement depicted on his features. + +"Strange; all wonder, isn't it, Morris?" pursued Lester. "Let's go below +and discuss the matter." + +The gentlemen descended to the parlor, where Aunt Eunice soon presented +herself, and, with rueful countenance, said: + +"Please, massa, who is to pour the coffee this morning? Missus gone, you +know." + +"Well, Eunice, suppose you run up stairs, and ask Miss Winnie if she +will not condescend to perform that office this morning, as we find +ourselves so suddenly bereft of a housekeeper?" said Lester, in a +mock-serious tone. + +Winnie of course assented, and passed into the breakfast-room, where she +found her brother and Lester already seated at the table. + +"Good-morning, Miss Morris," said the latter. "A romance, such as we +read of in old knights' tales, was enacted in our house last night, in +consequence of which a forlorn bachelor has to ask of you the favor to +preside at his desolate board this morning." + +"I shall be pleased to serve you," returned Winnie, assuming the head of +the table, and so prettily did she perform the duties of her new office, +that Lester forgot his muffins and sandwiches, in admiration of his +newly-installed housekeeper _pro tem_. + +Miss Mary's elopement was a three days' wonder, and then the affair was +as if it had never been; save that the servants could not sufficiently +admire Miss Winnie, or sufficiently rejoice over Miss Mary's departure. +"O," said Aunt Eunice, "don't I wish massa would marry you, Miss Winnie, +and then the house would be like heaven--'deed it would!" + + + + + CHAPTER XIII. + + "We've many things to say within the bounds + Of this good chapter, which is 'mong the last; + So be of better cheer; for we are well + Nigh done." + + +We will just step over to Texas this morning, dear reader, for well we +know the mocking-birds are singing sweetly, and the wild geese rise from +the placid bayous, and flap their broad, white wings over the bright +green prairies, on their inland flight, and the gentle breezes stir the +dark, luxuriant foliage of the wide, primeval forests, while all the air +is redolent with the odors of the ocean of flowers that cover the whole +sunny land with bloom and beauty. + +It is something more than a year since we parted with Esq. Camford in +his new emigrant home, and now we have another party of friends arriving +in our young "Italy of America," even the romantic Miss Mary Lester, and +her John Falstaff husband; and Fred. Milder, too, has had time to wear +off the edge of his love disappointment on the ridgy hog-wallows of this +fair south-western land. For we don't believe there's another so +effectual antidote in the world for a fit of the blues or love dumps, as +a long day's ride in a Texan stage-coach, with three pair of wild +mustangs for horses, over these same hog-wallows; to say nothing of the +way they despatch jaundice, dyspepsia, and all the host of bilious +diseases. But don't you quite understand what hog-wallows are, reader? +Well, Heaven help you then, when you go out south or west, and pitch +into them for the first time! Invoke your patron saint to keep your soul +and body together, and prevent your limbs from flying off at tangents. + +We will tell you how we once heard a Kentuckian (and God bless the +Kentucky boys in general, for they are a whole-souled race!) account for +these anomalous things. We were pitching through a group of them, some +dozen of us in a miserable wagon, when one "new comer" asked his +neighbor, "What is the cause of these confounded _humps_ in the roads?" + +"They are hog-wallows," responded the one interrogated, in a pompous +tone, as if proud to display his superior knowledge of the land into +which both the speakers had but recently made their advent. + +"Hog-wallows!" exclaimed the man, more in doubt than ever by his +newly-acquired knowledge, "what makes so many of them then?" + +"Why, you see when the great rains come on," commenced the "wise 'un," +"the country gets all afloat, and when it begins to dry off a little, +the wild hogs come by thousands, and roll and flop about in the mud, and +that makes all these pitch-holes, which they call hog-wallows." + +"Why don't they kill the hogs and eat 'em, and not have 'em rooting up +the roads in this awful way?" asked greeny number one. + +"Lord! they do kill and kill, I'm told," said greeny number two; "but +Texas is such an almighty rich country that all sorts o' critters and +things grow up spontaneously everywheres." + +"Creation! but why don't they build fences alongside their roads then!" + +"O, they never make fences in Texas; first you'd know a hurricane would +come tearing along, and land them all in the Gulf of Mexico, quicker +than you could say 'Old Kentuck.'" + +"Stars and gaiters! what a dreadful dangerous country is this we have +got into!" said number two, with a frightened aspect, as they dropped +the subject and relapsed into silence, while it was evident, from their +anxious visages, that their minds were harassed and disturbed, by +visions of hog-wallows, hurricanes and spontaneous animals. + +We have heard other and more philosophical hypotheses as to the origin +of these uneven roads. Some suppose the country was once an inland sea, +and these ridges were occasioned by the continuous action of the waves; +others suppose the intense heat of the sun on the soft, clayey soil, +caused it to crack and spread asunder, leaving the surface broken and +ridgy. This latter is the more generally received opinion, we believe. + +Here's half a chapter on hog-wallows, the unpoetical things! but as +utilitarians maintain nothing is made but what subserves some purpose, +we premise these humpy roads were made for the benefit of gouty men, +dyspeptic women, and love-sick lads and lasses. Thus disposed of, "we +resume the thread of our narrative," as novel-writers say. Our pen waxes +wild and intractable, whenever we get safely over the stormy gulf, and +stand on the shores of bonny, bright Texas; for we feel at home there, +hog-wallows, musquitoes, Camanches and all. Let none dare gainsay Texas +in our ears, for it is the banner state of all the immaculate +thirty-one. Come on, reader, now we have had our say, straight up to the +thriving plantation of Esq. Camford, and behold the wonders this +wonderful land can produce upon the characters of nervous, +delicately-constituted ladies. That buxom, blooming-matron in the loose +gingham wrapper, and muslin morning-cap, who stands on the gallery of +that new and tastefully-built cottage, all overshaded by the boughs of +the majestic pecan trees, giving off orders to a brace of shiny-eyed +mulatto wenches, who listen with reverential awe and attention, is none +other than the hysterical, shaky-nerved Mrs. Camford, whom we beheld +some two years ago bewailing the fate which had brought her to this +awful place, to be poisoned by snakes, mangled by bears, and murdered by +Indians. Listen to her words: + +"Thisbe, take the lunch I have placed in the market-basket down to the +cotton-field boys, and ask your master to come to the house soon as +convenient; some people from the States are come to visit us:--and you, +Hagar, go to the garden and gather a quantity of vegetables for dinner. +I will be in the kitchen to assist in their preparation." + +The women bowed, and hastened away on