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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/21949-8.txt b/21949-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..7d71f44 --- /dev/null +++ b/21949-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,7186 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, Hubert's Wife, by Minnie Mary Lee + + +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: Hubert's Wife + A Story for You + + +Author: Minnie Mary Lee + + + +Release Date: June 27, 2007 [eBook #21949] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HUBERT'S WIFE*** + + +E-text prepared by Roger Frank and the Project Gutenberg Online +Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) + + + +HUBERT'S WIFE: + +A Story for You. + +by + +MINNIE MARY LEE. + + + + + + + +"There is a way which seemeth just to a man, but the end thereof leadeth +unto death."--Prov. xlv, 12. + + +Baltimore: +Published by John B. Piet +Late Kelly, Piet & Co. +Entered, according to an act of Congress, in the year 1873, by +Kelly, Piet & Company, +in the office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington, D. C. + + + +CONTENTS. + +I. A Black Conference 1 +II. The Master of Kennons 7 +III. An Interruption to Duncan's Reverie 14 +IV. Philip St. Leger 19 +V. The Missionary's Retrospect 30 +VI. Missionary Life 37 +VII. The Distinguished Traveler's Views 45 +VIII. The Visitation by Spirit and by Death 52 +IX. The New Choice 60 +X. "A Dream which was not all a Dream" 71 +XI. Althea's Guardians 77 +XII. The Christening 88 +XIII. New Mistress at Kennons 97 +XIV. China--Uncle Mat's Prayer Meeting 109 +XV. Kizzie 118 +XVI. Time and Change 126 +XVII. The St. Legers 135 +XVIII. St. Mark's or St. Patrick's? 145 +XIX. "In such an hour as ye think not" 154 +XX. Juliet 164 +XXI. "The Spider and the Fly" 172 +XXII. Althea--Death of Little Johnny 181 +XXIII. Hubert Lisle at Vine Cottage 193 +XXIV. Jealousy 201 +XXV. The Awakening 208 +XXVI. Light after Darkness 213 +XXVII. The Convert's Trials 221 +XXVIII. Mysterious Disappearance 231 +XXIX. Hubert's Second Visit 235 +XXX. "And the Sea shall give up its Dead" 240 +XXXI. Conclusion 243 + + + + +CHAPTER I. + +A BLACK CONFERENCE. + + +It was the night after the funeral. Ellice Lisle, the loving wife, +devoted mother, kind mistress, and generous friend, had been laid away +to rest; over her pulseless bosom had been thrown the red earth of her +adopted Virginia, and, mingled with its mocking freshness, was the +bitter rain of tears from the eyes of all who had known the lowly +sleeper. Even Nature joined the general weeping; for, though the early +morning had been bright and beautiful, ere the mourners' feet had left +the new-made grave, the skies had lowered, and a gentle rain descended. + +"_You_ have pity upon me, O Heaven, and you weep for me, O earth," had +exclaimed Duncan Stuart Lisle, as, leading his little Hubert by the +hand, he turned away from his lost Ellice. + +As night deepened, the rain increased, and the darkness became intense. +The house-servants, timid and superstitious, had all congregated in Aunt +Amy's cabin. Amidst their grief, sincere and profound, was yet a subject +of indignation, which acted as a sort of safety-valve to their over-much +sorrowing. + +"A nice, pretty piece of impudence it was, to be sure, when she hadn't +been in the house for five year, to 'trude herself the minute Miss +Ellice's breath had left her precious body, the poor dear!" ejaculated +Chloe, the cook, who was intensely black, and fat to immensity. + +"Much as ever Massa Duncan 'peared to notice her, not'standing she make +herself so 'ficious," said Amy, who looked more the Indian than African. + +"He never set eyes on her but once," said young China, the favorite +housemaid, whose dialect and manners were superior to those of the other +servants, "only just once, and that was when she looked at him so long +and fierce-like he couldn't actually keep his eyes down." + +"I see it my own self," added Chloe, whose small orbs were almost buried +beneath overhanging cliffs of brow and uprising mountains of cheek, "and +I'll tell you what I tinks: I tinks just den and dere, dat if we's meet +de ole one hisself he wouldn't hab no eyes, cause Misses Rusha Rush jes +done gone an' stole 'em." + +This dark reference caused a closer grouping of the sable dames and +damsels. Trembling hands drew small plaid shawls closer about the +shoulders, while one bolder than the rest cast a huge pine-knot upon the +glowing coals. + +Amy was first to break the brief silence. + +"Mighty pity Jude Rush ever fell off 'Big Thunderbolt' and broke his +slim neck! But Massa Duncan knew nuf once to let Miss Rusha 'lone; he's +not gwine to be 'veigled by none o' her hilofical airs--you may 'pend on +dat; 'specially when he's had dat sweet saint all to hisself now dese so +many year--no, neber." + +And Amy reiterated this over and over, as if to kill the secret thought +which haunted her against her will. + +"She persume to come here and order you dis way an' I dat way, an' all +us all 'round ebry which way--oo--but I gived her a piece o' my mind," +spake Margery, the weaver, very irate. + +"Umph! I never seed ye speak to her," said Amy, doubtingly. + +"Not wid my tongue, mind ye. I knows better den dat. But I jes spit fire +at her out of my eyes." + +"Fire neber burn Miss Rusha; she too ugly for dat. S'pose fire burn de +ole Nick? Den he be done dead and gone, which ain't so; derefore nuthin' +ever fall Miss Rusha; she never sick, nor die, nor drown, nor burn up. +Miss Ellice she sick, she die, 'cause she be an angel; she go home to +glory; but Miss Rusha she live, jes to trouble white folks, jes to +torment niggers." + +Wrathful Amy, as she said this, glanced triumphantly at Margery, who was +about to speak, when Chloe took the floor, figuratively. + +"Tank de Lord, we ain't de niggers what she's got to torment; and she +needn't be setting her cap for our own good Massa Duncan; she may jes +hang up high her fiddle on de willows o' Bab'lon; she sit down an' weep +on de streams; she neber hab good Massa Duncan; neber while de trees on +Kennons grow and de stars 'bove Kennons shine." + +Kennons was the name of the Lisle plantation. + +"She'd like to jine the two plantations. One is too little for her to +rule. She's allus wanted our south 'bacco patch. Her hundred niggers and +Massa's hundred would make a crew. O, she's a shrewd one; she sees +further than her nose. She'd make my shettle fly fast as Aunt Kizzie's." + +"Somebody ought to make your shuttle fly faster than is its habit, +Margery," returned China, usually quiet and gentle. "But what if you are +all mistaken, and Mistress Rush has no idea of making a rush upon +Kennons and our good master." + +"O, you poor innocent," quoth Chloe and Amy at the same time. "Haven't +we eyes? What's they for if not to see with? They ain't in the backs of +our heads neither. We've got ears too; we don't hear with our elbows. +What for did she bring nice things and pretties for Hubert? and what for +did she take such a wonderful interest in de poor baby? Bress us, is de +baby wake or sleep, or what is come of it? We's all forgettin' de dear +precious objec. Sakes alive, an' its nearly smuddered in its soft +blankets, worked so beau'fully wid its own moder's hand." + +A sleeping-powder, administered to the three days' old infant had, for a +time, quieted its incessant cries. This sudden mention brought every +dark face to bend low over the cradle, which Bessie, the nurse, had +brought hither from the house, that she might share the gossip of her +companions. + +Worn out with weeping and watching, Bessie lay prone and sleeping upon +the floor at the cradle's side. Satisfied that the baby still breathed, +Chloe, Amy, Margery, China and Dinah settled back into their seats, like +so many crows upon a branch. + +Dinah, the last-named, had been thus far fast asleep; and provoked with +herself that she had lost a share of the gossip, she gave Bessie a +vigorous push with her foot as she passed her, not through charity, nor +yet through malice, but through a sudden spasm of ill-nature. + +Bessie gave a groan and sat up. She gazed around wildly--slowly +comprehended the scene, the present, the past, and, with another groan, +flung herself upon the floor again. + +"You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Dinah, to disturb Bessie in that +way," said China, between whom and Bessie was a warm friendship. "She +has cried so, and broken her heart." + +"She needn't be in people's way, then--who's going 'round Robinhood's +barn for sake o' likes o' her?" said Dinah, complainingly. + +"Shut your mouth, black Dinah," cried Amy authoritatively. "Ye's a +pretty one to knock around a sleepin' nigger. You's been asleep yourself +the last hour. S'pose we'd all been like you--you'd been kicked into a +heap--but we ain't--and you never _did_ have a drop o' human kindness." + +"O, go 'way wid your quarreling. Dinah is jis like a firebran'; let her +'lone. What she got to do wid dis subjec-matter in han', I like a-know?" +queried Aunt Chloe, swaying up to the mantle, filling her pipe with +tobacco, and adding thereto the smallest glowing coal upon the hearth. +Meantime, while she is preparing for a smoke, her companions have taken +from their pockets, each a tin snuff-box and a mop, which mop consists +of a small twig, chewed at the end into threads or fibers. This mop, wet +with saliva, is thrust into the box of Scotch snuff, thence thrust into +the mouth, and worked around upon the teeth much to the delight and +constant spitting of the performer. This operation, so prevalent both +among white and black women of the South, is called "_dipping_ snuff." + +Having followed our sable friends from grief to indignation, and from +indignation to the charming amusement of snuff-dipping, we will enter +the house and make acquaintance with its master. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +THE MASTER'S CONFERENCE WITH HIMSELF. + + +It was late in September, and chilly for the season. A bright fire +glowed upon the hearth in the "lady's chamber" at Kennons. Red curtains +shaded the windows, and drooped in folds to the floor. Roses and green +leaves seemed springing up out of the carpet to meet the light and +warmth that radiated from the small semicircle behind the glittering +fender. A bed hung with white curtains, a dressing bureau, with its +fancy pincushion, and numerous cut-glass bottles of perfumery, a lounge +covered with bright patchwork, and furnished with log-cabin cushions, +easy-chairs and ottomans, together with the workstand and its +inseparable little basket filled with every indispensable for +needlework--all, all bore the trace of woman's hand. + +For nine years this had been the loved family-room of Duncan and Ellice +Lisle. + +Now, Ellice was forever gone. Her foot had passed the threshold, to come +in, to go out, no more. Her canary hung in the window; how could he sing +on the morrow, missing _her_ accustomed voice? Her picture hung over the +mantle, looking down with the old-time brightness upon the the solitary +figures beforefire--Duncan and his child. + +Hubert, the son, in his eighth year, sitting clasped in his father's +arms, had pierced anew that tortured heart by asking questions about his +mother and the mystery of death, which no human mind can answer. The +child was in a vortex of wonder, grief and speculation. It was the first +great lesson of his life, and he would learn it well, the more that it +was so severe and incomprehensible. But sleep and fatigue overcame +Hubert at length. The light from the fire no more danced with his +shifting curls, but settled down in a steady golden glow over the mass +that mingled its yellow-brown with the black beard of the stricken man. +For the father would not lay away his sleeping child. He held him close, +as the something, the all that was left to him of his lost love. His +head drooped low and his lips rested in a long embrace of the child's +soft wealth of hair. + +Mayhap some watching spirit took pity upon the man bereaved; for while +he gazed into the fire, the heavy pressure of the present yielded to a +half-conscious memory of the past, and a dream-like reverie brightened +and darkened, flickered and burned in and out with the red of the flame, +and the white of the ashes. + +Duncan Lisle was a boy again. With two little brothers and a half-dozen +black child-retainers, he hunted in the woods of Kennons, sailed boats +on the red waters of the Roanoke, rode break-neck races over the old +fields, despising fences high, and ditches deep, and vigorously sought +specimens of uncouth, out-of-the-way beast, bird and insect. He studied +mathematics and classics, played pranks upon one tutor, and did loving +reverence to another. He planted flowers upon his own mother's grave, +and filled the vases of his stepmother with her own favorite lilacs and +roses. He made houses, carriages, swings, sets of furniture, and all +sorts of constructions for his half-sister Della, who was his junior by +ten years at least. + +He edified, not to say terrified, the dusky crowd of juveniles with +jack-o'-lanterns, impromptu giants and brigands, false faces, fire +crackers, ventriloquism and sleight-of-hand performances. + +With a decided propensity for fun and mischief, there was also in his +disposition as evident a proclivity to seriousness and earnestness. If +it gave him delight to play off upon a stranger the joke of "bagging the +game," he enjoyed with equal ardor the correct rendering of a difficult +translation, or the solution of an intricate problem. + +If sometimes he annoyed with his untimely jest, he always won by his +manly openness and uniform kindliness of nature. He cherished love for +all that was around him, both animate and lifeless. Soul and Nature +therefore rendered back to him their meed of harmonious sympathy. + +Duncan was scarcely seventeen when the Plague swept over Kennons. That +mysterious blight, rising in the orient, traveling darkly and surely +unto the remotest West, laid its blackened hand upon the fair House of +Kennons. + +Cholera! fearful by name and by nature, it was not so strange that thy +skeleton fingers should clutch at the myriad-headed city, situate by +river and by sea, but thou wert insatiable! Proud dwellings and lowly +cots in green fields and midst waving woods thou didst not spare; for +thy victim, the human form, was there. + +In the middle of August, the skies shone over Kennons happy and fair. +Some cousins came down from the city seeking safety--bringing, alas, +suffering and death! + +In one little month, how fearful a change! + +Duncan Lisle, sitting before the fire on this sad rainy evening, after +the lapse of twenty years, shudders as he recalls the blackened pall +that seemed spread over earth and air. + +Strange to say, the disease prevailed least amongst the frightened +servants. + +The hundred were perhaps decimated. + +In the house only Duncan and his half-sister Della survived; they in +fact escaped the contagion. The father, a strong, healthy man, struggled +bravely with the fierce attack; he even rallied, until there was good +hope of his recovery. But a sudden relapse bore him swiftly beyond +mortal remedy. Duncan, in his reverie, closes his eyes, to shut out the +fearful memory. He glides over his college years and his sister's course +at school. He sees Jerusha Thornton in her youth and pride and beauty. +She waves off the many suitors in her train, only to smile winsomely at +the young master of Kennons. Her estate is equal to, and adjoins his +own. He has known her from her childhood--he loves no other--and still +he loves not her. He revolves the reason of this in his own mind. She +has beauty, wealth, accomplishments. He gives no credence to rumors of +her cruelty to servants, though aware of her haughtiness to all, and her +disdain to inferiors. The high favor which she showed to him would be +welcomed with joy by at least a half-dozen of his acquaintance. But +this, her manifest preference, did not please Duncan Lisle--there might +be no accounting for it, but it was a fact. + +What was to be done? Kennons needed sadly a woman at its head. Its +master had come to be nearly twenty-eight, and not married yet! + +The servants were in a state of terrified suspense, lest he _should_ +bring Miss Rusha as their mistress. They wished their master to +marry--they would dance for joy--but it must be some other young lady +than the heiress of Thornton Hall. + +Delia had been to a Northern school nearly five years; she would soon be +eighteen, and was about to graduate. + +As very young girls, Della and Rusha had known each other. For many +years, however, having been at different schools they had rarely met. + +Duncan held a faint impression that his half-sister had never been at +all partial to this near neighbor of his. She was coming home so soon, +he had such confidence in her judgment and womanly intuitions, he would +await her coming, and see if she could divine why it was that while he +_would_ be attracted to Rusha Thornton he could not. + +Besides, Della was not returning home alone. Ellice Linwood had been for +five years her most intimate chosen friend, and room-mate. Ellice was +the only child of a widowed Presbyterian clergyman. Her father had spent +all he had to bestow upon her, in her education. This being thorough and +complete, in the way such terms are used, she was henceforth to support +herself by teaching. + +In order to avoid a deplorable separation, these two young friends had +put their wits together, and lo, the result! Through Della's good +brother Duncan, a situation had been secured for Ellice in the family of +Col. Anderson, not over six miles from Kennons. They would speedily +become excellent equestrians, these friends, and annihilate the narrow +space every day in the year. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +AN INTERRUPTION TO DUNCAN'S REVERIE. + + +Duncan Lisle, still gazing vacantly into the varying flames, performed +anew the journey, not from Kennons to Troy on the Hudson, but from the +latter city, via New York, back to his Virginian plantation. His sister +and Ellice Linwood were his companions, for it had been arranged that, +though Ellice's session of school was not to commence for a couple of +months, yet she should thus early undertake the journey for sake of the +company; and Della's home was to be hers also in the intervening time. + +Della and Ellice! They flitted hither and thither before Duncan's mental +vision, as they had on that memorable journey. Just free from the +irksome restraints of the school-room, full of joyous anticipations, +they gave way to that girlish gayety, and that unbounded enthusiasm, +which a thorough sense of happiness and enjoyment cannot fail to +inspire. Life was before them beautiful, glorious, and without end! This +was only nine years ago--and now! + +As we look through Duncan's eyes, we see that Della was the taller and +more graceful of the two. Her hair and complexion were rather dark than +fair; long, dark eyelashes shaded eyes deep blue, dreamy and wondrous +in expression. We never mind much a nose, unless it be ugly to a +deformity, or a model for the sculptor. An Angelo would have thrilled at +sight of Della's nose, and straightway wrought it into immortality, +_alto relievo_. Her mouth and chin were as lovely and divinely rounded +as any Madonna's. The shape of her head was superb; and she wore her +hair, which was truly a glory in itself, somewhat like a crown, which +left her finely curved ear liberty to show itself and to hear everything +that was going on. Many would have rhapsodised over her lithe, slender +form. Not we. More admirable that faithful approach to those olden +models of the human form that exist in artists' studios and adorn grand +rooms of princely connoisseurs. + +Nature is everywhere lovely. Had the ancient Greeks chiselled but the +wasp waists of our modern belles, their hideous works would have sunk +into oblivion in as little time as our self-made martyrs drop into early +graves. + +Not saying that Della Lisle, whose waist you could _not_ "span with your +two hands," had foolishly contributed to make less its natural size, but +it was painfully suggestive of weakened lungs and an early translation. + +Ellice, on the contrary, possessed a low, plump figure, all curve and +dimple, with no appearance of angularity or stiffness. She had a fair, +round face, cheeks in which roses came and went, laughing blue eyes, a +wide, low brow, auburn curls, nose not _retroussé_, but the least bit +inclined that way, white teeth, somewhat large, but pretty, that really +_did_ look like pearls between such cherry-red lips. + +You might stand in respect and admiration before the dignified and +intellectual Della Lisle; but Ellice Linwood you would take to your +heart. If you were gay, she would laugh with you; if serious, she would +become pensive; if sick, she would soothe and comfort you. + +She was the most unselfish creature in existence. Self-denial ceased to +become such to her; her happiness was in yours alone. + +All things about the plantation brightened in presence of these two +young maidens. Old servants grew more youthful, the young wiser and +happier, and all, from black to brown, from young to old, as they looked +upon the bright face of the northern stranger, turned dreamer and +prophet. And this is what they dreamed and wished and foretold: that +Master Duncan would make Ellice his wife and keep her forever. + +And Duncan? Well, while such a spirit of prophecy reigned all around +him, it is not to be supposed that it fell not on him also. He thought +no more of seeking from his wise sister the solution of his antipathy to +Miss Thornton. There was no room in his mind now for aught outside his +home. + +In three weeks he asked Ellice to be his wife. The same day he +dispatched a letter to the Principal of the Troy Ladies' Seminary, +soliciting a teacher for Colonel Anderson; another message, also, to the +father of his affianced, begging him to come down at once and perform +the marriage ceremony for his daughter. + +This was doing up business very expeditiously. Of course it was soon +noised near and far, that great quantities of snow-white cake were being +made at Kennons kitchen. Servants would talk; little pitchers had ears, +and birds carried news. + +Miss Thornton went in state to call upon the strangers. She saw at a +glance how matters stood, or were going to stand. She could have torn +out Ellice's happy heart. As it was, she bowed to all haughtily as a +queen, casting her last contemptuous glance at Miss Linwood's face. + +Miss Thornton ordered to be driven rapidly homeward; and, as she was +whirled along, her thoughts, in a swifter whirl, she meditated and +resolved. + +Before the bewildered clergyman could make his way down from the North, +before the goddess of Rumor herself had even suspected such a thing, +Miss Thornton's whole retinue of suitors, and the people at large were +electrified by the astounding intelligence that Mr. Harris, from Flat +Rock, had been summoned to Thornton Hall to unite in marriage its +beautiful mistress, Miss Jerusha Thornton, to Doctor Jude Rush! + +Dr. Jude Rush had the year previously emigrated to Mecklenburg county +from the State of Maine. There was about him nothing so extraordinary as +to require particular description. He was an ordinary country doctor, +about thirty in years, had sandy hair, was sandy complexioned, and wore +sandy clothes. This is not much to our taste, but then we did not marry +him. We will assert, however, that had we been Madam Jerusha Thornton +Rush, our first business would have been to engage him a black suit at +the tailor's; but not a bottle of hair dye. We believe in adhering to +nature, though insisting that nature can be much assisted, particularly +in the matter of dress. + +Duncan Lisle had naught for which to reproach himself. He had never made +love to Miss Thornton, or given her reason for believing himself +otherwise than indifferent. It had, however, been to him a source of +uneasiness, this very knowledge of her unmistakable partiality for him. +Of this he was quite relieved at news of her marriage, which news he +received, with a bountiful supply of bridal cake, as soon as possible +after the ceremony. He chewed his cake and sweet fancies of Ellice +together. A week later, Mrs. Rush threw _his_ wedding cake to the dogs, +her own _bitter_ fancies being sufficient for her to consume. + +Faithful memory is on a race to-night, and she hurries Duncan Lisle from +the beautiful picture of Ellice, his bride, over ground of a year or +two, to that other picture, no less dear, that of Ellice, the mother of +his child. The rose has paled a little in her cheek, but the love-light +is in her eye; and can he ever, ever forget how, though he never called +himself a Christian, his heart almost burst with thanksgiving to God +when he clasped in his arms his world, his all--wife and child! + +Three years from the other wedding, and another takes place at Kennons. +Philip St. Leger has finished his course at Princeton, and come to take +away his long-promised bride. The first wedding had been altogether +joyous; this second was saddened and sorrowful. Della had become the +wife of a missionary, and was to go at once to New York, taking ship +thence to Turkey. + +The cruel separation had come then at length to the tried and true +friends; it might, nay, probably would, be forever in this world. + +In the light of memory, Duncan beholds his sister for the last time. +She is very dear to him, one only more dear. He turns to comfort Ellice; +but Ellice, brave, heroic, crushes down her grief to comfort him. + +With Della gone, the wife appears alone in the succeeding years. Alone, +but ever bright and shining, whether amid her ebony domestics, or +enthroned as wife and mother. Patient, cheerful, wise, and kind. + +O, Ellice Lisle! model of all womanly virtues! Shall a Cady Stanton +preach to such as thou? How wide with wonder and dismay would open those +frank blue eyes at windy declamations about woman's rights, woman's +freedom, and man's tyranny. + +Woman voluntarily assumes the _chains_ of matrimony. Be they of iron or +of silk, the good wife discovereth not; for it is only in an unholy +struggle that they bind and fetter. + +Memory was hurrying Duncan Lisle apace to-night; scenes in the last few +years shifted with surprising rapidity; everywhere Ellice was the +centre-piece, her fair, pleasant face beaming from its framework of +brown curls, that were almost ever in perpetual motion from the frequent +toss of the busy little head. + +But memory, though faithful, was pitiful, and kept presenting, one after +another, undarkened pictures, full of glow and sunshine; she had not +come down to the last three days of suspense and pain, of agony and +desolation. Ere that cruel curtain of gloom should shut from the +dreamer's eye his pleasant fancies, and with them the dying flames, the +loud barking of dogs, soon succeeded by hurried steps and voices, +aroused the half-conscious master of Kennons to the stern reality of the +present moment. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +PHILIP ST. LEGER. + + +Duncan Lisle, at once thoroughly aroused, laid his sleeping child upon +the lounge, and then hastily opening the door, which led upon the +veranda, encountered the bronzed face and flashing eyes of his +brother-inlaw, Philip St. Leger. Now this gentleman from Turkey was not +a ghost, nor had he rained down. A staunch ship had brought him from +Constantinople to New York; a week he had spent with his friends at +Troy; the lightning express, then so-called, from the latter city to +Richmond; thence a stage had set him down at Flat-Rock; here, public +conveyance went no farther. The best and only means of transportation +was on horseback. The roads were in too wretched a condition for the +"Bald Eagle's" one rickety carriage to attempt to plough through. + +The returned missionary, almost distracted with care and fatigue, made a +virtue of necessity. With black Sam as guide, he set off amid the rain +and darkness for Kennons. + +"It were better," he said, mentally, "that I should myself remain until +the morning; but having come so far, so near, I should be on thorns; I +must go." + +Philip St. Leger was not a Virginian by birth. He was a native of the +city at whose distinguished school Della Lisle had graduated. Only on +the day of graduation and at the time of her marriage had the brother +and husband of Della met. + +It was a sad meeting now, on this dreary night. These men, still in the +flush of manhood, clasped hands, and looked into each others' eyes, with +a despairing, inquiring eagerness. + +Their chill fingers were scarce unlocked when Duncan asked: + +"And did you come alone?" + +"I brought her child; but Della-- I left her sleeping beneath the +shadow of the minarets." + +Duncan stamped his foot. His cup of sorrow had been full. He had quaffed +with what patience possible its bitter draughts, and still were they +poured in afresh. + +"I wrote you particulars of her death a year ago: I learned at Flat-Rock +that you never have received the mournful tidings. I learned also"--but +his voice trembled, and he could not go on. + +"Of the sudden death of my wife. Good God! it may as well be spoken. +Yes, she was to-day buried out of my sight." + +"O, my friend, speak not with such wildness." + +"But all is gone--all but dreary, wretched, useless life. O, what a +world!" + +"See here, my good brother," said the missionary, in a more cheerful +tone, "I have come a long journey; I am tired to death, wet through, +hungry, and cold." + +Before he had finished, Duncan's hand had rang the bell violently. His +right-hand man, Grandison, appeared. In a brief space of time, the fire +was replenished, dry clothes produced, a small table of refreshments +spread in the same cheery room, and the missionary, with commendable +zeal, proceeded to refresh the inner man. + +Duncan paced the floor in a desperate manner. The missionary paused +amidst his slices of cold chicken and ham, and thus addressed him: + +"My friend, I am greatly distressed for you, but that helps you nothing. +I have been through the same fiery trial; and I not only believed, but +wished I might not survive the ordeal. I would not eat nor sleep, but +grieved incessantly. It was so sudden, so unforeseen. Was it not +singular that Della and Ellice, loving each other so well, should have +gone so near each other and in the same way? That is hardest of all; +martyrs were they in a true sense. But I had a friend, who aroused, +warned, and induced me to eat, sleep, and go on with the duties of life. +After one first great effort it is easier. If one must suffer, he may +assuage his pain by bearing it bravely. The over-tending of a wound may +produce worst consequences. Exposure to the air, frequent ablutions, +occasional frictions, create healing processes, reduce sensitiveness, +and restore somewhat of the old life and vigor. I dare say you have not +eaten a mouthful to-day; come eat, drink with me. I will not preach you +a sermon, but let us philosophize like sensible men." + +Thus solicited, Duncan drew up his chair opposite his friend. With +evident disgust he swallowed the first mouthful, but this morsel seemed +to awaken appetite, and he made a respectable meal. + +Having thus broken his involuntary fast, he felt, in a sense, refreshed, +and producing some fine cigars, the friends sat down before the fire, +where, looking through the blue wreaths, they seemed to gain a soothing +and an inspiration. The missionary gave to his host a brief history of +his life with Della, of her sickness and death, and then incidentally +gave a sketch here and there of his own youth. We will commence where he +left off, giving but the substance in brief, instead of his own words, +so often interspersed with irrelevant allusions and interrupted by +remark and question. + +Philip St. Leger was the son of a sea captain. His youth, of course, he +spent mostly at school, its monotony varied more than once by a +prolonged voyage with his father at sea. His mother was a woman of +society, and left her children much to the care of servants. +Consequently, she had much trouble with them in after years. Philip was +the oldest child. He was naturally good-dispositioned and tractable; +but, owing to a false system of training, became headstrong and +altogether beyond maternal control. + +At the age of nineteen, after a wild and fruitless career at college, +and after repeated suspensions, he was really expelled near the +beginning of the senior year. To his parents this was a severe +mortification, and his father, being at that moment at home, sent him to +some distant cousins, who lived among the white hills of New Hampshire. + +Colonel Selby, in whose family Philip found himself domiciled, was a +fine specimen of the country gentleman. Genial, hospitable, full of wit +and anecdote, he was also a member of the Baptist Church, an ex-Senator +of the United States, and ex-Governor of his own State. His eldest son +was married, his youngest still in college, and his only daughter, about +the age of twenty-two, was still an almost idolized child beneath her +father's roof. The mother of these children had died a few years +previously, and a widow from the city had supplied her place in the +father's home and heart. + +Philip St. Leger, black-haired, black-eyed, melancholy and romantic in +look, cityfied and aristocratic in air and manner, attracted much +attention among the simple people of the quiet town of Newberg. He could +not help perceiving that, for the first time in his life, he had become +a veritable lion. The very fact that he was Col. Selby's guest and +relative gave to him importance; another fact, that he was the son of a +wealthy sea captain from a distant city, was all-powerful. + +It had indeed crept out somehow that he had been wild and extravagant, +that he had been sent to rusticate among rocks and hills so sterile +there would be little chance for his wild acts to take root; but then, +to some old ladies and young ones too, this rumor lent but additional +interest. + +"Poor boy! what else could one expect? With such comeliness of person, +endless wealth, unlimited advantages--the only wonder was he was not +completely ruined." And he was compassionated and pitied for being +obliged to remain in so old-fashioned and out-of-the-way country town as +insignificant Newberg. + +This pity was quite thrown away. Philip St. Leger was in his element; he +had never been so happy in his life; Newberg was made up of hills, in +the midst of grander mountains; it nestled in the western shadow of +Keansarge; and King's Hill and Sunapee reared loftily around her their +bold bleak fronts. A beautiful lake of the same name lay blue and clear +at Sunapee's foot. "Pleasant Lake" lay in another direction, famous for +its delicious trout and fragrant pond lilies. + +Philip, the young scapegrace from city and from college, was in an +ecstacy; he had never beheld skies so blue, lakes so fair, landscapes so +lovely; with every breath he seemed to draw in life, vigor, and a new +sense of beauty. Every morning he was up at sunrise, scouring the +country upon the back of Nellie, a graceful, fleet young mare which Col. +Selby had generously set aside for his use. Maids, matrons, and small +boys stood in gaping amaze, stool in one hand and milk pail in the +other, watching half-fearfully, half-admiringly, the fearless young +equestrian, who shot by like a comet, his long, black hair streaming in +the wind. + +It was Philip's delight to create this stare and wonder, to which poor +Nellie was obliged to contribute still more than her young master's +pleasure. If he could leap over some low garden wall, dart over a famous +strawberry bed, or amidst the melon patch, he thought he had done +something splendid. The owner's dismay, not alone at the ruin, but at +the untamed spirit that dared it, gave him peculiar delight. + +Those old ladies who found their fattest goose dangling half-dead from +the apple-bough in the early morning, or who looked in vain for patient +cows within the yard, whose bars had mysteriously disappeared, began +less to admire this youthful metropolitan. + +Complaints poured in upon Col. Selby. At first he laughed and made light +of them; then he consulted his wife. She was a staid, proper person, +careful of the family's good name and popularity. It would never do. +Philip ought to have some sense of what was due to his host; since he +had not, he must be put in mind of it. She would undertake the task +herself. + +This she did, but without effect. Philip had promised sorrow and +amendment with a long face, but inwardly he laughed, and after, became +seven times worse than before. + +Complaints multiplied. Not only were geese and cows interfered with, but +dogs and horses were found tied to saplings or shut up in most +unimaginable places. Burdocks and thistles appeared in meeting-house +pews, where they surely had never before been known spontaneously to +spring; teachers in the Sunday school were shocked to learn that they +had distributed dime novels with books and tracts. The minister, one +morning in the pulpit, solemnly opened his Bible, and unexpectedly +beholding a most ludicrous picture, laughed outright, to the great +scandal of every looker-on. + +Now this was too much. Mrs. Selby had passed by stories of green-apple +showers falling upon homeward-bound school children's heads; she had +even smilingly held her peace when laughingly assured that a troop of +dogs and cats had gone madly wailing and howling through the streets, a +miniature world flaming with fire attached by means of wires to each +caudal appendage--even that was too much decidedly. But this tampering +with the meeting-house! Mrs. Selby consulted first her husband, as in +duty bound; that is, she called him aside, told him the latest pranks of +their protégé, and emphatically added that there should be an end of +them. + +"But wife, I cannot turn the boy out of my house." + +"You need not, my dear; that is my privilege, particularly since he is +_my_ relative, not yours. Forbearance now would cease to be a virtue; +there is a limit to human endurance; there shall at once be an end to +this boy's mad pranks. He is on the piazza, perhaps studying some new +mischief; send him in to me, please." + +"But are you not too hasty, wife?" urged the soft-hearted ex-Governor, +who remembered his own follies and frolics of long ago. + +"Too hasty, when we have all borne so much? Gov. Selby"--with a +smile--"allow your wife to command you; send that naughty boy hither." + +An hour later, Philip having sought her in house and garden, stood in +presence of Mary Selby, at last discovered in her attic studio. + +"Your mother has banished me; she has already spoken the fatal words; I +must leave Newberg, this garden spot of God's glorious earth--most of +all, I must leave you, cousin Mary, and I shall be lost, forever lost," +exclaimed this strange youth, in tones melodramatic. + +Mary laid aside her palette and brushes. + +"Why then, cousin