their separate errands. Mrs. +Camford now turned to enter the house, when Josephine, her cheeks +blooming with health and happiness, came bounding to her mother's side. +"O, mamma, the young gentleman, Mr. Milder, knows all about cousin +Alice! he has come right from the place in which she resides. He says +she sent a great deal of love to us all, and desired me to write to her. +Perhaps, now we know she remembers us so kindly, you will let me go +north some time, and pay my long-promised visit. Susette and her husband +talk of travelling next season, you know." + +All this was uttered in the most lively and animated tone conceivable, +and Mrs. Camford smiled, and answered cheerfully, as mother and daughter +reentered the neat, airy parlor, where our heroine of romance, Miss Mary +Lester, was sitting beside her portly, red-visaged husband, Col. +Edmunds, who had, in early life, been a Texan ranger, and acquired so +keen a relish for the wild, exciting scenes of a new country, that he +would not give his hand (his heart we suppose he could not control) to +the fair Mary, unless she would consent to forego the luxuries of +fashionable life, and follow his fortunes through the perils and +vicissitudes of an Indian frontier. She stood out to the last, hoping +the stalwart colonel would yield to her eloquent pleadings, and consent +to make his abode in New Orleans; for she conceived that brother +Augustus, having arrived at the sober age of thirty, would never marry, +and it would be the finest idea in the world for him to relinquish the +splendid estate he had acquired by his own untiring exertions, to the +hands of Col. Edmunds, while she, as the worthy colonel's most estimable +consort, would condescend to assume the direction of the servants and +household affairs, and Augustus could thus live wholly at his ease, +without a worldly care to distract his breast. What an affectionate, +self-sacrificing sister would she be, thus kindly to relieve her brother +at her own expense! But, just as this plan began to ripen for execution, +she was counter-plotted, or fancied herself to be, which led to the same +denouement. Winnie Morris came to pass a vacation with her brother, +Wayland, and the fore-doomed bachelor, Augustus Lester, most audaciously +dared to fall in love with the cackling girl. So Miss Mary declared; and +to remain in her brother's mansion, where she had hitherto exercised +unlimited sway, under such a little minx of a mistress, was too much for +human nature to endure; so, all on a sudden, she yielded in full to the +majestic colonel's wishes, and "cut sticks" for Texas, flying, as many +of us often do, from an imaginary evil, and leaving behind poor little +Winnie, innocent and unsuspecting as a lamb, with the great coffee-urn +in her trembling hand. How long the fair girl remained thus innocent and +unsuspecting, we are yet to know. + +"So you are from New Orleans, Col. Edmunds," remarked Mrs. Camford. "I +do not recollect of ever having met you there; but to see any person +from our former home, though personally strangers, affords us pleasure +and gratification." + +"I have only resided in New Orleans about six months, madam," returned +Col. Edmunds; "the most of my life has been spent in camp and field." + +"My husband is a soldier," said Mrs. Edmunds, "and we are now on our way +to the Indian frontier." + +"Indeed! and how do you think you will relish frontier life?" asked Mrs. +Camford. + +"O, I shall be contented anywhere with my husband!" + +"Just married, madam, and desperately in love yet," said the colonel. +"Always lived in the city, and thought it the greatest piece of audacity +in the world when I informed her I was going to stop at the residence of +a private gentleman with whom I was not in the least acquainted, to bait +my mules and get dinner. Not a bit acquainted with the Texan elephant, +you see, madam." + +"Heaven save me, Samuel! do people in this country associate with +elephants?" exclaimed the bride, with the prettiest display of horrified +surprise. + +"To be sure; I had one for a bed-fellow six or eight months when I first +came out here," returned the husband, with perfect serenity. + +"O, my soul, I hope I shall never see one!" said the young wife, +nestling closer to her husband's side. + +The colonel laughed heartily, and all joined in his merriment. + +"You should not alarm new-comers by such bug-bear tales," remarked Mrs. +Camford, at length. "This young gentleman, Mr. Milder, is just from the +north." + +"Indeed! well, he looks as if he might soon learn how to grapple with +elephants and tigers both," said the colonel, glancing on the young +man's countenance. + +"Tigers!" exclaimed Mrs. Edmunds, taking fresh alarm; "do those +ferocious creatures grow here too?" + +"Yes, everything grows here, Mary, about five times as large as anywhere +else," answered the bluff colonel. "But what say, young man, to going up +on the frontier with me, and seeing a bit of soldier life? You'd get to +see the whole elephant there, teeth, trunk and all." + +"Why will you keep talking about that dreadful monster?" said the young +wife, who had brought a few nerves along with her. "You'll terrify me to +death, Samuel." + +"You must get used to the critters, Mary, and the quicker the better, is +all I have to say," returned the husband, patting her cheek. + +Esquire Camford now entered, dinner was served, and the conversation +took a higher tone. Esquire C. spoke of the country, its fertility, +rapid improvement, and exhaustless resources. Fred. Milder began to feel +an interest in a land with prospects so brilliant, and accepted with +pleasure Col. Edmunds' invitation to travel on westward in company with +him. The travellers were persuaded to pass the night; and during the +visit Mrs. Camford came to know that Mrs. Edmunds was a sister of the +Mr. Lester who had purchased her former sumptuous residence from the +hands of the creditors, at the time of their failure in New Orleans. +Still the knowledge did not waken regretful feelings, or excite a pang +of envy in her breast; for she had learned to regard a cottage with +content as better than wealth and pomp with pride and misery to distract +the spirit. + +The morrow dawned beautifully. Round and red the sun arose beyond the +far, green prairie, when the mules and carriages were brought to the +door, and the little party of travellers recommenced their journey. +Fred. Milder cast a lingering glance after the pretty Josephine, as she +wished him a delightful tour up the country, and bade him not forget to +call and give her an account of all his adventures on his return. He +promised faithfully not to forget, and, with kind adieus, the party +moved on their way. + +Josephine sat down after her usual morning tasks were completed, and +indited a long epistle to her cousin Alice; giving a general description +of her Texan home; not failing to mention her mother's happy recovery +from nerves, and Susette's marriage with a promising young planter; also +the pleasant visit they had enjoyed from Mr. Milder; and ended by saying +she hoped another season, when papa was a little richer, to make her +long-contemplated visit to the north. + + + + + CHAPTER XIV. + + "Youth, love and beauty, all were hers, + Why should she not be happy?" + + +Where would you like to go now, reader? We are desirous to take you by +the path that will lead through this story by the shortest cut, and, as +we dare not doubt but that will be the course of all others most +grateful to your tastes and feelings, we'll clear Texas at a bound, for +there'll blow a whistling "Norther" there soon, we apprehend, and that +would tangle our hair worse than it is tangled now, and we have not had +time to comb it since this story commenced. So, imagine "Effie," dear +reader, with her brown locks wisped up in the most unbecoming manner +possible, a calico morning-gown wrapped loosely about her, and not over +clean, her fingers grimmed with pencil-dust, and her nose too, +perhaps--for she has a fashion of rubbing that useful organ, for ideas, +or something else, we know not what. + +Just imagine this, reader, and if you don't throw down the story in +actual disgust, you'll be more anxious to get through it than we are +even. + +Now away with episode, and here are we in the fair "Crescent City" +again, at the palace-like residence of Augustus Lester, Esq. The lord of +the mansion is at home, reclining on a silken sofa, which is drawn +before one of the deep, bloom-shaded windows of the elegant +drawing-room. He is in genial, after-dinner mood, and that fairy-looking +being, sitting by his side on a low ottoman, is our former friend, +Winnie Morris. But she bears another name now, for she has been three +months a wife--Augustus Lester's girl-bride! + +Were that affectionate sister's misgivings of her bachelor brother's +intentions toward that wild-cat girl altogether chimerical, then? +Present appearances would indicate them not to have been altogether +groundless; but really, when the fair Mary fled so precipitately, the +idea of making Winnie Morris his bride had never entered her brother's +cranium. He had regarded her as a pretty child, and delighted in her +sunshiny, buoyant spirit, and felt he would like to keep her near to +cheer and enliven his mansion; but from the moment he saw her presiding +with so much quiet dignity and grace at his table, on that eventful +morning, he resolved to win her heart if possible. The task was by no +means difficult, for an object to which we look up with gratitude and +reverence, 'tis next to impossible not to love. She forgot, in her +devotion to the lofty, high-souled man, her childish fancy for the +frivolous-minded boy, and when Wayland, on her bridal morning, asked +mischievously, "Where was Jack Camford vanished?" she replied, "In a +gold mine beyond the seas, I suppose, brother; but why mention his name +to make discord on this happy hour?" + +"It is strange Wayland does not return," remarked Augustus, at length, +rousing from a light doze, and drawing his young wife close to his side. + +"I thought you were fast asleep, Auguste," said she; "and here I have +been fanning you so attentively, to keep the mosquitoes away. Well, it +is time for Wayland to come, isn't it? He has been absent more than two +months. You know how he chided me for breaking the promise I made to be +mistress of that pretty cottage he proposed to build up in Tennessee. +Perhaps he is erecting it, and intends to dwell there in proud, +regretful solitude." + +"Or, perhaps he is in search of some fair lady to be its mistress, who +may prove less recreant to her promise," suggested Lester. + +"May be so," returned Winnie, laughing. + +"I look for a letter from him every day," remarked the husband; "there +was a mail-boat in when I came up to dinner. I'll call at the +post-office this evening; very possibly one has arrived." + +"I hope so," answered Winnie. + +The bell now rang, and company was announced. Leaving the young couple +to entertain their guests, we have stolen away in search of the absent +Wayland, and bring him once more on the tapis, to give some account of +his protracted wanderings, and learn what are his hopes and prospects +for the future. By what devious track we shall be pleased to pursue the +rover, our next chapter will reveal. + + + + + CHAPTER XV. + + "O, Charity, what art thou? Mystic thing!" + + +Being rather benevolently inclined ourselves, we feel a desire to look +in once more upon the "Ladies Literary Benevolent Combination for +Foreign Aid," which is to-day congregated at the residence of Mrs. +Rachel Stebbins, president of this humane and Christian body. She is +sitting in majestic presence on her throne of office, with her +gold-bowed spectacles astride her stately nose, and her devoted subjects +clustering around her, their tongues and fingers nimble as ever in the +good cause of universal philanthropy. Prominent in the ranks is Mrs. +Sykes, while ever following her, like a shadow, is her bosom friend, +Miss Jerusha Sharpwell. Mrs. Fleetfoot also appears in the rear; a sort +of shadow of a shade, or refrain to the song. Little Miss Gaddie +composes and sings alone now; her sister, Miss Pamela, having +accompanied her missionary husband to the shores of benighted Bengal, to +aid in his labors for the conversion of the heathen world. + +"Well," said Miss Jerusha, as she sank down in a soft-cushioned chair +beside Mrs. Sykes, with a pair of checked muslin night-caps in her hand; +"what's the good word with you, sister, these suffocating days?" + +"La! nothing, sister Jerusha, as I know of. My girl, Hannah, has gone +off and left me, so I have to keep close at home and slave myself with +hard work all the time, and have no opportunity to learn what's going on +about town," answered Mrs. Sykes, in a doleful voice. + +"Why, where has your girl, Hannah, gone?" asked Miss Jerusha, +sympathetically; "I never heard a word about her leaving your service." + +"She didn't leave me of her own free will;--catch Hannah to go away from +this roof, unless she was bejuggled by other folks. But she'll repent +her rashness when 'tis too late, I'm afeard," said Mrs. Sykes. + +"Why, didn't you know Hannah Smith had gone to work for the widow +Orville?" inquired Mrs. Fleetfoot, looking up from the blue yarn sock +she was knitting, which was destined, no doubt, to convert some +half-naked Burman boy from the errors of paganism. "La, I heard of it a +fortnight ago!" + +"You did,--did you, Mrs. Fleetfoot?" exclaimed Mrs. Sykes, in rather a +hasty tone; for a mild-hearted Christian; "well, she hasn't been gone +from me a week yet." + +"Do tell! Well, I heard she thought of going, then, or something like +it, I can't exactly remember what," drawled Mrs. Feetfoot, not a whit +disconcerted by the contradiction her words had received. + +"So Mrs. Orville coaxed Hannah away from you?" said Miss Jerusha. + +"Yes, just as the summer's work was coming on, too; but she'll have to +suffer for it," said Mrs. Sykes, with a fearfully resigned expression of +countenance. + +"Of course she will," returned Miss Sharpwell; "but what could Mrs. +Orville want with a hired girl,--nobody but herself and Alice in the +family? It seems a selfish, malicious desire to inconvenience you, her +coaxing Hannah off." + +"La!" put in Mrs. Fleetwood, "didn't you know Mrs. Orville had got a +whole houseful of company from the south? I knew it a month ago." + +"She hasn't got anybody in the world but two cousins of Alice's, and a +husband of one of them, and they haven't been there a week, till +to-morrow evening," said Mrs. Sykes. + +"O, is that all? Well, I heard something about it, I