Phil, haven't you done better, after so many repeated +warnings?" + +"It is easy for _you_ to ask that question, and you can answer it better +than can I. Why do you not ask the wind why and whence it blows? Why do +the waters overflow their banks, why ocean waves engulf life-freighted +ships?" + +"No, Philip, there is no analogy. Be reasonable; you are a being of +will; you can do or not do. He is only a child who exercises no +self-control, who is governed only by caprice, whim, or whatever passion +of the moment. These follies, of which my mother makes account, and +rightly, are beneath one of your age. There is in them nothing +ennobling, charming; nothing that should gratify a mind that has the +faintest conception of the good, the beautiful, and the true." + +"I suppose so, cousin. But I have so long indulged in this fun-loving +propensity"-- + +"That it has grown into an inveterate habit. Is this, then, a part of +your better nature? Is there no depth beneath this evanescent +surface--froth and foam? I believe there is. But in order that it may be +discovered to the light and made fit for cultivation, this trivial +surface-crust must be turned under, kept down, lest light and heat +nourish its weeds into luxuriance." + +"Why have you not talked to me thus before? _You_ could do anything with +me, cousin Mary." + +"I will tell you the truth, Philip, because I think I owe it you. I went +not with you to ride or walk, I have kept myself aloof from you, because +my parents thought you too wild for my association." + +"I am not a bear, and I might be better than I seem," said the proud +boy, humbly. + +"Yes, Philip, I believe you. And I have often thought I might do you +good. Had you been my brother I should not have hesitated; but I had a +suspicion that you might regard any persuasions or lectures from me as a +piece of self-righteousness, for which you might have, as do I, supreme +contempt." + +"O, no, cousin. You are the best woman in the world. I would do anything +for you." + +"Leave off all of those mischievous pranks which are the cause of your +present disgrace?" + +"Yes, even that--and more. But it is too late now. I go to-morrow." + +The result of this and still further conversation to the same effect +produced a conviction upon the mind of Mary that the spoiled child was +not beyond hope of redemption. She laid the case before her parents, +and, with the aid of her father, obtained a reluctant consent from her +mother that one more trial might be given the recreant Philip. + +Even without this Mary would have gained her point, for on the next +morning Philip, burning with fever, was unable to leave his bed. + +A severe attack of typhoid ensued. + +When Philip St. Leger, after a dangerous illness of many weeks, became +convalescent, he was a changed person. Not alone through the influence +of Mary, but Colonel Selby, and especially his wife, were brought to +realize how prone they had been to reproach and condemn without having +made the slightest efforts to reform. A neglected, untutored, +un-Christianized young man had been placed in their care--was it too +late to redeem the past? No effort was left untried, though exercised +with the greatest delicacy to bring the young heathen's mind to a proper +state of its former unhealthfulness, of its present pressing needs. + +Mary read to him biographies of the good and great. She read ennobling +works of poetry and counsel. She brought before his mind by example how +superior was earnestness to trivialty, strict integrity to knavery and +falsehood, goodness and piety to wickedness and infidelity. As she read +and commented, her voice became to Philip as the voice of an angel. Her +work was indeed accomplished when, after having listened to her +rendering of St. Paul's grand epistles, there sprang up in his heart, +first: "Almost thou persuadest me to be a Christian;" then this full, +heart-swelling sympathy with the Apostle's words: + +"For I am persuaded that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor +principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor +height, nor depth, nor any creature, shall be able to separate us from +the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord." + + + + +CHAPTER V. + +THE MISSIONARY'S RETROSPECT. + + +Though Philip St. Leger would have done, in almost all things, as Mary +Selby directed, upon one certain point he was inflexible. This was upon +the subject of immersion; he would not go down into the waters of Lake +Sunapee, following the custom of the Newbergians. + +During his boyhood his mother had been a member of the Presbyterian +society; latterly, for some good reason or other, she had made a move +into the Episcopal; whether through whim for popularity, or for +conscience' sake was best known to herself. Her puritanical cousin, Mrs. +Col. Selby, and a very worthy woman she was, regarded Mrs. St. Leger as +a heretic, and looked upon the troubles with her children as a just +punishment for having left the Church of her fathers. She had herself, +however, meantime made very considerable concessions to her own +religious convictions. For, while stoutly believing in sprinkling, in +infant baptism, in open communion, and in each and every tenet of +Presbyterianism, she had actually been received into the Calvinistic +Baptist Church! What an unheard-of thing! It created no little talk +among the good people of Newberg, and more for this reason: Mrs. Job +Manning, a farmer's wife, who dutifully assisted her husband in earning +a frugal living on the rocky sides of King's Hill, having been a +Congregationalist, had been refused years previously, admittance to this +same Church. She was poor, had a family of young children, had no way of +traveling thirty miles to her own nearest meeting-house, and had humbly +begged, with her husband, who was already a good Baptist, to be received +into the Church. Failing this, since she could not consent to immersion, +and shrank from the doctrine of close communion, she, or rather her +husband, demanded that she might be allowed to partake occasionally of +the Lord's Supper. + +Rev. Mr. Savage, and the dignified Deacon Gould, and his equally +dignified colleague, Deacon Drake, gazed very solemnly down upon the +communion table, pursing up their mouths most decidedly, as if a +sacrilege had already been committed by so astounding a proposition. Of +course the duty fell upon Mr. Savage, the minister, to declare before +all present that the demand of brother Manning, in behalf of his wife, +was unreasonable, incomprehensible, and un-Christian. + +Was Mrs. Manning a Christian? Then let her be baptized in a Christian +manner, and thereby show herself worthy to eat the bread and drink the +wine. Until such time there could be no admittance. + +The two solemn-looking deacons on either side of the dogmatic speaker +raised approvingly their eyes, and after balancing themselves a moment +upon their toes, settled back upon their heels as grave and decorous as +before. + +Brother Job Manning arose hastily, and said: + +"My wife, Nancy Manning, is as good a Christian woman as the town of +Newberg holds. I eat with her at home, thank God, and if she ain't good +enough to eat with me at the table of the Lord, then I ain't good enough +neither, and you can have it all to yourselves." + +And Job Manning, somewhat angry, it must be confessed, strode out from +the assembled body of Christians, up to his pew in the side aisle, and +plucking his wife by the sleeve, who arose and followed him, marched out +of the Baptist church for good and all. + +But in the case of Mrs. Colonel Selby it was altogether different. She +was a woman of wealth and influence. She could do so very much for the +Baptist church, it would never do to offend her. And the Colonel was so +devoted to her, he might go off in a huff as poor Job Manning had done, +and stand it out to the bitter end. It was a dilemma, no disputing about +that. A bad precedent, more particularly after the precedent in the +Manning case. But it _must_ be got along with, and it _was_, and Mrs. +Colonel Selby, a strict and ultra Presbyterian, always open and +outspoken, became an honored member of this closely-guarded Baptist +fold. What was to hinder? Who was to say, why do you so? No bishop with +his interdict, no Pope with his "thunders from the Vatican." Here was +one of the beauties of the Protestant system. + +"System," says Webster, "is an assemblage of things adjusted into a +regular whole, or a whole plan or scheme consisting of many parts +connected in such a manner as to create a chain of mutual dependencies." +It is not at all strange that Protestantism should protest against this +definition, and should establish its own instead: An assemblage of +things so adjusted and built up as that they may easily be rearranged or +completely demolished as occasion may require, or a whole plan or scheme +consisting of many parts so connected as to create a gossamer-thread of +mutual independencies. + +Mrs. Selby was too shrewd and sensible not to see the inconsistency +involved. But then she was quite used to inconsistencies. Moreover, she +deemed herself quite in the right, and the Baptist Church had mounted +upon the plane it behooved itself to stand; at all events, it must +answer for its own right and wrong doing, as Mrs. Selby expected to +answer for her own. + +Mary Selby sought not to influence Philip in the matter of his baptism. +She saw where his inclination tended and was silent. He accompanied his +mother's cousin to her native city, and was there received into the +First Presbyterian by Mrs. Selby's venerable and beloved friend, Rev. +Mr. Storrs. + +Colonel Selby used his influence in infringing upon the college rules of +Dartmouth, and the young man, expelled from one college, was received +into another. So bad use had he made of his former advantages that he +was obliged to go back to the sophomore year; even here he had to study +early and late to maintain his position. + +After three years of assiduous diligence, he graduated with honor, when, +for the first time since the day of his disgrace, he visited his +paternal home. + +His fashionable mother viewed her handsome, scholarly son, not only +with amazement, but with pride and satisfaction. His three sisters, all +grown into womanhood, the youngest being sixteen, were at first rather +shy of him. They had not forgotten how he used to annoy and vex them. +They early perceived the change, and became distressingly fond of him. +It would be so nice to have an elder brother to go with them everywhere. +And such a brother! so fine-looking, who had an air so distinguished, a +face so poetical and classical! O, wouldn't all the other girls envy +them this splendid brother? They would make a grand party, and exhibit +him at once. + +What was their dismay on finding that he absolutely refused to show +himself to the guests! The wealthiest, most learned, most _élite_ of the +city were all in the drawing-rooms, beauty and fashion were in full glow +and flow, music all atremble to stir into life, bright eyes were +flashing expectation, and dainty lips had sweet words waiting to say, +and he would not appear! In vain the mother coaxed, flattered, and got +angry; in vain the sisters pleaded, begged, cried, and insisted. He was +inexorable. But they had made the party on purpose for him! + +Why had they not informed him sooner? He could have saved them all the +trouble and disappointment. He could have told them he was no lion, and +would not be paraded. He had not been in society for three years; he was +never again going into society. + +This, then, came of going off into the country! Buried alive. Come out +so peerless and beautiful, and all to no purpose! He might just as well +have been a grub! + +By great efforts the mother and daughters choked down their wrath and +mortification, bathed their swollen eyes, put on fresh lily white and +carmine, and joined their guests. What should they have for an excuse? +O, a sick headache--sudden and distressful--he was subject to them; poor +Philip! + +Later in the evening, Estelle St. Leger led Della Lisle up to her own +room. They were passing through the hall. Opposite her door, Estelle +stooped to lace her slipper, for which purpose she had left the +drawing-room. + +"So he has no headache," said Della, "and absents himself only from +aversion to society?" + +"That is all," replied Estelle, pettishly. "Isn't he stupid?" + +"No, I just begin to think right well of him. I have no respect for some +of those effeminate butterflies down stairs, who say only silly +nothings, because, forsooth, they think we can appreciate nothing +better, or because they have nothing better to offer." + +"But I thought you were quite captivated with Edward Damon? You two, for +the last half hour, have seemed to be unconscious that there was aught +else in the world save that one corner that held you." + +"Edward Damon is an exception. He is intelligent, unaffected, and +agreeable. He is not all simper and softness. He can talk with one +without being lost in his own self-conceit, fancying you deep in +admiration of his own charming self. Yes, I really like Edward Damon." + +The shoe was laced, and the girls passed on, but the voice of Della +Lisle seemed still to linger upon the ears of Philip. His own door +opened upon the hall very near to the waiting girls; he had heard every +word. First, the voice of Della was pleasant and gentle; it powerfully +attracted him; second, her words were not those of an ordinary city +lady. + +"A sensible girl, that--Della, Estelle called her; a pretty name. And +Edward Damon is there, it seems, the best fellow I ever knew. Who knows? +Maybe a shoe-string influences my fate. At all events, I am influenced +in a way I may not resist." + +And Philip St. Leger, with extraordinary inconsistency, soon appeared +among his mother's guests. There was but one drawback to the joy and +gratification of that mother and the three sisters--his necktie was not +of the very latest style. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +MISSIONARY LIFE. + + +In falling in love with Della Lisle at first sight, Philip pleased +himself only and his sister Estelle; that is, if we leave Della out. His +mother had the tall, graceful daughter of a millionaire selected for +him; Leonora, the elder sister, had her pet friend Miss De Rosier, +secretly engaged and under promise; Juliet, the younger, wished him +never to fall in love, never to marry, but to remain forever her dear, +only, adorable brother Philip, for whom she would give up all the world +and live a maiden to the end of her life. + +This engagement with Della, however, was not the worst that might be. +They discovered this to their discomfiture when shortly after he +announced to them one morning at the breakfast-table that on the +following week he should leave for Princeton. + +A theological course at Princeton! A true-blue Presbyterian, a +long-faced, puritanical minister, who would deem it a sin to laugh, +speak, or wink on a Sunday. And this was what their brother was coming +to. This was why it had been impossible to get him to go with them to +St. Mark's Church, though they had told him how beautifully _High_ +Church it was; how it had a high altar and candles, almost like the +Romanists, only that it was not at all Romish, but entirely and truly +Catholic! Was ever such like woful perversity? When they had just got a +brother to be proud of, who could take them to theatres, concerts, +balls, operas, and everywhere, for him to go and degenerate into an old +solemn Presbyterian minister! It would be bearable, if he must be a +minister, if he would only be a High Churchman, and would be called a +priest, and wear the surplice, and read the service in his charming +voice, and be rector of such a fine, rich church as our own St. Mark's! +They could put up with that, because he could still go with them to +places of amusement, and would not be likely to scold them for dancing +all night and sleeping all day. Besides, his praise would be in +everybody's mouth, he would speedily get a D. D. to his name, the ladies +would all admire him, and he would still be their own, own brother. They +wished he had never seen Newberg, nor Colonel Selby's family, nor +Dartmouth College. They forgot or were ungrateful for his transformation +from a state of good-for-nothingism to comparative Christian virtue. + +Philip perceived and was pained at the folly and frivolousness of his +mother's household, but any attempt at change more favorable appeared to +him so herculean, that he made scarcely an effort in its behalf. He was +conscious that therein lay neglect of duty; they might owe to him what +he owed to Mary Selby. Often when he thought of her he bowed his head +reverently, and said: I have two saviours--an earthly and a +heavenly--Mary Selby and my Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ. + +To the near relatives of Philip his going to Princeton was so much like +burying him, that when, after three years, he returned finally to his +home and announced that in one month he was both to marry and sail as +missionary to Turkey they were scarcely surprised. They made no outcries +and no ado; they had given him up long ago; he would be no company for +them in their rounds of gaiety and fashion; he might as well be teaching +heathens or Musselmen in the kingdoms of the Brother to the Sun as a +dry, dull parson in America, ever in danger of offending their +aristocratic tone and ideas by his sober, old-fashioned notions. + +After his marriage, before embarking for Turkey, Philip, with his bride, +paid a visit to Newberg. His second sermon he preached in the Baptist +church. To those simple-minded country people, he stood before them a +living illustration of what the grace of God might effect. Six years +previously he had startled and amazed them, as though he had ridden +through the air on a broomstick; now he came back to them in peace and +gentleness. Before he had laid sacrilegious hands upon the Holy Bible in +the sacred pulpit; now he opened the same reverently and read from +thence the words of eternal life. The change was indeed marvellous, and +Newberg proudly set him down as a second Paul the Apostle. + +Della was dreadfully seasick on the ocean voyage, and, as she often +declared, it seemed she never became completely well again. Owing to +this delicate state of her health, the St. Legers did not accompany +their companions to the field assigned them, a small town in the +interior, but remained in Constantinople, at the house of Dr. Adams, +resident Protestant minister of that city. + +It was not until after the birth and death of her first child, when her +health became somewhat reinstated, that Della was able to accompany her +husband to their contemplated mission. Here they rejoined their +companions of a year ago; Mr. and Mrs. Fisher, and Mr. and Mrs. Dodd. It +had been a former mission until recently abandoned; the houses, small +and inconvenient at best, had either been appropriated or fallen to +decay. + +A few rooms had been made habitable, and here the missionaries had taken +up their abode. Cheerless it seemed and disheartening to Philip and +Della, as they saw no progress at all made in the objects of their long +journey, but every effort consumed in struggles for daily bread. + +"What have you been doing?" asked the St. Legers, so wonderingly as to +convey almost a reproach. + +"The same as yourselves," retorted the Fishers and the Dodds, "nursing +our healths to make us well." + +"We will all begin together then," said Philip pacifyingly. + +"As