couldn't exactly +recollect what it was," again drawled Mrs. Fleetfoot, closing the toe of +her yarn sock, and holding it up to admire the proportions; no doubt +breathing a silent prayer that it might be useful in saving some "soul +from death." + +"Well, Mrs. Fleetfoot," observed Mrs. Sykes, "did you know that Fred. +Milder had come home from Texas to marry Alice Orville?" + +"La, yes!" responded that Christian lady; "that's an old story, +everybody knows." + +"Why, I never heard of it before," said Miss Jerusha, pinning a little +blue bow on the top of the muslin cap, to make it look _tasty_, as she +observed. + +"Neither did I," answered Mrs. Sykes, casting, as we thought, but it +could not be, however, a glance of malicious triumph on Mrs. Fleetfoot; +"but he travelled home in company with Mrs. Orville's visitors, and I +often see him walking on the lake-shore with the young, unmarried lady, +Miss Josephine, I believe, is her name; and I just thought in my own +mind that would be a match." + +"Very likely," said Miss Jerusha. + +"Well, I remember now, 'twas that strange lady I heard he was engaged +to, and not Miss Alice," remarked Fleetfoot, with perfect equanimity; +"and Alice, they say, has got a beau off south, and that's what makes +her so mopish at times." + +"Perhaps it is as sister Fleetfoot says," observed Jerusha; "for Alice +is certainly changed from what she used to be. She never attends our +circle now, and seldom goes to church. I wonder how she does pass her +time?" + +"'Tis more than I can tell," answered Mrs. Sykes; "there was always +something mysterious about those Orvilles, to me. But I shall be obliged +to go home, sister Jerusha, to attend to my work, as I've no servant," +continued the wronged lady, rising, and depositing her work in the +treasurer's box. + +"I'm sorry you must go, sister Sykes," said Jerusha; "but be of good +cheer, and I'll drop in and see you in the course of the week." + +"Pray, do, sister Sharpwell; I need all the aid and sympathy of +Christian hearts to sustain my soul," said Mrs. Sykes, with a ruefully +pious countenance, as she took her departure. + +The meeting progressed. Fast flew the nimble fingers of the devoted +laborers in the good cause; and could the poor heathen have known what +mighty exertions this band of benevolent, self-denying females, who +basked in the noontide glory of the sun of righteousness, were making +for their liberation from the thrall of pagan darkness and superstition, +we doubt not that they would have prostrated themselves by millions +before the shrine of their great idol, Juggernaut, and devoutly invoked +him to pardon and forgive the poor, deluded victims of a false religion, +and bring them all under his sublime sway and holy dominion. + +At length, Miss Gaddie was called on to sing the parting hymn. The lady +president delivered herself of a most eloquent and oratorical harangue, +during which the benevolent rose to a tremendous pitch, which nothing +could calm off but the call to supper. + +This well-furnished meal dispensed, the "Ladies' Literary Benevolent +Combination for Foreign Aid" adjourned to the next Wednesday, at the +house of Mrs. Dorothy Sykes, Highflyer Street; which Christian lady +was aghast with terror and dismay, when she learned this batch of +benevolence was assigned over to her for its next meeting. + +"O, mercy!" she feelingly exclaimed; "and I've no girl to assist me, and +my house will be turned topsy-turvy, new parlor carpet ruined,--and, +besides, they'll eat us out of house and home, and Mr. Sykes is _so_ +close-fisted!" + +"But I hope 'twill be a rainy day," she added, by way of consolation. + +Truly, benevolence does cost a great deal! + + + + + CHAPTER XVI. + + "My task is done; my song hath ceased; my theme + Has died into an echo. It is fit + The spell should break of this protracted dream. + The torch shall be extinguished which hath lit + My midnight lamp,--and what is writ, is writ; + Would it were worthier, but I am not now + That which I have been, and my visions flit + Less palpably before me--and the glow + Which in my spirit dwelt, is fluttering, faint and low." + + +The cousins, Alice Orville and Josephine Camford, sat together in a +vine-clad arbor on the shore of Lake Erie. + +"I cannot express the joy I feel at beholding you again, dear Pheny; +learning of your welfare, and finding you so happy in the contemplation +of the future," said Alice. + +"None can tell what the future may bring," answered Josephine. "All is +vague and uncertain. I never believe anything is to be mine till I +really possess it." + +"And so you won't believe Fred. Milder is yours till the nuptial knot is +tied?" said Alice, smiling. + +"No, not fully,--not without a shadow of doubt," returned Josephine, +laughing in turn. + +"But, Alice, when are you going to get married?" + +"Never!" was the quick response. + +"Nonsense! Where's that pale, intellectual young man, who used to call +so frequently on you when you first arrived in New Orleans?" + +"I have never seen or heard from him since I returned home," answered +Alice, averting her face. + +"That's nothing to the purpose, cous. I see you have not forgotten him." + +"O, no!" + +"And never will?" + +"I can't say that." + +"I can, though. Come, let's return to the house. I suspect Fred. is +waiting for me to take my promised stroll on the lake shore. How do you +like sister Susette's husband, Alice?" + +"I think him a very accomplished gentleman," replied Alice, as they +walked toward the house. + +"So I think," said Josephine. "His superior could hardly be found in any +of our large cities. Did you know poor Celestina had heard from her +faithless husband? He pleads for forgiveness and promises to return if +she will receive him. It appears he and brother Jack have amassed a +large fortune in Australia." + +"Indeed! I am rejoiced to hear so good tidings of the adventurers. Is +Celestina still in the convent to which she retired?" + +"She is; but proposes to leave it and accompany us to Texas on our +return to that country. Whether she will receive her husband I cannot +say, but will hazard an opinion that, should she one day behold him at +her feet imploring pardon, love would overpower all remembrance of +former wrongs. But there's Fred.," added the joyous-hearted girl. "I +must away to meet him." + +"Where?" asked Alice, gazing on all sides. + +"There, walking down that avenue of poplars!" returned Josephine. "I saw +him some moments since,"--love is so quick-sighted when its object is at +hand, and so abstracted when it is at a distance,--and Josephine hurried +away to meet her lover, leaving Alice to stroll onward by herself. +Presently, Hannah, the servant-girl that Mrs. Sykes, the benevolent +lady, averred had been "bejuggled" from her by Mrs. Orville, came +through the garden at full speed, exclaiming, "Miss Alice, there be a +gentleman in the parlor waitin' to see ye!" + +On hearing this message, Alice accelerated her steps to reach the house, +and retired to her room a few moments to adjust her dress before +entering the presence of her visitor. + +Reader! that truant-knight, for whom we went in search so long ago, is +found at last. + + * * * + +Far down "_la belle riviere_" floated the fairy white steamboat on its +winding-way to Louisville, while the joy-groups danced and sung by the +clear moonlight over the airy decks. + +And now once more adown the proud-rolling Mississippi, we see that +"floating-palace," the Eclipse, cutting her way through the foamy +waters. How, all day long, the verdure-clad shores smile up to the +clear, cerulean heaven that arches above! And how the moonbeams pour +their silvery light down on the sleeping earth! and all the while, by +night and day, the boat sweeps proudly onward. + +Among the hundreds of passengers that roam the decks and guards, we +recognize two familiar faces; and our eyes love to linger on them, for +they are redolent with happiness. One of them is that of the dreamy, +abstracted girl we noticed years ago, leaning over the balustrades of +this same queenly boat as she approached New Orleans. But she was alone +then. Now; a manly form is bending over her, and whispering words we +cannot hear; nor do we need to hear them to know they carry joy to the +listening ear, for her dark eye glows with happiness, as she looks +confidingly in the face of the speaker, and utters something which +brings the same joy-light over his fine, intellectual features. + +Now you do not wish us to tell you, reader, that Wayland Morris and +Alice Orville are man and wife; and that they, in company with Fred. +Milder and wife, and Susette and husband, are bound for New Orleans, to +surprise Winnie Lester in her regal home. Your intuition has revealed +all this to you e'er now, and you have pictured in your minds how blank +with amazement young Mrs. Lester's pretty face will be when she beholds +this "family-group" in her elegant drawing-room, all eager to welcome +and be welcomed, and overflowing with exuberant life and gladness, as +people ordinarily are when they get safely off one of those beautiful, +but treacherous western steam-palaces. + +All this your vivid imaginations will easily portray in far more glowing +and picturesque colors than our poor pencil can paint. So we leave you +to conjure up all the bright visions you choose with which to deck the +futures of our young debutants in the great drama of wedded life. And +some of you young writers, who thirst for fame's thorny laurels, may +touch your inspired pens to paper, and give us a sequel to this hasty, +ill-finished tale, a true production of our "fast" age. + +In conclusion, let us say, that years after these events transpired, as +the "Eclipse" passed up and down the Mississippi, on her trips to and +from New Orleans, the jocular clerk was wont to call the attention of +his passengers to a beautiful English cottage, surrounded by vines and +shrubbery, which stood on the Tennessee shore, and exclaim, "The +dwellers in that cottage learned their first lesson of love on the +guards of the Eclipse." + + + + + COME TO ME WHEN I'M DYING. + + A SONG. + + + Come to me when I'm dying; + Gaze on my wasted form, + Tired with so long defying + Life's ever-rushing storm. + Come, come when I am dying, + And stand beside my bed, + Ere yet my soul is flying, + And I am cold and dead. + + Bend low and lower o'er me, + For I've a word to say + Though death is just before me, + Ere I can go away. + Now that my soul is hovering + Upon the verge of day, + For thee I'll lift the covering + That veils its quivering ray. + + O, ne'er had I thus spoken + In health's bright, rosy glow! + But death my pride hath broken, + And brought my spirit low. + Though now this last revealing + Quickens life's curdling springs, + And a half-timid feeling + Faint flushes o'er me flings. + + Bend lower yet above me, + For I would have thee know + How passing well I love thee, + And joy to tell thee so. + This love, so purely welling + Up in this heart of mine, + O, hath it e'er found dwelling + Within thy spirit's shrine? + + I've prayed my God, in meekness, + To give me some control + Over this earthly weakness + That so enthralled my soul; + And now my soul rejoices + While sweetly-thrilling strains, + From low, harmonious voices, + Soothe all my dying pains. + + They sing of the Eternal, + Whose throne is far above, + Where zephyrs softly vernal + Float over bowers of love; + Of hopes and joys, earth-blighted, + Blooming 'neath cloudless skies, + Of hearts and souls united + In love that never dies. + + 'Tis there, 'tis there I'll meet thee + When life's brief day is o'er; + O, with what joy to greet thee + On that eternal shore! + Farewell! for death is chilling + My pulses swift and fast; + And yet in God I'm willing + This hour should be my last. + + Sometimes, when day declineth, + And all the gorgeous west + In gold and purple shineth, + Go to my place of rest; + And if thy voice in weeping, + Is borne upon the air, + Think not of me as sleeping; + All cold and silent there:-- + + But turn, with glances tender, + Toward a shining star, + Whose rays with chastened splendor + Fall on thee from afar. + And know the blissful dwelling + Where I am waiting thee, + When Jordan fiercely swelling + Shall set thy spirit free. + + + + + + ELLEN. + + + Sweet star, of seraph brightness, + That for a transient day + Shed o'er our souls such lightness, + And then withdrew the ray! + O, with immortal lustre + Thou 'rt sparkling brightly now + Amid the gems that cluster + Around Jehovah's brow! + + Yet many hearts are keeping + Lone vigils o'er thy grave, + Where all the hopes are sleeping + Which thy young promise gave. + The sleep which knows no waking + Hath closed thy sweet blue eyes, + And while our hearts are breaking + We glance toward the skies. + + Ah! there a hope is given + That bids us dry the tear; + That bright star in the heaven, + With beams so wondrous clear;-- + 'Tis Ellen's "distant Aidenn," + Far in the realms above, + And those clear rays are laden + With her pure spirit's love. + + + + + I'M TIRED OF LIFE. + + + I'm tired, I'm tired of life, brother! + Of all that meets my eye; + And my weary spirit fain would pass + To worlds beyond the sky. + For there is naught on earth, brother, + For which I'd wish to live; + Not all the glittering gauds of wealth + One hour of peace can give. + + I'm weary,--sick at heart, brother, + Of heartless pomp and show! + And ever comes some cloud to dim + The little joy I know. + This world is not the world, brother, + It seemed in days agone, + When I viewed it through the rainbow mists + Of childhood's rosy dawn. + + I would not pain your heart, brother-- + I know you love me well; + And that love is laid upon my soul, + E'en as a holy spell. + But I'm weary of this world, brother, + This world of sin and care; + And my spirit fluttereth to be free, + To mount the upper air! + + I know not of the world, brother, + To which I wish to go; + And perhaps my soul may there awake + To know a deeper woe! + They say the pure of earth, brother, + Find there undying bliss; + While all the wicked ones are cast + Into a dark abyss! + + I look upon the stars, brother, + That gem the vault of blue; + And when they tell me "God is love," + I feel it must be true; + For I see on all around, brother, + The impress of a hand + That blendeth and uniteth all + In one harmonious band. + + I am that which I am, brother, + As the Creator made; + To _Him_, all-holy and all-pure, + No fault can e'er be laid. + He knows my weakness well, brother, + And I can trust his love + To bear me safe through Jordan's stream + To brighter worlds above. + + + + + LINES