soon as you please; you shall lead and we will follow," answered the +associates. + +Notwithstanding this ebullition of energy at the outset, month after +month, nay, year after year elapsed without the least material progress. +What was termed a school would be sometimes kept up for weeks together, +at which some few children could be coaxed to come; but after the +supply of pictures, ornaments, etc., with which they had been attracted +gave out, the attendance languished and the idle urchins sought +amusement elsewhere. + +Bibles were flung out with a lavish hand to men, women, and children who +had never before possessed such a treasure as a book; and this book +might for them just as well have been a bundle of old almanacs, for all +printed language was Greek to them. And they, these missionaries, did +not believe that the mere possession of the holy word of God could +impart or draw down God's grace upon the possessor; for that would be +akin to the miraculous, and they eschewed faith in miracles. + +An attempt was made at expounding and hearing the word of God on +Sundays. There was good enough will in these expositions, but the ears +and the hearts for receiving were far away. People, it is true, would +come some days in crowds, but it was not for instructions; they went as +young America goes to see a band of turbaned Turks, or Barnum's latest +humbug. + +Where was the use of spending so many persons' energies upon such a +stolid, indifferent, intractable people? They were wedded to their +idols, why not leave them alone? Why should they cast pearls before +swine? + +These were questions the missionaries asked themselves; and answered +too, if not to their satisfaction, to the best of their ability. Their +time became more and more consumed in the care of their increasing +families. + +These missionaries in their home-reports might well speak of hardships. +The women were often sick, help could but rarely be obtained, and then +of the poorest quality; thus these gentlemanly graduates of Yale, +Dartmouth, and Princeton had often not only to cook meals for the +family, but to wash, iron, attend the sick wife and helpless infants, +and suffer all the anxieties and annoyances that human flesh is heir to. +What wonder that they came gradually to lose sight of the grand +aspirations that had animated their early manhood? To forget, as it +were, the objects and aims of their holy mission, and to sink into the +mere _paterfamilias_, like other good masters of families? There seemed +no alternative; the routine of domestic duties must be accomplished; the +sick must be attended to; hungry mouths must be fed, fast-coming forms +must be clothed. Where was the time to go forth seeking the heathen or +compelling him to come in? The wife and children could neither be taken +nor left alone. In fact, the missionaries found to their great surprise, +as all experienced men have found, that the care of a family is a +never-ceasing, all-engrossing responsibility. The outside work could be +very small indeed; all had to centre in that one spot, home. They +cultivated small gardens, and in this way eked out their subsistence on +the small salaries received from the Board of Missions. + +Thus lived they from year to year, hopeless of the present, but +overflowing with hopes for the future. Though they could labor not _now_ +in Christ's vineyard, they might do so by and by; though they might live +to behold no fruit of their labors, they might, unknown even to +themselves, have sown the good seed, and their children's children, and +the children of heathendom might arise up and call them blessed. + +Della Lisle's life--or rather Della St. Leger's--in the land of her +adoption, lasted but five years; she had buried two little children, +who, so brief was their existence, could scarcely be said to have lived +at all. As her third trial was approaching and her health in wretched +state it was deemed best that she should be taken by easy stages to +Constantinople, where English medical advice could be procured. The +journey proved invigorating, and Della landed at Dr. Adams' in almost as +good health as when she had left, more than four years previously. + +There was always good company at the house of Dr. Adams. English and +American travelers, whether religious or not, were wont to claim his +hospitality. + +Upon the arrival of the St. Legers, a very interesting gentleman was +spending a few days; he bore the common name of Chase, but he was no +common man. Though still in the prime of life, he had traveled the world +over, made himself conversant with all languages, manners, and customs, +studied into all fanaticisms and all religions, and if he had ended in +having faith in none, as such people often do, he admirably kept his own +counsel. + +After coffee, the Doctor with his guests withdrew to the open court; +distributing a Turkish pipe to each, he sat himself down upon his +cushion, prepared to listen to this traveled friend with his usual +animation. + +Dr. Adams' house being head-quarters for missionaries coming and going, +and Philip St. Leger being at this time the third who had arrived +within a day or two, the others being still present, the conversation +naturally turned upon missionary life. + +Now, Mr. Chase was a Yankee; and though a cultivated one, he had not +parted with an innate inquisitiveness, and had an off-hand way of asking +such questions as first presented. He catechised these three +missionaries as faithfully, even in presence of Dr. Adams, as if he had +been President of the American Board. He desired to know the number of +years spent in the work, the size and extent of their missions, the +number of actual converts, and also all about their own families and +modes of living. + +Having apparently satisfied himself, Mr. Chase said, wheeling around to +the Doctor: + +"The same story. In my various travels I have come frequently across +these missionary stations; you will pardon me if I tell you what you +cannot fail to know, that they are complete failures. In my opinion, the +money might be better expended in planting gunpowder." + +The three youthful missionaries opened wide their eyes, but the Doctor +smoked away complacently. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +THE DISTINGUISHED TRAVELER'S VIEWS. + + +Mr. Chase dropped his pipe, as if in a great hurry, and continued: + +"Now, here are three missionaries, and they will excuse me, as I am +about to present to them a great truth--each of whom has left at his +respective station from two to four colleagues. There are then from ten +to fifteen men, with as many women and more children; the difficulty is +with these women and children; they are very dear, precious objects, I +have no doubt, in their own homes and in Christian lands, but they are +only clogs and drawbacks in such an enterprise as these young men are +engaged. A man alone can dive into forests, scale mountains, swim +rivers, fight lions, eat raw birds, make his bed in caves, or on solid +rock, lie down with the Indian, rise up with the Hindostan, do any and +every conceivable wild outlandish thing that the world's nations do; but +with a woman--pshaw, that alters the case." + +"But there are instances of brave women," remarked the Doctor, "Look at +Lady Hester Stanhope, and Lady ----" + +"But they were unmarried women. There are the Amazons of old too, and +Amazons are not wanting at the present time--but such do not come within +my category. From the very nature of the case, a man with a wife is +fettered; he cannot be absent from home twenty-four consecutive hours. +She is afraid of the dark, afraid of dogs and lions, of robbers and +murderers, afraid the children will get sick, or that 'something or +other will be sure to happen, as always does if he is away.' He too is +as uneasy as herself, meditates all sorts of mishaps, imagines the house +on fire, Johnny in the well, Fanny with a bean in her throat or a corn +in her ear, and is on thorns and briers until his own house circles him +around again. This is all right and natural for the ordinary domestic +man; but, as I understand it, the missionary undertakes God's work; he +renounces the world, its joys, comforts, friendships; he is no longer +his own; but his will, love, obedience, and work is all for God, his +Master, and for the heathen who know Him not. The truth is, the man who +considers himself called to missionary labors should leave his wife +behind him; that is, he should have no wife." + +The Doctor, who was now a man of sixty, had been thrice married, and was +now entertaining thoughts of a fourth wife, took his pipe from his lips +and said emphatically: + +"You are an extremist, Mr. Chase, you speak thus perhaps because it has +been your lot to lead a single life; but, let me tell you, I think our +missionaries sacrifice enough, without being obliged to come wifeless +among negroes, Hindoos, South-sea islanders, and Cannibals. A dreary +life at best--unendurable without companionship. You wouldn't get a man +to sail under the conditions you propose." + +"Did the Apostles have wives and children pulling after them?" continued +Mr. Chase. "Imprisoned, stoned, beaten, and scoffed, was their life less +dreary than should be the missionary's of to-day? What says St. +Paul--'thrice was I stoned, thrice was I beaten with rods, thrice I +suffered shipwreck, a night and a day have I been in the deep.' Do you +suppose it ever occurred to that mighty, God-like spirit, even in the +lowest depth of his worldly misery, that it would be a comfort to have a +wife come to weep with him, to hand him fresh gown and sandals? Never so +far fell that grand soul from its exalted repose upon the bosom of the +infinite! From that source whence he drew courage sublimer, faith +diviner, and strength irresistible, which no woman's heart or hand could +aid in evoking! Ah, that was a glorious St. Paul." + +"You are eloquent, sir, as all of us might well be over such a subject," +said the Doctor; "but you must remember that only one St. Paul has ever +lived." + +"Though he has been a model for many. I don't know--only _one_ St. Paul? +I think if we look back into history--say, take the Fathers of the +Desert--there was St. Jerome, a grand old man, St. Augustine, with less +of fire, but of lofty faith, St. Ephrem, there, in him you have a St. +Paul in eloquence; you will remember that his words were wont to flow so +rapidly that his frequent exclamation was--'O Lord, stay the tide of Thy +grace.' Why, the number is countless whose labors, toils, and +self-denials were gigantic. St. Benedict, St. Wilfred, St. Bernard stand +out--" + +The Doctor having thrown down his pipe and commenced walking the floor, +here interrupted his enthusiastic guest: + +"O, if you go to taking up the Roman Catholic calendar of Saints, you +will find plenty of fish in illimitable waters; but that is out of our +line of coasting, you must know; and we are not in the habit of +associating St. Paul with any of these latter-day Saints." + +"Please allow me, Dr. Adams, you know I am a privileged person. My +last-named Saint, Bernard, lived at least four hundred years before +Luther and John Knox, and Wilfred and Benedict much nearer to Christ +than to us, the latter having been separated in time but four centuries +from his Lord; but let us not contend upon this point; I cheerfully +admit my own superior admiration for the converted persecutor of the +Christians." + +"If his like has not been seen through eighteen hundred years, we may +not look for it in the nineteenth century," remarked the Doctor. + +"I still insist, however," said the indomitable Mr Chase, "that he has +had many imitators; and that brings us back to the subject whence we +have strayed, and upon which I have not said all that I had intended. I +was going to remark, after asserting that missionaries should leave +their wives at home, that the success of Catholic missionaries +illustrates the truth of this." + +"I beg you to remember," interposed the Doctor, testily, "that we do not +wish to be compared in any way, shape, or manner with the Catholic +missionaries. You might just as well compare us to the heathen who +worship idols." + +Mr. Chase continued, a little more mildly than before: + +"The question is not, my dear Doctor, a comparison between your religion +and theirs. I understand very little indeed about their religion. But +their object and yours is the same; by every means in your power to +induce souls ignorant of the Saviour to believe and accept the truths +you hold out; this is your mission, and this is theirs. You come with +your families, you make a home--you stay there--waiting for the heathen +to come to you; your wife is nervous, she likes not the uncouth looks +and ways of your barbarians; she is neat and she does not like her white +floor to be soiled by the dirty feet of your savages. Nervous, neat, and +timid herself, she meets their gaze anything but smilingly--even savages +are human, and know well enough how to take a hint. Her involuntary +dislike is returned with interest, and her husband's influence and +usefulness is at an end, even before being established." + +"You judge us harshly," complained Dr. Adams, glancing at the +dissatisfied countenances of his younger friends, "some missionaries +have most excellent wives." + +"Do not understand me as saying one word against any missionary's wife; +far be it from me. As a class, I have no doubt they are most estimable. +But women are women all the world over, and experience convinces me that +in the place they occupy as wives of missionaries they are only greatly +in the way. Now the Roman Catholics--and I am no friend to their +religion, as you very well know--as missionaries, are those only who +have met with success. _They_ attribute it to the grace of God following +their efforts, in accordance with the divine promise, 'Go teach all +nations, and lo, I am with you to the end of the world.' I have visited +their missions in every part of the world; in North and South America, +in Africa, Europe, Asia, and many islands of the sea--and in fact this +really did confound me, though I have been almost everywhere under the +sun, these missionaries were already there, working away as for dear +life--well, as I was saying, I have been in many a place where, to get +the least comfort at all, I was compelled to put up with them; and, I +always went away soothed, refreshed, and consoled. I assure you it is +wonderful; they go among the natives, and to a certain extent become one +of them; they win their confidence, treat them kindly, share with them +food and drink, sleep in their houses and tents, and by and by +insensibly have become their masters. Then how easy to teach them +anything! Now they couldn't do this with troops of women and children +along; so I came to the conclusion that their remarkable success in the +conversion of heathen nations was to be attributed to the absence of +these hindering appendages." + +"But you must have found nuns as missionaries in some places." + +"You know they are invisible to us profane people. They do have charge +of schools in some missions--but then, cannot you perceive that a dozen +of nuns, independent and self-supporting, is a very different +institution from a dozen of married women and half a dozen dozen small +responsibilities?" + +The Doctor laughed good-humoredly. + +"You stick to your point like the bark to a tree," he said. "What do you +say, young gentlemen," addressing his silent, but ill-pleased guests, +"are you convinced that you have made a blunder, and are you ready to +set about retrieving it?" + +St. Leger answered, with a voice that slightly trembled with +indignation: + +"I am convinced, Dr. Adams, that the learned gentleman who is so +conversant with the subject of missions, should seek and find his true +and proper position in the bosom of those successful idolaters he so +greatly admires." + +"Why, you take it to heart," said the Doctor. "Had you known Mr. Chase +as long and well as I have, you would make a different estimate of his +remarks;" and he turned the subject, for, in truth, he was not at all +pleased with these plainly spoken views, deeming them entirely uncalled +for and inapropos. He hastened to call out the distinguished traveler +upon a less distasteful theme. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +THE VISITATION--BY SPIRIT AND BY DEATH. + + +When Philip retired to his room that night he was surprised to find his +wife still awake. "What a wonderful man that is who has been +entertaining you this evening," she said. + +"Wonderful fool!" ejaculated the pious missionary, whose disturbed +temper had not yet become altogether serene. + +Della was quite thrown back by so unwonted an exclamation, and remained +silent. At length Philip said: + +"What do you know about him? where have you seen him? haven't you spent +the whole evening in this room?" + +"Yes, but the windows open upon the court; I have heard every word." + +"And heard no good of yourself, either," remarked Philip, snappishly. + +Her husband was in so unusual a mood that Della hesitated about entering +upon the conversation she had intended. She was impulsive, however, and +did not like to wait. + +"Philip, I want to say something," said she, gently. + +"Well, say away," was his ungracious permission. + +"I thought you had something to say," he said again, more gently, as +Della remained silent. + +"It was only this: I had been thinking the same thing," she said, almost +in a whisper. + +Now Philip knew very well what his wife meant. _He_, too, had thought +the same thing. But he pretended to be in the dark, and abruptly +demanded: + +"The same _what_ thing? Why must you speak so enigmatically?" + +"O, Philip, you could have done so much more and better without me. I +have done nothing, and have hindered you." + +"And what are you going to do about it?" said Philip, coldly. + +"Why, Philip, what _is_ the matter with you? How strangely you answer +me!" cried Della, excitedly. + +"Never mind me now, Della I am not myself to-night; go to sleep." + +Truly, thought Della, he is not himself; so she prudently resolved to +defer her "something to say" to a more favorable season. + +For the next eight or nine hours Philip's mind was in a whirlpool. While +a student at Princeton, the lectures of Cardinal Wiseman had chanced to +fall in his way. He read them with avidity, particularly those "On the +Practical Success of the Protestant Rule of Faith in Converting Heathen +Nations," and "On the Practical Success of the Catholic Rule of Faith in +Converting Heathen Nations." They left upon his mind unpleasant +impressions, and created doubts and misgivings which his tutors could +with difficulty dispel. But he shut his eyes, blinded his mind, and +allowed the hour of his visitation to pass by. Now, the words of this +Mr. Chase, a stray traveler, roaming through the world without aim or +object, so far as known, had aroused this slumbering phantom of the +past, and provoked, if not challenged, him anew. He recalled the story +of Catholic missions that had read to him like a continuation of +Apostolic labors; statistics, gathered altogether from Protestant +sources, showed them to be overwhelmingly successful; the gift of +miracles and the gifts of the Holy Ghost had descended upon them, and +crowns of martyrdom numerous and shining. He had even thought with a +thrill that had he never met Della it would be glorious to join this +lion-hearted band, whose symbol was the ever-upborne Cross! But there +had avalanched down upon this temporary glow such a storm of ridicule +against Transubstantiation, worship of the Blessed Virgin and of dead +men's bones and cast-off garments, and the putrified corruptions of the +Man of Sin generally, that the one generous, struggling spark was +extinguished. Of the great Protestant Foreign Missionary Society, for +which so much money had been expended, so many millions of Bibles +distributed, so many glowing reports printed, Philip St. Leger was now a +part, knew all its ins and outs--alas! its outs. + +This was the reason Mr. Chase's remarks had so fretted him: because of +the truth which he was unwilling to receive. To himself this young +missionary had admitted long before that a married man was too much +cumbered for his undertaking. At the same time he mentally insisted +that in that foreign land life without his wife would be to him +intolerable. It was truly distressing and discouraging that five years +had passed by with but the most trifling results. He thought, and not +for the first time, that were he settled in the faraway, quiet village +of Newberg, his life might not pass away so unprofitably. But he had put +his hand to the plough; should he now turn back? + +The dissatisfied missionary passed a sleepless night; he murmured and +repined; he was not willing to ascribe praise to his Roman Catholic +brethren, nor to admit their right to claim the promise of our Lord to +be with them unto the end. The result was that he resisted the spirit, +and allowed this second visitation to pass by, leaving him more +self-determined than before. Therefore, with the dawn of day, he +resolutely dismissed the subject, with emphasis asserting: "I am a +Protestant; I will live and work with my Protestant brethren. We must +admit nothing on the part of our adversaries; we must make our claims as +bold as theirs." + +When, therefore, a few days after, Della renewed the subject, he was +prepared to quiet her scruples. + +"And is their success, then, so really wonderful as this gentleman +declares?" she inquired. + +"Not at all. Doubtless in many places they do gain a temporary success, +but this is easily accounted for. The Catholic religion lies in outward +observances. They have so much show and ceremony that the ignorant +native is necessarily attracted. The dress, altar, lights, bell, all +have their part in alluring the curious. They think there must be some +great mystery connected with so much paraphernalia. They are naturally +willing to be let into the secret. But there is nothing in it at all to +convert the heart or convince the understanding. When these useless +accessories are removed, the converted heathen, as he is called, +relapses into barbarism." + +"It has seemed to me, though, Philip, that if we had only something in +our service to attract the attention, we would have a great advantage; +that is the first and principal thing to get people together. By having +something to win their curiosity, a great point is gained. Giving them a +Bible is like giving them a stone for bread--they can make nothing out +of it," said Della, decidedly. + +"But when they have the teachings of the Bible once thoroughly impressed +upon their minds, does it not stand to reason they would be better and +more persevering Christians?" asked Philip. + +"Very likely. But the difficulty is to make this impression. We tell the +heathen, man, woman, or child, that Christ died on the Cross to redeem +us. Would he not lend us more earnest attention if we illustrated our +instruction by exhibiting to him an image of the Cross and the +Crucified--in short, if we taught him, as did the ancients, the whole +story of Redemption, and the establishment of the Church, by series of +pictures and images?" + +"What is the use of going back thousands of years ago when we are living +in the nineteenth century? Why not make use of the art of printing since +we have it?" + +"Certainly, wherein it is of advantage. But the majority of those whom +the missionary seeks to instruct are beyond the reach of that admirable +art. Letters have for them no meaning; books are for them only to look +at; and with a picture the eye is instructed and more pleased." + +"Let us send to Rome for a cart-load of Madonnas, crucifixes, beads, and +all the et ceteras for satisfying and perpetuating superstition and +ignorance," said Philip, sarcastically. + +Della was sensitive to ridicule and remained silent. Her husband +continued: + +"Or, since you deem yourself a supernumerary in your present vocation, +suppose you allow me to pack you off in the return-cart to the Eternal +City, that is said to sit over the mouth of Il Inferno. You may kiss the +toe of his Holiness, and humbly ask penance for the rest of your mortal +life for having presumed to be a Protestant missionary's wife, and +carried the Bible to the dying heathen." + +"The subject is too serious for any such nonsense," remarked the wife, +gravely. "The question is _how_ to convert the heathen. It seems to me +the true missionary of the Cross should not be above receiving prudent +suggestions from whatever source; more particularly ourselves, who are +inexperienced in the work." + +"You are right, Della, as you always are," replied the husband, more +sincerely. "I have been revolving the subject over, and have come to a +firm resolution to turn over a new leaf on our return to the mission. If +Mrs. Fisher were not so peevish and Mrs. Dodd so distressingly +particular, we could get along better in the kitchen; the native girls +would do better, and improve. If you were to oversee that department, I +think there would be a change greatly for the better. The truth is, I +believe those women are afraid of being poisoned. They ought to give +their time in the school. If they tried to make it interesting there +would be a better attendance. It is all nonsense to spend one's whole +time in getting up dainty dishes, and _recherché_ toilets for one's +babies. At all events we must arouse ourselves from this slough of +indifference and give our best energies to the work. We have not made +half a trial yet. How can we expect success to follow aught but +energetic effort?" + +Distance lent enchantment. Now that the missionaries were hundreds of +miles away, the labors of the mission seemed easy of accomplishment, and +the daily, hourly difficulties and hindrances dwindled into +insignificance. + +Scarcely a month later and Philip St. Leger bent in thankfulness over a +little daughter, which the doctor said might live. + +"We will call her Della," said Philip to his wife. + +"Not Della, but Althea. I give her to God, Philip. May she do for Him +what I have not been able." + +Philip had turned to his wife that he might the better catch her feeble +whispers. O, the dread that rushed through his heart! A ghastly pallor +was spread over the face, a convulsive spasm distorted for a moment the +sweet mouth. + +"I am going--O, Philip," she said, wildly, and ere he had time to call +on God for mercy she was gone. + +"Good God, doctor, is she really dead?" cried Philip, as soon as he +could speak to the physician upon the opposite side, whose fingers now +let fall the pulseless wrist. + +"All is over," answered the physician, sadly. + +"Why did you not call me sooner if you saw the danger? How dared you not +inform me at once?" demanded Philip. + +"Pray be quiet, my dear sir. It was very sudden--entirely +unanticipated--although I had been suspecting disease of the heart. Her +lungs were a good deal affected, but her heart I think the immediate +cause of her death. Otherwise, she was doing nicely, bravely, better +than could be expected. You have met with a great loss, sir--a wonderful +loss--your wife was a noble woman. God help you!" + +Della St. Leger was buried by the side of the first and third Mrs. +Adams, the second having been buried on an island in the sea. The latter +had been a Southern lady, and had brought with her a colored woman, at +that time her slave. This person, Minerva by name, remained still an +invaluable member of Dr. Adams' household. To her care the little +motherless Althea was entrusted; and Philip St. Leger, with what heart +may be imagined, went back alone to his dreary mission. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +THE NEW CHOICE. + + +We have given a more thorough retrospect of the missionary's antecedents +than did he to his friend on that memorable night at Kennons. But the +gleam of his flashing eye, and the glow of the sparkling flame into +which he gazed was like flint to flint; and to us was it given +mysteriously to read the fiery flashes thus revealed. + +From the death of Della, he went on to inform his brother-in-law that he +had brought back his child in care of the faithful Minerva, whom he had +left with his younger sister for the present. He did _not_ tell him that +the real object of his present visit to America was to take to himself a +wife for the second time. This, however, he might, have told, had he not +found his friend in such affliction, as that any news of this kind must +have grated upon him harshly. + +Indeed, several months previously he had written to the principal of the +Seminary for her to select a suitable young lady for his future wife. +This was not the first time her offices had been solicited in this line; +but she was an elderly lady, sensible and practical, and naturally +thought that a missionary's second wife should be distinguished for +something more than youth and beauty. + +Accordingly, when, upon Philip's arrival in his native city, he had +visited his friends, and disposed of his daughter, he called upon Madame +X--, she presented to him her choice for Mrs. St. Leger, in the person +of Miss Arethusa Toothaker, the eldest, tallest, most sedate young lady +of her establishment. + +Miss Toothaker was of an uncertain age, though she called herself +twenty-seven--was tall, as we have said, and slender, had a long, narrow +head, which she carried on a neck too long, had very red cheeks, small +snapping black eyes, very thin hair, of which she wore in front two very +meagre curls done in cork-screw style, held her broad shoulders high, as +if vainly striving to get them far as possible from her long, ant-like +waist--well, this is enough, for at the very first glance Philip St. +Leger turned away his eyes and closed his heart. + +Upon taking his leave Philip informed Madame that Miss Toothaker would +not do. + +Madame was surprised; "She would make a worthy companion," insisted the +principal, "and the dream of her life has been to become the wife of a +missionary." + +The missionary smiled--he would not disturb her dreams for the +world--but "would Madame X--allow him to be present at the morning +exercises of the school some day?" + +"Certainly, any morning you please--to-morrow, if agreeable, you can +open school with prayer and address some useful remarks to the young +ladies." + +On the following morning was great commotion in the ranks of the young +ladies. The handsome, distinguished foreign missionary was to open +school. At the "let us pray," a hundred young heads rested upon the +upraised right hand; but it is to be feared that authorized devotional +attitude was sadly infringed upon, for, when he pronounced "Amen" sooner +than was anticipated, he encountered so many bright admiring eyes that a +less self-possessed person than Philip might have been abashed. As our +hero had studied his speech, however, he was able to commence and go +through without the slightest embarrassment. His keen eye swept the +array of youth and beauty before him, and so quick was he in arriving at +conclusions, his choice was made before his remarks were ended. + +A person of less penetration might have chosen many another than Emily +Dean. There were several among her compeers of more beauty and +brilliance. But Philip St. Leger was a good judge of character; he had +but to look upon a face to read the heart. He had loved Della Lisle from +hearing her voice, and from one glance at her countenance. Emily Dean +wore her hair, like hers also in color and abundance, as had Della. In +this only was resemblance, unless in a certain pensiveness of expression +and pose of attitude. + +Madame X--was again surprised, when, in the afternoon of the same day, +the missionary asked for an interview with "the young lady who had +occupied the fifth seat on the right hand side of the third row, who +wore her hair somewhat like a crown, and was dressed in pale blue." + +"Ah! Emily Dean--a very fine girl--but is she not too young--hardly +nineteen?" + +"I myself am not a Methuselah," remarked the missionary, somewhat +piqued that although but thirty-one, he should be esteemed too +unsuitably old for even the youngest of Madame X----'s pupils. + +"Of course--O certainly--of course--I beg your pardon," said the lady +hastily, "but a missionary's wife, you know--there is much to be +considered." + +Philip, evidently bent upon doing his own considering, pursued his +inquiries, and gained the interview. He proposed to the young lady in +presence of the principal, and in so very business-like a way as +convinced both the elder and the younger that there was more +practicability beneath that poetical exterior, than the latter would +have suggested or warranted them in believing. + +Philip was not long in discovering Emily Dean to be the eldest child of +an independent farmer in Western New York. She had four sisters and +three brothers younger than herself. "With such a family, the father can +more easily part with this daughter," thought Philip; and he started off +on the next train to visit the family of the Deans. + +Emily he found to be a favorite in the household. His proposition to +take her with him "away to the barbarous Turk" was received with +consternation and tears. The more, that it was felt, from the first, +that if she wished it they should have to give her up. + +The enthusiastic suitor proposed the father should at once go for his +daughter and conduct her home. To all objections and demurrers as to +haste and postponement Philip had a ready and eloquent answer. There was +no gain-saying this ardent pleader. + +The farmer left his host of potato-gatherers and apple-pickers and went +off on the express. In twenty-four hours he returned with his daughter. +Philip would have given no time for preparations--but in this he was +forced to yield. + +The parents insisted their eldest daughter should have a wedding +_trousseau_--it was not meet she should set out on so long a voyage, +across the ocean of water, and the ocean of married life, in the +condition of Miss Flora McFlimsey. So Philip St. Leger took this +interval of time for his flying trip to his brother-in-law in Virginia. + +But he found, as we have seen, the gloom of death spread over Kennons. +Had he needed aught to convince him anew of the evanescent nature of all +beneath the sun, he found it here. It was indeed painful to contrast the +joy and happiness of this Southern home of little more than six years +ago, and the present desolation. In that joy he had shared--in this +gloom was his own heart wrung. In the moment of mournful silence that +followed his long; discourse and Duncan's, life seemed to him not worth +the living, and rising from his chair he said, with marked emphasis: + +"Duncan, my friend, we are but travelers of a day. Our life, like that +fire, goes out in ashes. The night comes, and we sleep. _Do_ we rise +again? Does this corruption put on incorruption--this mortal put on +immortality? O, could I hear a voice from Heaven say unto me '_Yes_,' I +should be comforted!" + +"Why, Philip! Have you, too, doubts? God Almighty help us, when the +faith of His ministers falters!" + +"Bear with me now, Duncan; the darkness in my soul is deep and terrible +to-night; death and the grave seem the only sure certainties we have in +this world. Morning may bring me right again, if another morning remain +for me. Let us sleep--and good night!" + +The friends separated--and Duncan pondered on the missionary's last +words. They seemed prophetic; and he almost expected, when he sent +Grandison to his room on the following morning, to see that servant +return with direful news. Not so. Philip appeared about ten o'clock, +declaring he had slept well, and felt much refreshed. He remained for +several days at Kennons, during which time the grave of Ellice was +opened, and a tiny coffin let down upon her own; mother and child were +re-united; and as Philip offered a prayer over the fresh-thrown earth, a +ray of stronger faith enkindled his heart. Philip talked of his own +little girl to Duncan Lisle: + +"I had intended leaving her with my sister Estelle, who was my favorite. +She was much attached to Della," said Philip; "But I found Estelle's +husband does not like children; besides, she has three of her own, the +eldest but a baby, and twins younger. Leonora is well married, but +devoted to society, has no children of her own, and no idea of being +troubled with other people's. I could not leave her with my mother, even +though she had not been an invalid. My only resource was to entrust her +with Juliet, who was but recently married, and who, with her husband, +received the child delightedly. I do not feel at all satisfied with the +arrangement, but it was the best I could do. Juliet is good-hearted, +over-affectionate, and will be kind to the child; but she is rather +simple-minded, frivolous, and variable. Her husband is a kind, sensible +man, but he was raised a Roman Catholic. Juliet tells me that he is not +much of anything now; but I doubt it, for he insisted on being married +by the priest, before the ceremony at St. Mark's; and then again, the +idea of one who has been raised a Catholic ever being anything else +_but_ a Catholic. It is preposterous. I have charged Juliet to see that +no influence is ever brought to bear upon the mind of my child as she +advances in years--but I have still grave fears. Possibly the time may +come when you can remove her to Kennons, say, for a year or so, at a +time; it would be a source of pleasure to me to have Althea beneath the +roof under which her excellent mother was reared." + +Duncan but too gladly promised to keep an oversight of the child; he +would occasionally visit her during her infancy, and his home should +ever be open to her; had Ellice lived she should have known no other. + +The friends, newly attached, took sad leave of each other. Duncan leaned +upon the gate, and watched the other as he rode slowly through the lane. +Had the feet of the horse been mounting stairs that led upward to the +skies, Duncan would not have felt more sure that Philip was passing +forever from his view. + +"Traveling, he one way, I another, yet both to the same goal--eternity," +mused Duncan. + +As he spoke, a carriage came in view, hiding the retreating traveler. He +discerned at a glance that the carriage, drawn by fiery, coal-black +steeds, was that of Mrs. Rush, He remained by the gate until the driver +drew rein, and the bright, glowing face of the lady put itself out of +the window. + +"So, Mr. Lisle, your friend has already gone. I had no idea he was going +so soon. I am so sorry. I was going to have had you over to dinner +to-day. As it is, you can come, Mr. Lisle,--you and Hubert." + +Duncan Lisle pleaded indisposition, and politely declined. + +"But what are you going to do? House yourself up and mope yourself to +death?" persevered the handsome widow. "I know how it is, and that you +must feel a disinclination to society; but one must make an effort, you +know. Come, I will take you right over in my carriage; there is plenty +of room. Come, Hubert, come, jump in;" and the little boy, very