TO A FRIEND, + + ON REMOVING FROM HER NATIVE VILLAGE. + + + The golden rays of sunset fall on a snow-clad hill, + As standing by my window I gaze there long and still. + I see a roof and a chimney, and some tall elms standing near, + While the winds that sway their branches bring voices to my ear. + + They tell of a darkened hearth-stone, that once shone bright and gay, + And of old familiar faces that have sadly passed away; + How a stranger on the threshold with careless aspect stands, + And gazes on the acres that have passed into his hands. + + I shudder, as these voices, so fraught with mournful woe, + Steal on my spirit's hearing, in cadence sad and low, + And think I will not hear them--but, ah! who can control + The gloomy thoughts that enter and brood upon the soul? + + So, turning from my window, while darkness deepens round, + And the wailing winds sweep onward with yet more piteous sound, + I feel within my bosom far wilder whirlwinds start, + And sweep the cloudy heaven that bends above my heart. + + I have no power to quell them; so let them rage and roar, + The sooner will their raging and fury all be o'er; + I've seen Atlantic's billows 'neath tempests fiercely swell, + But O, the calm succeeding, I have no words to tell! + + I think of you, and wonder if you are happy now; + Floats there no shade of sorrow at times across your brow? + When daily tasks are ended, and thought is free to roam, + Doth it not bear you swiftly back to that dear old home? + + And then, with wizard fingers, doth Memory open fast + A thrilling panorama of all the changeful past! + Where blending light and shadow skip airy o'er the scene, + Painting in vivid contrast what is and what has been. + + And say, does not your mother remember yet with tears + The spot where calm and peaceful have lapsed so many years? + O, would some kindly spirit might give us all to know + How much a tender parent will for a child forego! + + We prized your worth while with us; but now you're gone from sight, + We feel "how blessings brighten while they are taking flight." + O, don't forget the homestead upon the pleasant hill; + Nor yet the love-lit home you have in all our memories still! + + Come, often come to visit the haunts your childhood knew! + We pledge you earnest welcome, unbought, unfeigned and true. + And when before your vision new hopes and pleasure rise, + Turn sometimes with a sunny thought toward your native skies! + + + + + HO FOR CALIFORNIA! + + + Rouse ye, Yankees, from your dreaming! + See that vessel, strong and bold, + On her banner proudly streaming, + California for gold! + See a crowd around her gather, + Eager all to push from land! + They will have all sorts o' weather + Ere they reach the golden strand. + Rouse to action, + Fag and faction; + Ho, for mines of wealth untold! + Rally! Rally! + All for Cali- + Fornia in search of gold! + Away, amid the rush and racket, + Ho for the California packet! + + Wake ye! O'er the surging ocean, + Loud above each coral cave, + Comes a sound of wild commotion + From the lands beyond the wave. + Riches, riches, greater--rarer, + Than Golconda's far-famed mines; + Ho for California's shores! + Where the gold so brightly shines. + O'er the ocean + All's commotion; + Ho for mines of wealth untold! + Countless treasure + Waits on pleasure; + Ho for California's gold! + Let us go the rush and racket, + On the Californian packet. + + Hear the echo wildly ringing + Through our country far and wide! + Thousands leaving home and springing + Into the resistless tide. + Now our nation's roused from sleeping, + All alert and wide awake. + O, there's no such thing as keeping + Folks asleep when gold's the stake! + Old Oregon + We'll look not on; + Ho, for mines of wealth untold! + We'll take our way, + Without delay, + In search of gold--of glittering gold! + Here we go, amid the racket, + On the Californian packet! + + Yankees! all who have the fever, + Go the rush without delay! + Take a spade and don your beaver; + Tell your friends you must away! + You will get a sight o' money; + Reap perhaps a hundred-fold! + O, it would be precious funny + To sit in a hall of gold! + Let's be going, + Gales are blowing, + Ho, all hands for digging gold! + Romance throwing + Colors glowing + Round these mines of wealth untold! + Ho, we go amid the racket, + On the Californian packet! + + + + + N. P. ROGERS. + + + Rogers, will not future story + Tell thy glorious fame? + And in hues of living glory + Robe thy spotless name? + + There was more than mortal seeming + In thy wondrous eye,-- + Like a silv'ry star-ray gleaming + Through a liquid _sky_. + + Of that angel spirit telling, + Noble, clear and bright, + In thy "inner temple" dwelling, + Veiled from mortal sight! + + Of that spirit meek and lowly, + Yet so bold and free, + In its all-absorbing, holy, + Love of Liberty. + + Thou didst leave us, gentle brother, + In thy manhood's pride; + And we vainly seek another + Heart so true and tried! + + Thou art dwelling with the angels + In the spirit land! + Chanting low and sweet evangels, + 'Mid a seraph band. + + But when Freedom's champions rally + 'Gainst the despot's sway, + Then they mourn the friend and ally + That has passed away. + + And when Liberty's bright banner + Waves o'er land and sea, + And is heard the loud hosanna + Of the ransomed free,-- + + On its silken folds, in letters + Traced with diamond bright, + Shall thy name, the foe of fetters, + Blaze in hues of light! + + + + + LINES. + + + I hied me to the ocean-side; + Its waves rolled bright and high; + Upon its waters, spreading wide, + I gazed with beaming eye. + At last, at last, I said, is found + A charm to banish pain,-- + Here, where the sprightly billows bound + Athwart the heaving main. + + The pebbly beach I wandered o'er + At morn and evening's hour, + Or listening to the breakers' roar, + Or wondering at their power. + Beneath their din I madly sought, + With ev'ry nerve bestirred, + To drown for aye the demon, thought,-- + But, ah! he _would be heard_. + + He found a voice my ear to reach, + To pierce my aching breast, + In every wave that swept the beach + With proud, defiant crest. + And when the moon, with silver light, + Smiled o'er the waters blue, + It seemed to say "There's nothing bright + O'er all this earth for you." + + Scarce half a moon have I been here, + Beside the sounding sea, + In hope its echoings in my ear + Might drown out memory; + Or might instil some vital life + Into this feeble frame, + Long spent and wasted by the strife + Wide-wrought against my name. + + In vain, in vain!