willing, +sprang up to the side of the carriage. His father went to assist him. + +"Hubert may go, but, really, I cannot, Mrs. Rush. You must excuse me. +Another time, perhaps." + +"But I don't excuse you, Mr. Lisle. I am so disappointed You know what a +splendid cook my Dinah is, and I ordered her to do her best. But then I +suppose if you won't, you won't, and there's an end of it; is that so?" + +"That is so, Madam," and touching his hat gracefully, he bade her an +inaudible "good-morning," and turned away. + +Mrs. Rush ordered Washington, her coachman, to drive home. She was +disappointed and chagrined, but not discouraged. She was vain as a +peacock or Queen Elizabeth. Like another _Dorcasina_, she fancied every +man to be her _inamorata_. She had never abandoned the idea that Duncan +Lisle had been once in love with her. She had been encouraged in this +delusion by the duplicity of her servants, who, to propitiate her favor, +had been in the habit of repeating false expressions of his admiration +and regard. + +"If all reports are true, he thinks more of you this day than he does of +Miss Ellice," said one. + +"Everybody knows that Duncan Lisle worships the ground you tread on, and +always did. Miss Ellice happened to come along and just inveigled him, +that is all; he is sorry enough, you may 'pend," falsified another. + +"He always _was_ talking about how mighty han'some you was, and what +beautiful eyes you had," declared a third, and so it went, and credulous +Mrs. Rush laid the flattering unction to her soul that she was the one +woman in the world for Duncan Lisle. + +"It is only for looks' sake; he wanted to come bad enough, you may bet +on that," said Dinah to her mistress, when informed that she had got up +her great dinner for nobody but little Master Hubert. + +As to Hubert, after he was through with his good dinner, he had anything +but a pleasant visit. Thornton Rush--his name was Jude Thornton +Rush--was a few months older than Hubert, He possessed the beauty of his +mother, with the dark, hidden nature of his father. He was stubborn, +morose, and quarrelsome. He abounded in bad qualities, but if there was +one which excelled another, it was cunning and duplicity. These were so +combined as really to form but one. Had he been a man and termed +_Jesuitical_, in the Protestant sense, that term would have aptly +described him. Now Hubert was not perfect more than other children, but, +compared to Thornton Rush, he was a little saint. His organ of +combativeness frequently waged stern conflicts with his bump of +reverence. His sense of right was keen as his sensitiveness against +wrong and falsehood. He was, like his mother, frank and open as the day, +generous, disinterested, and unselfish. + +What should happen, then, when these two natures came together? What but +thunder and lightning, as when two clouds meet? + +Duncan Lisle thought about this as he saw his boy borne away from him, +and he resolved to go over for him very soon after dinner. He arrived +just in time to rescue him, bruised and bleeding, from the fists and +fury of Thornton Rush. The quarrel had commenced in this way: Thornton +had asserted that everything at Thornton Hall was his; Hubert had +nothing. Hubert admitted as much, insisting, however, that all at +Kennons was his. + +"No such thing," denied Thornton. "Everything at Kennons is your +father's; you have nothing." + +"Well," said the other, "so everything at Thornton Hall is your +mother's, and not yours." + +"No such thing. I am the master of Thornton Hall. My father is dead, +sir." + +"Yes, I know that." + +"You know that! And is that all you can say? Say that I am master of +Thornton Hall, and that you are nobody but Hubert Lisle," said +Thornton, intent upon a quarrel. + +"I shall say no such thing." + +"But you will, sir, and I can make you. I am stronger than you are, and +I have bigger fists. Look here, aren't you afraid?" shaking his clenched +fist in the other's face. + +"No, I am _not_ afraid," spoke Hubert boldly, striving to grapple with +his stronger foe. + +So engaged were the boys, they heard not the approach of Mr. Lisle, +till, having dismounted from his horse, he seized Thornton by the collar +and flung him afar, as he would have done a wild cat. + +Mrs. Rush, who had seen the whole from the window, and enjoyed it +immensely, now thought it worth while to come upon the scene. + +"What does all this mean?" as if just surprised. "Thornton Rush, you +will be punished for this. Have you no better manners than to treat your +young visitor in that way? Really, Mr. Lisle, I am truly distressed, and +offer you a thousand apologies. Please do not take Hubert home in that +condition; bring him to the kitchen and let Dinah bathe his face and +hands. How unfortunate this should have occurred!" + +Mr. Lisle complied, and waited until his boy was brought to him in a +more presentable condition; then he went away, very wroth indeed in +heart, but outwardly calm and composed. + + + + +CHAPTER X. + +"A DREAM WHICH WAS NOT ALL A DREAM." + + +As the missionary journeyed northward, his mind emerged from the gloom +of the last few days. It naturally turned upon the young girl who was so +soon to become his bride, and in this connection life began again to +assume its rose-tints of old, and he was led to wonder how it was he had +so given way to grief and sadness. In recalling the trials and +disadvantages to which his young bride would be exposed at the mission, +a bright thought occurred to him. An American housekeeper would be +invaluable, and Miss Toothaker arose before him. She would no doubt +prove an excellent manager, and she was so unprepossessing in every way, +she would be unlikely to be appropriated by any widowed missionary. It +has been seen already that for Philip St. Leger to think and to act were +but quick, consecutive steps; it was so in this case. Upon his return to +Troy he called upon Madame X---- and explained his wishes. Miss +Toothaker was consulted, and accepted his proposition at once; she would +be on missionary ground at all events. True, she was conditionally +engaged to marry a Mr. Freeman Clarke, who was an itinerant preacher. +She had insisted that he should become a missionary. He had consented to +go as missionary to the Western frontiers. This did not meet Miss +Toothaker's views; foreign missionary or nothing. Mr. Clarke's +conscience did not send him to any Booriooboolah Gha, he said. + +The engagement had been for some time in this state of contention, when +the proposal of going to Turkey as "assistant" put an end to it. + +Miss Arethusa retired to her room triumphantly, and exultingly wrote to +her lover the facts in the case--except that she left him to infer that +she was going to Turkey, as she had always wished, a missionary's wife. + +Now that Mr. Freeman Clarke's "blessing had taken its flight," it all at +once assumed that brightness of which the poet speaks. He would have +argued and urged, even consented to have gone to the ends of the earth, +but he saw from his lady's letter it was too late. He solaced himself +somewhat by replying to her dolorously, hoping that she might perceive +his heart was broken and be sorry. He closed loftily by saying: "You +advise me, my dear Arethusa--allow me to call you thus for the last +time--to find a heart worthier and better. It was unkind in you to urge +upon me an impossibility. None but Napoleon ever scorned the word +impossible." + +Whether Mr. Freeman Clarke derived his inspiration for the itineracy +from his lady-love is not for us to decide; this much is certain: from +the day the "Atlantic" sailed for the Old World with Miss Toothaker on +board his zeal flagged, and soon gave out altogether. His love for +souls settled down upon one Annette Jones, the plain daughter of a plain +farmer, whom he married, and lived happily enough with upon a small, +rocky farm in the State of Vermont. In times of "revival," he became an +"exhorter," and very fervent in prayer. Upon one occasion he soared to +such a pitch as to cry out frantically: "O Lord, come down upon us now, +come down now through the roof, _and I will pay for the shingles_."[A] + +There were two or three people present who thought such an address to +the Supreme Being blasphemous and frightful, but the rest of the crowd +cried, "Amen." + +In due time our missionaries found themselves at the house of Dr. Adams. +The doctor was rejoiced to have back Minerva again, for he declared +nothing had gone on rightly since her departure. + +Although Philip was well pleased with his second wife, he forgot not his +first. On the evening of his arrival he went out to visit her grave. As +he stood there mournful and silent, a light step approached, and Emily's +hand clasped his own. + +"Is it _her_ grave?" she asked softly. + +"Yes. You would not have me quite forget Della, would you?" he asked, +doubtfully. + +"O, no, but I would remember her with you. I would stand here by her +grave with you, and offer up my prayers with yours that she may look +down upon us in love and blessing. I would not seek to drive her memory +from your heart. I do not consider that I have usurped her place. I +would have a place alongside of hers--if I am worthy, Philip." She +added the last words in a whisper, and doubtingly. + +For the first time Philip perceived what a treasure he had won, and how +worthy a successor to his first love. He looked down in her tearful eyes +lovingly. + +"Della in heaven and Emily on earth--as one I love you," he said, +fervently. + +On the following day Philip took his bride out to view the wonders of +the city. They invited Miss Toothaker to accompany them, but were by no +means regretful that she declined. They little dreamed what was going on +in their absence. Suffice to say, when, after a few days of rest, they +began to make ready for departure, their "assistant" displayed not her +accustomed zeal and alacrity. This was accounted for on the last morning +of their stay. + +Without warning or preliminaries, immediately after prayers, in fact, +upon rising from his knees, Dr. Adams walked up to the blushing Miss +Toothaker, and taking her happy hand, led her to the far end of the +room, placing himself and her in position. + +"Before you leave, Mr. St. Leger, you will, if you please, do us the +favor"--(bowing low and smiling mellifluously) "you see how it is, sir, +and what we wish of you." The Doctor stammered, and was bashful, +although such a veteran in the service. + +The bride elect held her head very erect; the red spots in her cheeks +glowed like double peonies; her two thin curls, done in oil for the +occasion, hung straight and stiff like pendant icicles nigrescent; her +sparkling black eyes looked apparently into vacuity, while they were +really beholding the acme of all her hopes. She was thinking in that +supreme moment of her life how very providential it was that she had +thrown overboard Mr. Freeman Clarke. Whether he was picked up or whether +the sharks devoured him, it occurred not to her to care. That she was +about to become the fourth wife of the Rev. Dr. Adams, foreign +missionary at the Capitol city of Turkey, was sufficient glory; she +could have afforded to quench the hopes, and tread upon the hearts of a +dozen such as that itinerant preacher. She had reserved herself for a +grand calling, her life would be written in a book, and _her_ name too, +along with the Judsons, the Newells, the Deans, would inspire Sunday +school scholars with zeal for missionary life unto the end of time. + +But we are keeping them waiting. + +Philip, always master of the situation, choked down his indignation and +spoke the words, "for better--for worse." His prayer was brief and dry, +without one bit of heart or spirit, but maybe it answered the purpose. + +The Doctor, after the tying of the knot, did condescend to thank Philip +for his kindness in bringing him over a wife. Philip replied with +truthfulness that he merited no thanks. + +And after all, once started again upon their inland journey, both Philip +and his wife regretted not the absence of Arethusa. They had endured her +company for sake of the advantage she was to prove to them in the +future; they now fully realized how much she had been in their way. + +Philip's respect for the Doctor sensibly diminished. If he could endure +Miss Arethusa for the the rest of his life, his taste was abominable. +_De gustibus non disputandum est_; with this familiar reflection, Philip +turned to a subject more agreeable. + +Thus had Arethusa's life-long dream of becoming a missionary's wife +proved neither illusive nor vain; and she had dropped the Toothaker. + +[Footnote A: A fact.] + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +ALTHEA'S GUARDIANS. + + +The little Althea then, who is our heroine, when we shall come to her, +had been entrusted, somewhat unwillingly, to her aunt, Juliet St. Leger +Temple; Juliet never wrote her name only in full, as above. She was +proud of her maiden name. St. Leger was romantic, high-sounding, +aristocratic. Temple--well, Temple had been well enough in the early +days of her courtship. She thought she loved John Temple so very +profoundly that she would have married him even if he went by Smith or +Jones. She had read Charlotte Temple, and she knew people by that name +of great respectability; but since her marriage, she had discovered, on +the same street with her, a family of Temples who were snobbish and +vulgar. This put her out of conceit with her husband's name. John +Temple! so almost the same as James Temple, only a few squares below. +Who was to distinguish her, Mrs. Juliet St. Leger Temple, from the fat, +dowdyish, over-dressed, gaudy Mrs. Temple, who wore a wig, and whose +eyes squinted? Who, she questioned, when both went by the name of Mrs. +J. Temple, of M---- street? Her early married life was clouded by this +one grievance. She had still another; her husband was a Roman Catholic, +and would not go with her to St. Mark's Church. True, she had known him +to be a Catholic when she married him; but she had _not_ known or +dreamed that these Catholics were so set and obstinate in their +religion. He had been so reticent upon the subject that she had supposed +him quite indifferent. Once married, she could convert him; O, that +would be a very easy matter. He need go to St. Mark's but once to be so +delighted that he would wish to go there ever after. She had consented +to be married first by the priest in order that John Temple might see +the delightful difference between being married by Father Duffy at low +Mass in the early morning, while fashionables were still folding their +hands in slumber, and being married five hours after by the elegant Dr. +Browne, assisted by the Rev. Drs. Knickerbocker and Breck--with a +brilliant group of bridesmaids and groomsmen, and only the very _élite_ +of fashion, full-dressed and perfumed, in attendance. + +"I hope he will be captivated now; and that here will ooze out the last +gasp of his love for the religion of St. Patrick," the young bride had +said mentally. + +But neither Dr. Browne, nor his beaming assistants, nor all the splendor +of St. Mark's made upon John Temple the least apparent impression. + +The Sunday following the marriage witnessed quite a contention. + +"And you say this positively, John, that you will not go with me to St. +Mark's, and on the very first Sunday, too?" cried Juliet, incredulous. +"I have told you all along that I would not go to your church," replied +John. + +"But what possible harm could there be in your going just this once? Any +other man in the world would be proud to go with me in all my beautiful +bridal array. I assure you there is not another wardrobe in the city so +_recherché_ as mine. You yourself said you never saw such a love of a +hat, and my point-lace might be the pride of a princess. But, John, if +you would only go, I would be more proud of you than even anything and +all of my elegant dress. Now, John, dear, please say yes," and she laid +her hand on his arm, and looked up, as she vainly hoped, irresistibly in +his face. + +But John shook off her hand impatiently, not deigning even to respond to +her look. + +"Silence gives consent, and you will go," she said. + +"Have I not told you once, twice, and thrice that I cannot go with you?" + +"O, John, but I did not think you in such terrible earnest, and you are +not, I am sure. I thought you loved me so well you would do anything to +please me. Come now, just this once, this first Sunday after our +marriage. Think how it will look, and what will people say to see me +walk into church all alone--and our pew is far up in front?" + +"Is it for the looks of the thing and for what people will say that you +go to church?" asked the husband, gravely. + +"No, of course not; but then we must have some regard for the speech of +people, and how it will look for you to go off to one church and your +wife to another." + +"Would you care to go with me, Juliet?" + +"With you? To St. Patrick's? With all the Bridgets and Pats and Mikes of +the city? Do you think I could stoop so low? O, John Temple, you insult +me!" and the young wife burst into indignant tears. + +John hurried to her with his handkerchief to wipe her eyes. She thrust +it away, declaring there was something about a gentleman's handkerchief +that made it abominable. + +"Well, don't cry, dear," urged John, soothingly. + +"It's all the comfort left me," sobbed Juliet. + +"I simply followed your example," continued the husband. "You invited me +to your church, and I invited you to mine, that, as you said, we might +go together. I had no idea of urging you to go if it would be +disagreeable to you." + +"There's a vast difference. If you go to St. Mark's you are among +elegant people. Every one's dress is in the height of fashion. You see +nothing low or vulgar. There is nothing to offend the senses. The very +thought of my going to St. Patrick's!" and the lady cast up her eyes as +if she were about to faint or to implore Heaven to save her from such a +horror. + +"But you associate in society with the McCaffreys, the Dempseys, and the +Blakes, and many others of the congregation of St. Patrick." + +"O, well, they probably started up from nothing, and are used to it; +they don't know any difference. But for me--a St. Leger! O, John, if +you love me, don't ever mention such a thing again; and if you love me, +John, a half or quarter as I love you, you will go with me to St. +Mark's. I will not go without you, and I shall cry myself into a +dreadful headache, and you can refuse me and see me suffer so when we've +been married but five days! O dear, dear, I thought I was going to marry +a man who would love me so well he would do everything in the world to +please me, and now here it is!" and Juliet fairly shook with sobs. + +John Temple was a very matter-of-fact man; quite the reverse of his wife +in every respect. The wonder is how such opposites became attracted. He +understood very little of women's ways, and became fearful that his +young bride was on the borders of distraction. He felt himself justified +in remaining absent from Mass, and as he persevered in his resolution of +not accompanying Juliet to St. Mark's, both remained at home, where more +of clouds than sunshine reigned. + +More than once during this scene John Temple was on the point of +yielding. Where was the harm after all? and it would be a pleasure to +gratify Juliet. But he remembered the promise he had made to himself and +his God, that, in marrying a Protestant wife, he would still keep aloof +from the Protestant Church. This promise kept him true. If