--nor sea, nor shore, + Nor any mortal thing, + Can to my cheek health's bloom restore, + Or clear my life's well-spring. + And yet there is a sea whose waves + Will roll above us all,-- + Within its vasty depths are graves + Beyond all mortal call. + + With what an awful note of dirge + This shoreless ocean rolls-- + Bearing on its tremendous surge + The wealth of human souls! + ----The Ocean of Eternity,-- + O, let its billows sweep + O'er one that longeth to be free, + And sleep the dreamless sleep! + + + + + HENRY CLAY. + + + Wail, winds of summer, as ye sweep + The arching skies; + O, let your echoes swell with deep, + Woe-piercing cries! + + Old ocean, with a heavy surge, + Cold, black and drear, + Roll thou the solemn note of dirge + On Europe's ear! + + Sweet stars, that calmly, purely bright, + Look down below, + O, pity with your eyes of light + A Nation's woe! + + Thou source of day, that rollest on + Though tempests frown, + Thou mind'st us of another sun + That has gone down! + + Gone down,--no more may mortal eye + Its face behold! + Gone down,--yet leaving on the sky + A tinge of gold! + + Ah, yes! Columbia, pause to hear + The note of dread; + 'Twill smite like iron on the ear;-- + Our Clay is dead! + + Our Clay; the patriot, statesman, sage, + The Nation's pride, + With giant minds of every age + Identified! + + That form of manliness and strength + In Senate hall, + Is lying at a fearful length + Beneath the pall! + + That voice of eloquence no more + Suspends the breath; + Its matchless power to charm is o'er-- + 'Tis hushed in death! + + Thrice noble spirit! can we bow, + And kiss the rod? + With resignation yield thee now + Back to thy God? + + And where, where shall we turn to find + Now thou 'rt at rest, + A soul so lofty, just and kind, + As warmed thy breast? + + We bear thee, with a flood of tears, + Unto thy tomb; + There thou must sleep till rolling years + Have met their doom! + + But thy bright fame and memory + Shall send a chime + From circling ages down to the + Remotest time! + + O, may thy mantle fall on some + Of this our day, + And shed upon the years to come + A happy ray! + + + + + THE SOUL'S DESTINY. + + + In the liquid vault of ether hung the starry gems of light, + Blazing with unwonted splendor on the ebon brow of night; + Far across the arching concave like a train of silver lay, + Nebulous, and white, and dreamy, heaven's star-wrought Milky Way. + + I was gazing, gazing upward, all my senses captive fraught, + From the earnest contemplation of celestial glories caught, + When the thought arose within me, as the ages onward roll + What may be th' eternal portion of the vast, th' immortal soul? + + When the crimson tide of Nature ceases from its ruddy flow, + And these decaying bodies mouldering are so cold and low, + And the loathsome grave-worm feeding on the still and pulseless + heart, + Where may be the immortal spirit, what may be its deathless part? + + Deep and far within the ether stretched my eyes their anxious gaze, + While the swelling thoughts within me grew a wild and wildered maze, + Then came floating on the distance, softly to my listening ears, + Low, thrilling harmonies of worlds whirling in their bright spheres. + + From the sparkling orb of Venus, sweetest star that gems the blue, + Soon a form of seraph beauty burst upon my raptured view; + Wavy robes were floating round her, and her richly-clustering hair + Lay like golden-wreathed moonbeams round her forehead young and fair. + + Then a company of seraphs gathered round this form so bright, + And unfurled their snowy pinions in those realms of crystal light, + Sweeping swiftly onward, onward with their music-breathing wings, + Till they passed the distant orbit where the mighty Neptune swings. + + Then from stormy, wild Orion, to the dragon's fiery roll, + And the sturdy Ursa Major tramping round the Boreal pole, + On to stately Argo Navis rearing diamond spars on high, + Starry bands of seraph wanderers clove the azure of the sky. + + Lofty awe and adoration all my throbbing bosom filled, + Every pulse and nerve in nature with ecstatic wonder thrilled. + O, were these bright, shining millions disembodied human souls, + That casting off earth's fettering bonds had gained immortal goals! + + On each face there beamed a brightness mortal words can ne'er + rehearse, + Seemed it the concentred glory of the boundless universe. + O, 'twas light, 'twas love, 'twas wisdom, science, knowledge, all + combined, + 'Twas the ultimate perfection of the God-like human mind! + + One by one the constellations sank below the horizon's rim, + And with grief I found my starry vision growing earthly dim; + While all the thrilling harmonies, that filled the air around, + Died off in far, sweet echoings, within the dark profound. + + Bowing then with lowly seeming on the damp and dewy sod, + All my soul in adoration floated up to Nature's God, + While the struggling thoughts within me found voice in earnest + prayer; + "Almighty Father, let my soul one day those glories share!" + + + + + LINES TO A MARRIED FRIEND. + + + There are flowers that never wither, + There are skies that never fade, + There are trees that cast forever + Cooling bowers of leafy shade. + There are silver wavelets flowing, + With a lulling sound of rest, + Where the west wind softly blowing + Fans the far lands of the blest. + + Thitherward our steps are tending, + Oft through dim, oppressive fears, + More of grief than pleasure blending + In the darkening woof of years. + Often would our footsteps weary + Sink upon the winding way, + But that, when all looks most dreary, + O'er us beams a cheering ray. + + Thus the Father who hath made us + Tenants of this world of care, + Knoweth how to kindly aid us, + With the burdens we must bear. + Knoweth how to cause the spirit + Hopefully to raise its eyes + Toward the home it doth inherit + Far beyond the azure skies. + + There's a voice that whispers lowly, + Down within this heart of mine, + Where emotions the most holy + Ever make their sacred shrine; + And it tells a thrilling story + Of the Great Redeemer's love, + And the all-bewildering glory + Of the better land above. + + O, this life, with all its sorrows, + Hasteth onward to a close! + In a few more brief to-morrows + Will have ended all our woes. + Then o'er death the part immortal + Shall sublimely rise and soar + O'er the star-resplendent portal, + There to dwell for evermore. + + May we meet, no more to sever, + Where the weary are at rest, + Far beyond dark Jordan's river, + In the Canaan of the blest. + Guard the treasures God hath given + To thy tenderest nurturing care, + And upon the fields of heaven + Thou shalt see them blooming fair. + + + + + NEW ENGLAND SABBATH BELLS. + + + Methinks I hear those tuneful chimes, + Borne on the breath of morn, + Proclaiming to the silent world + Another Sabbath born. + With solemn sound they echo through + The stilly summer air, + Winning the heart of wayward man + Unto the house of prayer! + + New England's sweet church-going bells, + Their memory's very dear; + And oft in dreams we seem to hear + Them ringing loud and clear. + Again we see the village-spire + Pointing toward the skies; + And hear our reverend pastor tell + Of life that never dies! + + We see him moving down the aisle, + In light subdued and dim; + The while the organ's swelling notes + Chant forth the grateful hymn. + The forms of those our childhood knew, + By meadow, grove and hill, + Are gathering round with kindly looks, + As if they loved us still! + + In careless hours of gladsome youth, + 'Twas our thrice-blessed lot, + To dwell upon New England's shores, + Where God is not forgot. + Where temples to his name are raised, + And where, on bended knee, + The Christian sends to heavenly courts + The worship of the free! + + New England's Sabbath chimes!--we love + Upon those words to dwell; + They fall upon our spirits with + A sweetly-soothing spell, + Bringing to mind those brighter days + When hope beamed on our way, + And life seemed to our souls but one + Pure and unclouded day! + + New England's Sabbath bells!--when last + We heard their merry chime, + The air was rife with pleasant sounds; + For 'twas the glad spring-time! + The robin to those tuneful peals + Poured forth a thrilling strain; + O, 'tis our dearest hope to hear + Those Sabbath bells again! + + For now we're many a weary mile + From that New England home; + In lands where laughing summer lies, + Our wandering footsteps roam. + But yet those sweetly-chiming bells + Those heavenward-pointing spires, + Awaken e'er the brightest glow + From memory's vestal-fires. + + + + + MY HEART. + + + List I to the hurried beatings + Of my heart; + How its quickened, loud repeatings + Make me start! + + Often do I hear it throbbing + Fast and wild; + As I've heard it, after sobbing, + When a child. + + Why so wild, so swift and heated, + Little heart? + Is there something in thee seated, + Baffling art? + + Pain with all thy throbs is blended-- + Pain so dread! + Oftentimes life seems suspended + By a thread! + + Then thou'lt grow so still--like ocean + In its rest;-- + Till I scarce can feel a motion + In my breast. + + Think'st thy house is dark and dreary, + Veiled in night? + Art thou pining, sad and weary, + For the light? + + Wouldst be free from the dominions + That control; + Spreading all thy golden pinions + Toward the goal? + + Gladly, gladly, would I free thee + From Earth's thrall! + With what bliss and joy to see thee + Rise o'er all! + + But 'tis not for me to aid thee + In thy flight; + For the Holy One who made thee, + Doeth right. + + When his own good time arriveth, + Then will He, + From the load with which thou strivest, + Set thee free. + + + + + OUR HELEN. + + + Our Helen is a "perfect love" + Of a blue-eyed baby; + When she's grown she'll be a belle, + And a "Venus," may be. + + Such a cunning little mouth, + Lips as red as cherry, + And she smiles on all around + In a way so merry. + + Laughs, and crows, and claps her hands, + Springs, and hops, and dances, + As if her little brain overflowed + With lively, tripping fancies. + + Then she'll arch her pretty neck, + And toss her head so queenly, + And, when she's weary, fall asleep + And slumber so serenely. + + She has a cunning kind of way + Of looking sly and witty, + As if to say, in baby words, + "I know I'm very pretty." + + She bites her "mammy," scratches "nurse," + And makes droll mouths at "pappy;" + We can but love the roguish thing, + She looks so bright and happy. + + The dinner-table seems to be + The crown of all her wishes, + For there the gypsy's sure to have + A hand in all the dishes. + + But why should we essay to sing + Her thousand sprightly graces? + She has the merriest of ways, + The prettiest of faces. + + We know she'll grow a peerless one, + With skin all white and pearly; + And laughing eyes, and auburn locks, + All silky, soft and curly. + + Her baby laugh and sportive glee, + Her spirit's airy lightness, + Surround the pleasant prairie home + With hues of magic brightness. + + + + + MY BONNET OF BLUE. + + + My bonnet of blue, my bonnet of blue, + Its gossamer fineness I'll sing to you; + For a delicate fabric in sooth it was, + All trimmed and finified off with gauze. + My bonnet of blue, my bonnet of blue, + How well I remember thy azure hue! + + To church I wore it, one pleasant day, + Bedecked in ribbons of fanciful ray; + And all the while I sat on my seat + I thought of naught save my bonnet so neat. + My bonnet of blue, my bonnet of blue, + Broke not my heart when I bade thee adieu? + + When service was over, my steps I bent + Towards home, a-nodding my head as I went + But, alas for my bonnet! there came a wind + And blew it away, for the strings were not pinned. + My bonnet of blue, my bonnet of blue, + What shifting scenes have been thine to pass through! + + I raised my eyes to the calm, blue sky, + There sailed my bonnet serene and high! + O, what a feeling of hopeless woe + Stole over me then, no heart may know! + My bonnet of blue, my bonnet of blue, + As clear as the sky was thy azure hue! + + 'Twas vain to mourn for my bonnet, and yet + It taught me a lesson I shall not forget; + 'Twas, never to make you an idol of clay, + For when you best love them they'll fly away. + My bonnet of blue, my bonnet of blue, + I loved thee well, but thou wert untrue! + + + + + DARK-BROWED MARTHA. + + + When the frost-king clothed the forests + In a flood of gorgeous dyes, + Death called little dark-browed Martha + To her mansion in the skies. + 'Twas a calm October Sabbath + When the bell with solemn sound + Knelled her to her quiet slumbers + Low down in the darksome ground. + + Far away, where sun and summer + Reign in glory all the year, + Was the land she left behind her, + To her simple heart so dear. + There a mother and a brother, + Meeting oft at close of day, + Spoke in tender, tearful whispers + Of the loved one far away. + + "I am thinking," said the mother, + "How much Martha'll get to know, + And how smart and bright 'twill make her, + Travellin' round the country so. + 'Spect she'll be a mighty lady, + Shinin' jewels in her ears; + But I hope she won't forget us,-- + Dat is what dis poor heart fears." + + "'Deed she won't," then spoke the brother, + "Martha'll love us just as well + As before she parted from us,-- + Trust me, mammy, I can tell." + Then he passed a hand in silence + O'er his damp and swarthy brow, + Brushed a tear from off the eyelid,-- + "O that she were with us now!" + + "Pshaw! don't cry, Lem," said the mother, + "There's no need of that at all; + Massa said he'd bring her to us + When the nuts began to fall. + The pecans will soon be rattling + From the tall plantation trees, + She'll be here to help us pick them, + Brisk and merry as you please." + + Thus they talked, while she they waited + From the earth had passed away; + Walked no more in pleasant places, + Saw no more the light of day; + Knew no more of toilsome labor, + Spiteful threats or angry blows; + For the Heavenly One had called her + Early from a life of woes. + + Folded we the tiny fingers + On the cold, unmoving breast; + Robed her in a decent garment, + For her long and dreamless rest; + And when o'er the tranquil Sabbath + Evening's rays began to fall, + Followed her with heavy footsteps + To the home that waits us all. + + As we paused beside the churchyard, + Where the tall green maples rise, + Strangers came and viewed the sleeper, + With sad wonder in their eyes; + While my thoughts flew to that mother, + And that brother far away: + How they'd weep and wail, if conscious + This was Martha's burial day! + + When the coffin had been lowered + Carefully into the ground, + And the heavy sods fell on it + With a cold and hollow sound, + Thought I, as we hastened homewards, + By the day's expiring light, + Martha never slept so sweetly + As she'll sleep this Sabbath night. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Eventide, by Effie Afton + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK EVENTIDE *** + +***** This file should be named 20185.txt or 20185.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/0/1/8/20185/ + +Produced by Curtis Weyant and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was +produced from images produced by the Wright American Fiction +Project.) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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