once would +have answered, he might have gone once; but after that the battle would +have to be fought over again; the victory might be made complete in the +beginning. + +The next day, while Mr. Temple was at his place of business, Juliet, +feeling herself very much injured, visited her rector, Dr. Browne. She +told him the whole story in her tragic way, including the insulting +proposal for her to go to St. Patrick's. She wished Dr. Browne would +contrive some way by which her her husband might be brought to terms. + +Dr. Browne smiled. + +"You will remember, Mrs. Temple," he said, "that your friends all warned +you in this matter of your marriage. It is so impossible for a Catholic +to become anything else, that it has become an adage, 'Once a Catholic, +always a Catholic.' Do not expect your husband to change; the leopard +might as well be expected to change his spots. Ephraim is joined to his +idols; let him alone. Let him go to his church, and you to yours. It is +not pleasant, but must be accepted as one of the conditions of your +marriage. Neither let it create trouble between you. Avoid religious +subjects. But as he will undoubtedly cling to his Church, so must you to +yours. Do not be prevailed upon to go with him; remain upon that point +firm as himself." + +Thereafter Juliet concluded she had better make the best of it, and +by-and-bye it had ceased to become the "skeleton in the house," as at +first. + +Had Juliet been less exacting and less demonstrative in her affection, +she would have made her husband a happier man. Coming home one day he +found her crying, as if her heart would break. To his eager inquiries as +to the cause, she replied, hysterically: + +"You don't love me, John, and I am the most unhappy woman in the +world." + +"Don't love you! What has put such a notion as that in your head?" + +"You know you don't, John; that is enough." + +"But if I tell you I do?" + +"That is just what you never do tell me; that is what makes me so +miserable." + +"Am I unkind to you? What have I done that you complain of?" + +"You don't tell me every day that you love me." + +"Bless me! You are not expecting me to repeat that over every day? Is +not once enough for all? Did I not prove it beyond all words by marrying +you?" + +"I never expected our honeymoon to wane. If you calculated to settle +down at once into sober old married people, I did not, nor will I. I +wish we had never got married, and always stayed lovers; that was ever +so much nicer. Don't you say your _Ave Maria_ every day?" + +"I do," answered John, "or rather I used to," failing to perceive what +connection this question could have with the subject. + +"Well, then, why do you do that? Why don't you say it once for all and +have done with it, as you say of your love for me? But no, all your +devotion must be given to a woman that lived thousands of years ago! You +think more of her picture than of your own wife! This is what one gets +by marrying a Catholic!" + +Juliet's temper was fast overcoming her grief. + +John Temple was agitated by a variety of emotions. He looked at his +wife, who had re-buried her face in the sofa cushions, and thus +addressed her, inaudibly: + +"You foolish, little simpleton! you ignorant little heretic!--destitute +both of religion and common sense. Good Heavens, what a wife! Jealous of +Mary, our Mother in Heaven! O, Holy Mary in Heaven, pray for her." + +The dinner-bell rang. + +"Come, Juliet," said her husband, kindly, "let us go to dinner; I am +hungry as a bear." + +"You can go; I have no appetite, I never care to eat again as long as I +live," came out dismally from the depths of the pillows. + +John ate a hearty dinner, when, failing to conciliate his wife, he went +to his office. No sooner had the hall-door closed on him than Juliet +arose out of her sackcloth and ashes, bathed her face, arranged her +hair, and proceeding to the dining-room, so far forgot her intention of +never eating again as to surprise the cook by her greediness. She then +dressed, ordered her carriage, and was driven to her mother's. + +To this mother, who was a confirmed invalid, and confined to the house, +Juliet poured out the exaggerated tale of her grievances. It was not +enough that her husband was a Catholic; he was also heartless, stoical, +unsympathizing, and unloving. + +Mrs. St. Leger listened silently to the end. At the conclusion she flew +into a rage. + +"You shall go back to him no more," she exclaimed. "You see now the +folly of your persisting in marrying him. He was beneath you in every +respect. But you shall not live with him. My daughter shall not be +treated disdainfully by John Temple, an Irishman and a Catholic. I will +send for my lawyer and have divorce papers drawn at once. Ring for +Richard." + +"But, mamma--I--I--I never thought of getting a divorce. I love my +husband. It is because I love him so well that I feel so bad if--if--" + +"Juliet, you are a goose," interrupted the irritated parent; "if you are +so fond of your husband, what are you here for with your complaints? If +you are bound to live with him, why, live with him, and hold your +tongue. When it comes that you are willing to separate and get a +divorce, then come to me, but not till then." + +Juliet returned to her home a wiser woman. The very thought of +separation from her husband was distracting. What was mother or sister +compared to him? She had really no doubt of his affection, and it +suddenly flashed upon her mind that such scenes as she had just gotten +up, if frequently repeated, might have a tendency to alienate him. She +would make it all up; she would tell him how sorry she was; she would be +so glad to see him; he _should_ love her, even though he did not tell +her so. + +John came home that night wondering if he should find his wife's face +still hidden in the cushions, her hair standing out in a thousand +dishevelled threads. It was not a pleasant picture. Yet it _was_ a +pleasant picture that met him at the door. Juliet was all smiles, blooms +and roses. There was joy in her eyes, and gladness in her tones. Never +had she looked quite so beautiful to John Temple--even when first her +beauty won him. It was such a surprise! What wonder he committed the +folly--but no matter. Juliet learned a lesson to her advantage. Tears +and upbraidings had failed to move him. A happy face, smiles, charming +toilettes, joy at his coming had brought out those expressions which +demands had failed to elicit. + +Juliet was not satisfied yet. She had to tell him how shocked she had +been at the mere thought of losing him. John opened his eyes, and felt +considerably hurt as she detailed the visit to her mother, and that +mother's proposition for a divorce. For Juliet touched very lightly upon +her own fault of having made outrageous complaints against him. +Nevertheless he felt convinced of the facts, knowing Juliet had gone +there with unkindness in her heart. By his repeated questionings she +admitted all, but he fully forgave her, considering the good results of +her thoughtless action. + +On the day following this domestic breeze and subsequent calm, Philip +St. Leger had arrived from the Orient. Two months previously they had +been apprised of his coming. A family conclave had been held, at which +it had been decided that to Juliet should Philip's child be consigned; +for reasons already explained by Philip to Duncan Lisle. + +Juliet had now been married six months. She was twenty-five years of +age; old enough to have exhibited more sense and discretion than we have +seen her to do. She was, however, one of those who will be childish as +long as they live. Her faults and delinquencies were due more to +improper training than to natural defects. With such characters is hope +of reformation. + +Juliet was delighted with the child, which was just commencing to walk, +and could say a few words. She had the dark eyes and hair, and creamy +complexion of the St. Legers. + +Juliet had been, even among girls, distinguished for her love of dolls. +To make dresses and hats for her troop of a dozen had formed one of the +chief pleasures of her childhood, continued far up into youth. + +In Althea she saw the quintessence of all dolls. For her she could +embroider, ruffle, and tuck; search the city over for the daintiest of +baby shoes and the showiest of infant hats. Althea should have a nurse, +and a carriage, and a poodle dog. Santa Claus should not only give her +his choicest gifts at Christmas but should shower down toys every day in +the year. After a little, in another year, she would take her with her +to St. Mark's, where she should attract all eyes by her dress and +beauty. + +That Althea had a soul to be trained, carefully guided and directed to +God, entered not into the calculations of this giddy, superficial +woman. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +THE CHRISTENING. + + +A year afterward came little Johnny into the house of the Temples. Words +altogether fail to do justice to the mother's pride and joy. + +Leonora, who wore proudly her husband's grand name of Van Rensaleer, +looked down on the Temples; nevertheless, as a duty, she called to +congratulate them upon the birth of a son. + +"Yes, a fine babe," she replied to the father's questioning look of +admiration. "A nice baby, I dare say," she said in answer to Juliet's +glowing extolations, finished by a "do you not think so?" "But all +babies look alike to me," she added. "I fail to see the charm, I prefer +my poodle." + +"Sour grapes," returned Juliet, her eyes flashing. + +"Sweet grapes, my dear," said her sister, softly. "Well, I wish you much +joy, and may the child prove a blessing to you." + +Then came Estelle. She was Mrs. Lang. She had married an Englishman, and +would have gotten along comfortably had she not been "worried to death" +with "those children." Hugh was now four years old, the twins two and +a-half, and Robby in his eleventh month. Four boys, and they kept the +house in commotion from one year's end to another. + +To Juliet's joyful outbursts Estelle answered: "O, it is all very well +just now; I know all about it; but wait until you have four! Why, I +cannot get from the sound of their noise; it rings in my ears now. There +isn't a moment when I am not on the keen jump, expecting some limb to be +broken, some eye to be put out, or some dreadful disease to come around. +I dread the warm season on account of its summer-complaints; and the +cold for its croups, scarlet fevers, measles, and whooping cough. I warn +you, Juliet, you are seeing your happiest days." And Estelle, with a +weary look and dreary tone, took her departure for her luxurious, but +uproarious home. + +"What are _you_ going to do with the baby?" asked Mr. Temple of the +little Althea. + +"I yock it," she answered, placing her hand upon her own small crib, +rocking it to and fro. + +The young mother, excited and nervous, would not heed the Doctor's +cautions to keep herself quiet. Like many another foolish person, she +thought she knew better than any physician could tell her. As a result +of her indiscretion, she was attacked with a long and dangerous illness, +which had nearly proved fatal. + +Upon her recovery, Johnny was three months old; and Juliet began to talk +about having him baptized. The first time she went out to drive she +purchased the finest christening robe she could find. Nothing was too +expensive for such an occasion. For herself also she obtained an +entirely new outfit. If John could only be induced to go to the +christening! Possibly he might; she would make one more effort. + +One day when he came home at noon she met him smilingly at the door. + +"John, come with me a minute," she said, and led the way up the winding +stairway, into the finest chamber. The bed and every article of +furniture was made to do duty in supporting beautiful and costly +fabrics. + +"What! another wedding to take place?" exclaimed John. + +"The christening of our only child, my dear. See, everything is ready; +just look at this elegant robe, fit for a king's son, but only worthy of +our dear boy. O John, I have only one drawback to all my happiness--if +you would only go with us to St. Mark's!" + +"Juliet, why do you wish our child to be baptized?" inquired John. + +"If you please, say _christened_. Why, is it not customary? Do not +everybody who are any thing take their children to the church? Indeed, +it is a very grand occasion; I suppose little innocent children are not +admitted at St. Patrick's?" + +"On the contrary, every Catholic child is baptized, even at the most +tender age; but, Juliet, the Catholic mother gives not all her mind to +the child's costly apparel; that is of little consequence compared to +devoting the child to God." + +"That is not the question," spoke Juliet, impatiently. "Will you, or +will you not go with us to St. Mark's?" + +"Juliet, I have something I should tell you. Our child has been +baptized. I took him myself to the house of Father Duffy several weeks +ago." + +"You did? How dared you?" cried Juliet, angrily. + +"I had the same right to take him to Father Duffy as have you to take +him to Dr. Browne. You were very ill at the time; I did not like to +wait." + +"It doesn't matter at all," cried Juliet, recovering herself, "I will +take him to St. Mark's just the same." + +"You should inform Dr. Browne, however, that the child has been already +baptized." + +"_He_ will not think he has been baptized; but I will tell him, and let +him know how unfairly you have dealt with me." + +Juliet did not know what her husband was aware of, that Dr. Browne, or +any Episcopal clergyman, would consider baptism at the hands of a +Catholic priest as true and valid. + +The Sunday appointed for the christening drew near. On the Saturday +preceding, Juliet called on Dr. Browne. Having largely expatiated upon +her happy anticipations of the morrow, she proceeded to relate to the +rector the march her husband had stolen upon her. + +"And do you not know, Mrs. Temple," said the doctor, surprised, "that, +if your child has been baptized by Father Duffy, that is sufficient? +There is no need for our ceremony to-morrow," and the rector saw in +imagination a handsome fee that failed to reach his grasp. + +"Is it possible," cried Juliet, disappointed and grieved to the heart, +"that you consider baptism in the Catholic Church of any worth +whatsoever?" + +"Most assuredly we do," answered the doctor. + +"But I thought they were idolaters and heathens. How can heathens +baptize?" + +"The Romish was the first Apostolic Church; after many years it imbibed +errors and became corrupt. The Church of which we are members, which +should really be termed Catholic and not Episcopal, came out from her, +retaining her truth, rejecting her errors and superstitions. We maintain +that the Church of Christ must be Apostolic, therefore are compelled to +admit that to have been the true Church from which we sprang. We are +really a branch of the Romish Church, unpalatable as it may be to some +of us." + +Had Juliet given attention to the rector's theology, she would have +remarked that it was giving the Romish Church too much credit. But for +her his words fell idly; she was intent on having her baby christened at +St. Mark's. + +"But, Dr. Browne, nobody knows my baby has been baptized. Cannot the +christening go on just the same?" + +"By no means," spoke the clergyman, decidedly. "It is contrary to +custom, and to the laws of the Church." + +Juliet went home sick at heart. So many preparations, and all for +nothing; so many hopes and dreams, and all blown up like bubbles. In her +grief and confusion the complicated question as to whether her child +were a Catholic or an Episcopalian did not intrude itself. + +She did stop to marvel, however, as to whether her husband had given +more than one name to the baby. She had intended his second name should +be St. Leger. But her husband was so absent-minded, she presumed to say +that he had forgotten all about it. Upon questioning him he looked up +somewhat confused. + +"I had indeed forgotten your intention. I do remember now of having +heard you speak of St. Leger; I do remember." + +"So you had him christened without a middle name, plain John Temple! I +wonder you didn't go to the length of giving him your own name in full, +John Patrick Temple!" + +"That I did do, my dear; it was my father's name, and I never thought +but what it had been all settled between us." + +This was too much for Juliet's patience, already tried. She stamped her +feet, wrung her hands, and cried aloud despairingly. + +When, at length, able to articulate, she poured upon John Temple's ears +such a shower of words as must have refreshed the very springs of his +nature. She concluded thus: + +"You are the most set, stupid, obstinate man in this world, and selfish +too. It was not enough that I should have given him your old-fashioned, +homely, plain name of John, when Alphonsus, Adolphus, or Rinaldo would +have suited me so much better, but you must put in that low, vulgar, +most hateful of all names--Patrick! A Patrick in our own house, for our +only child! By and bye, he will be going by the name of Pat. _My_ +child--the son of a St. Leger--baptized by a Catholic priest and called +Pat, just like the dozen other infant nobodies he had baptized the same +day, no doubt. Nothing to distinguish him from the vulgar herd--a paddy +among paddies! O John Temple, I wish I had never seen your face and +eyes!" + +John Temple seized hurriedly his hat, and without a word went out from +the presence of his wife. To say that he was not angry would be untrue. +Above his anger, however, swelled emotions of surprise and wonder. +Surprise and wonder that the beautiful Juliet St. Leger, during six +months of intimate courtship, so successfully could have veiled, under +constant guise of amiability, the weak, pettish nature which she was now +so often exhibiting. + +Of a truth, he had been simple enough to become attracted by her +exceeding beauty of face and figure; but these accidents would never +have held a man of his sterling sense and uprightness had he not been +led to believe it associated with a corresponding beauty of mind and +disposition. + +For a brief while this strong man yielded to an overwhelming sense of +loss and regret. The memory of his excellent mother came back, by +comparison, to increase his painful confusion. + +"My mother, my good mother," he sighed, "noblest and best of Christian +women, for me you died one year too soon. You at least would have read +aright the heart of Juliet. Sainted mother, for thy sake, for all our +sakes, I will do well by Juliet. Since it is as it is, God help me, I +will not fail." + +And Juliet, after the anger had cooled in her heart, and the flush died +out somewhat in her cheek, mused thus: + +"Was ever another such man as John Temple since the days of Job the +patient? There is no satisfaction in scolding him. Not a word will he +say, but march off dignified as any Lord Admiral. A grand way that is of +heaping coals on my head. I wish I could learn to bite my tongue, as I +know he does his. I am really afraid he will come to disrespect and +despise me. Why can not I mend my ways? But it was aggravating, wasn't +it, Johnnie," turning to his babyship, "to give mamma's darling a very, +very horrible name, and have water poured on his sweet little head by a +naughty, wicked, Irish Romish priest. Yes, that it was, Johnnie dear, +and we won't stand it, will we, Johnnie darling?" + +Johnnie signified his concurrence of sentiment by a masterly plunge of +his fat fingers into his precious mamma's curls, which entanglement +caused a rapid "change to come o'er the spirit of her dream." + +The anticipated grand Sunday was spent at home by Juliet, in her own +room. The furniture in the best chamber was still graced by her +unappropriated apparel. The christening robe, heavy with embroidery, +hung as if for a crime from its temporary gallows. Juliet stepped in, +viewing them but an instant, then withdrew, locking the door behind her. +Had she seen the seven hanging heads of Bluebeard's decapitated wives, +she would not have been more pained. She returned to her room to weep +over her poor baby, which she regarded as a martyr. Yes, ill-treated had +he been, contemptuously treated; she could have no more pride in him: +henceforth he would be to her an object of pity. + +Going and returning from Mass that morning, John Temple began to inquire +if he had not indeed rather wronged his wife, in giving that name to the +child, which he knew to be so repugnant to her taste. He would not have +liked his child to be called Luther or Calvin. He had been thoughtless +and stupid to be sure. Reaching home, he sought Juliet. He found her in +her oldest wrapper, her face red with weeping, her hair frightfully +unkempt. + +"Juliet," he began, kindly, "I would never have given Johnnie that +name--" + +"But you did give it to him," interrupted Juliet. + +"I did; but giving very little heed to the name. You were very +dangerously sick. The physician declared you could not live six hours, +unless change took place for the better. The child had been ailing. I +thought of baptism for both of you--to the child it could be given. I +ordered a carriage, put the nurse and child in and drove to Father +Duffy's. I had not thought of the name until asked by the priest. In the +confusion of the moment I gave it as I did. I should not have insisted +on the name had you been with me. It should have been anything you +wished. When he becomes old enough to be confirmed the name can be +changed." + +"His name shall never be written with a P. It shall be written J. St. +Leger Temple. I will get Dr. Browne to put it upon the Registry. Does +Father Duffy record names too?" + +Mr. Temple replying in the affirmative, the young mother became seized +with another spasm of terror. + +"Then Father Duffy believes he has got that child in the Catholic +Church, I suppose! O, what a fearful piece of work you have made of it! +No doubt, like King Solomon, he will be for dividing the child, that he +may get at least half its soul for purgatory. And if I had died, you +would have brought up dear little Johnnie a Catholic! Your great hurry +for his baptism shows it. That is the regard you would have shown for my +memory! But I am not dead yet; and while I live, the child goes with me +to St Mark's. I will still do all _I_ can to bring him up respectably." + +A day or two after appeared in the city a foreign songstress who was +setting the whole world mad. John Temple took his wife to hear her. She +threw off, as they had been a bundle of straw, all these troubles that +had so crazed her. She unlocked the best chamber, went in, and came out +looking beautiful as when a bride. Among her friends again she appeared +as if no cloud of sorrow had ever darkened her life. + +John Temple recognized his wife again. By these repeated scenes of +sunshine and storm, he learned to rejoice in the one, and to remain +undisturbed in the other; against the exuberance of one to present the +parasol of calmness, and the umbrella of patience to ward off descending +floods. + +Three years later, one winter's evening at tea, the dining-room servant +informed John, upon his inquiring for her mistress, that that lady +wished to see him in the best chamber. He had not seen her since early +in the morning. At dinner he had been told that she was lying down, and +wished not to be disturbed. Having hurried through his tea, he repaired +to the room designated. The first object that met his view was very +large Mrs. Biggs overflowing the arm-chair, with a roll of white flannel +in her lap, over which Althea and Johnny were absorbingly bending. + +"We've got a baby, papa!" "Mrs. Biggs has brought us a baby!" cried out +the children simultaneously. + +Mr. Temple evinced the greatest surprise, of course, but walked straight +up to his wife. She smiled upon him mischievously, saying: + +"You are surprised to find me here and not in our own room?" + +When the perplexed husband had nodded his head, the wife continued: + +"I wished to be up-stairs for two reasons: the second is because they +say it is a sign that the child who beholds the light for the first time +above stairs will be surely rich; and the first, because--because--O, +John, I have stolen a march on _you_ this time--I wanted Dr. Browne to +be sent for and the christening over with before you should know there +was a baby in the house. Little Flora Isabella Ernestine has been +already christened;" and the wife's eyes were full of triumph. + +"All right," replied John Temple, smiling grimly; and he was fain to +kiss his wife, and to cast a satisfied glance at the "sole daughter of +his house and heart," which was so royally blessed with abundance of +name. In his view the child was not yet baptized, and at a convenient +season he would take it to Father Duffy; but he would not trouble his +wife by disclosing this intention. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + +NEW MISTRESS AT KENNONS. + + + "When a woman will, she will, you may depend on't, + When she won't, she won't, and there's an end on't." + +Mrs. Jerusha Thornton Rush, from the time of Ellice's death, had firmly +resolved on marrying Duncan Lisle. He, on the other hand, had firmly +resolved never to allow that scheming widow to supplant his lost wife. + +Whether her will was stronger than his, or whether he changed his mind, +it matters not; at the end of three years Mrs. Rush had carried her +point and become Mrs. Lisle--one of the incomprehensibilities which may +be left without comment. + +She had struggled so long and doubtfully for the prize, that, by the +time she had won it, she was disposed to undervalue and despise it. + +"I will make him feel in his turn, when in my power, how charming the +sensation of being spitted or speared!" she had threatened, and she kept +her word. + +"I jist knowed it from de fust," declared Aunt Amy, sorrow and anger in +her tones, and the Indian expression assuming mastery in her face. +"Somehow I jist felt it all over me dat dat woman would come aroun' +massa and jes make him marry her. She's 'witched him; she's gin him +love-potions, I make no doubt; and I 'spec's"--here she lowered her +voice to a whisper--"I 'spec's she's sold herself to de debil to make +him help her. Nuthin' else could ever 'duced Massa Duncan to marry such +a--such a crocodile. He'll never be sorry but onc't, and 'dats all his +life." + +"Der's an end to all our 'joyment," sighed Chloe, grown more weighty in +flesh; "de Lord knows what's going to become of us--an' all her host o' +bad niggers mixin' in wid our'n, and she domineerin' ober eberyting. O, +it's an orful bad day for us, sure! An', then, that hateful boy o' +her'n--he's worse 'an pizen, notstan'ing his slick, ile-y ways--'tween +him an' her we'll stan' mighty slim chance. She bad's bad can be, an' he +worse." + +China shed tears silently over her needle, giving now and then a groan. +She, too, was haunted by a presentiment that her happy days were over. +For her, Miss Rusha, as all the servants called her, had ever evinced +unconcealed dislike, for the very reason, it would seem, that it irked +her to behold any person in peace and contentment. She especially hated +meek, gentle, uncomplaining people, and loved to render them +uncomfortable. And China, Ellice's favorite house-servant, was so good, +gentle, and obedient, that her former mistress had seldom found fault +with her. + +Mr. Lisle, immediately after his marriage, had taken his bride North on +a visit to the principal cities, intending to call upon the Temples, to +make acquaintance with his loved sister's child. + +His stay at this latter place was short indeed, for Miss Rusha, +presuming to find fault with Juliet's mode of training, or rather of +indulging Althea, had provoked the latter lady's ire to such a degree as +to render any further tarrying out of the question. For some reason or +other, Mrs. Lisle would have persuaded her husband to make an effort for +gaining the guardianship of his niece. This, however, he peremptorily +refused to do, although he became greatly attached to the child, who was +lovely and winning to a remarkable degree. + +Upon the return to Kennons of the newly-married people, a tutor was +secured for the two boys, Thornton and Hubert. It was soon found, +however, that Kennons was not large enough for them both; that they +could not study peaceably in the same room, nor, without a quarrel, at +least in words, exercise upon the same grounds. The tutor was +overwearied with incessant struggles to keep the two from variance. He +advised that one should be sent away, or, if both should be sent, they +should go to different points of the compass. Mrs. Lisle would not +consent for her only child to go away from her; as to Thornton, he +declared he would not be sent away to school. Hubert was more willing, +at home his life was a misery on account of Thornton and his mother; any +other place would be preferable, thought this motherless boy of eleven +years. He was accordingly sent to a Northern school, where, with +intervals of vacation, he spent the next eight years of his life. + +The servants at Kennons had not been mistaken in their calculations. The +new mistress sowed divisions and discord with a lavish hand. Duncan was +annoyed with complaints against this and that one, until his patience +gave way, and he plainly told his wife that he would not listen to them; +that his servants were uncommonly good until she had come in the midst +of them. Greatly exasperated at this, she treated them still more +harshly. She placed over them her own servants, not out of love for +them, but to humiliate those who had been the faithful servants and +friends of her hated rival, Ellice. + +China was the first victim. She was too ladylike in her deportment, too +quiet and silent in her ways. She was ousted from her low rocker and +favorite window, deprived of her needle, which had in some sort become a +life-companion, and made to do all sorts of drudgery; no settled work, +but hurried from that, this, and the other; never knowing what was +coming next--the hardest kind of work--slavery, indeed. + +China endeavored to do faithfully all that she was bidden; sewing, +however, was her trade; she knew how to do naught else well; she was +consequently chidden and scolded from morning until night. + +Mrs. Lisle's antipathy toward her grew every day more strong. She sought +a cause for having her degraded from the rank of house-servant to +field-hand. She had employed more than one fruitless stratagem. + +China was very fond of oranges. Probably this taste had been cultivated +by her former mistress, who, also, being very partial to the same fruit, +often shared her stores with her favorite servant. Mrs. Lisle became +aware of this. She placed some oranges in the drawer of her bureau, +and, contrary to custom, ordered China to "set the room to rights." + +Morning after morning the fault-finding mistress counted her oranges, +and, to her disappointment, found not one missing. + +On the fourth morning the fatal drawer was left slightly drawn. As China +passed it with her duster the perfume caught her attention; she peeped +within, and the gleam of the oranges tempted her vision; she gazed at +them as did Eve at the apples; she took one in her hands, and thrust it +to her nose; she said to herself, "My dear Miss Ellice would have given +me some of these; Miss Rusha is too mean for human; perhaps she would +never miss one; if she did, how was she to know who took it?" and +thrusting the orange in her pocket, she finished hastily her work, went +out of sight and sound, and feasted upon the coveted dainty. No sooner +was it devoured than she repented heartily. The serpent had tempted her; +she had yielded; now, when the mischief was done, he called her a fool, +and promised her she should be discovered; he did not tell her how soon; +and though China was filled with fears, she little dreamed that that +very moment her relentless enemy was triumphing over her success. + +"An orange has been stolen from my drawer," exclaimed Miss Rusha, +severely, to the knot of servants summoned together by her order; +"stolen without leave or license," reiterated the angry mistress, +though, in truth, more secretly pleased than angry, "and I am bound to +know who is the offender. A thief shall not remain in this house; and I +here warn you all that she who proves to be the culprit shall be +condemned to the fields." + +The women and girls sidled about, grinning, ogling each other with +swimming eyes. China, however, was an exception; she looked neither to +the right nor left, but trembled, and was downcast. It flashed over her +quick mind instantly that for her a trap had been deliberately laid, and +she had stepped straight into it. + +China had heretofore prided herself upon her truthfulness and honesty; +to this she had been trained by the best of mistresses; and if there was +aught on earth she despised it was a deceitful, thieving servant. O, how +had she fallen! + +Buried in her own painful emotions, China had not noticed that the +question put to and denied by the others was now addressed to her. + +"Do you not hear? Are you deaf and dumb, China, that you do not answer +me? Speak, now! Did you, or did you not, steal this orange?" + +Thus suddenly aroused from this painful reverie to confront the angered +eyes of the mistress she both feared and hated, she hesitated, then +said, in a low tone, but defiantly: + +"_I did not._" + +At that moment China hated herself more than her mistress, and glanced +helplessly around, as if for some fig-leaf beneath which to hide. + +"You did not!" repeated the mistress slowly and with emphasis, fastening +upon the poor girl her merciless eyes. "You say you did not; all the +servants say they did not. We will see." + +Mrs. Lisle produced a tiny paper from her pocket, and emptied its +powdered contents into half a wine-glass of water; stirring the mixture, +she gave a spoonful to each suspected person, and then ordered them to +stand in a row in the back-yard. + +This cruel woman watched to see the sable faces turned to a deathly +yellow; ipecacuanha was a successful rack and torture. To all, however, +but to China, did the consciousness of innocence afford alleviation. +Fresh pieces of peel ejected from her stomach gave ample witness as to +who had purloined the orange. All her companions were surprised, some +grieved, some rejoiced; for + + "Base Envy withers at another's joy, + And hates that excellence it cannot reach." + +"It is well for pride to have a fall," said one. + +"She thought herself so much better'n all the rest on us," quoth +another. + +"I allus thought she wa'nt no better'n she should be, for all her +puttin' on such airs," spoke a third contemptuously. + +"She won't find no rocking-chair, nor no time to sing love-songs, nor +make herself bows and fine lady fixins out in de corn and 'bacco patch. +Heigho!" crowed Dinah. + +Amy's Indian eyes swam in tears, and she and the mighty Chloe cast +pitiful glances at their disgraced companion. + +"She never did it of her own 'cord," thought the shrewd Amy; "Miss Rusha +jes threw on her her spell; she 'witched her as she did Massa; she made +her go do it; she jes did now, so!" + +"You will not enter the house again," said Mrs. Lisle to the proved +culprit. "My Jane will bring your things from Aunt Amy's cabin, which +she has allowed you to occupy--you are never to let me see you about the +place again--never--or you will rue the day. I will see Mr. Fuller, the +overseer, who will assign you a place. Now go, deceitful thief and +liar--your punishment is but too mild." + +China, in going out from the home of her master, would fain have gone +around by the grave of Ellice. But, besides thinking she might be +watched, she felt in her disgrace too unworthy to kneel upon that sacred +soil. + +So, scarcely able to hold herself upright, which she must needs do, in +order to support her bundle upon her head, she walked wearily onward, +from the fair white house of Kennons, down the well-worn path that led +to the rude, unsightly cabins of the field-hands, still more rude. + +She was still weak, and suffering from effects of the harsh emetic, and +this, with her shame and sorrow at her crime, more than her banishment, +rendered her hopeless and wretched. + +Duncan Lisle was riding slowly homeward from a consultation with his +overseer. Whose was that reeling, swaying figure in the path before him? +Not China of pleasant face, of quiet speech and mien? No, and yes. What +could it mean? What mortal sickness of mind or body had wrought such +ghastly woe in the face but yesterday so placid? + +"Are you China, or China's ghost?" questioned he, drawing rein as he +came up to this favorite house-servant. + +"You have said it, master Duncan; I am but the ghost of poor China," and +the ponderous bundle dropped first to the horse's nose and then at his +forefeet, while her face fell into her trembling hands, her tears +flowing down through her fingers, the first that she had shed. + +"Tell me all about it, China--but the sun is hot, come under the shade +of this tree," and the master led the way to an umbrageous beech close +by. There, still resting upon his horse, while China leaned against the +enormous trunk, the story was told of the day's doings without +exaggeration or extenuation. + +Though it was a clear story of theft and falsehood, Duncan Lisle +naturally took the same view of it as had the humble Amy. The master of +Kennons had not been ignorant of his wife's systematic persecution of +this inoffensive servant. He had more than once spoken to her on the +subject--but finding he had but made the matter worse, ceased to +interfere. Now, he suspected China to be the victim of a successful +plot. His wife had made a bold move, and without his sanction. A more +fiery man, yielding to indignation and to a sense of the injustice +wrought, would have taken China home again, saying to his wife both by +word and action, that he was still master in his own house, and of his +own servants. But Duncan Lisle knew that life for China at the house was +over. She had been long enough suffering incessant martyrdom under the +heavy sway of the new mistress. Yes, it would be better for her to go +away. He regarded her pityingly; then that emotion was quickly reflected +from her to himself. + +"_She_ can go away--_she_ can find happiness elsewhere. O, is there not +somewhere in the wide world a place of beautiful peace?" groaned the +unhappy man to himself, while his eyes wandered involuntarily toward the +white column that gleamed in the sunlight nearly a mile distant. By an +effort the master recovered himself. + +"So she has sent you down to be with Bet, and Nan, and Kizzie, and Sam, +Jake, Jim, and all those fellows? You can't live there a month. Would +you like your freedom, China? Would you like to go to Richmond--you +could get plenty of places, either as nurse or seamstress?" + +"O, master Duncan, I should die if I had to leave Kennons"--for this +first thought of complete separation from all she had known and loved +was intolerable. + +"You can try it then down yonder. I will ride down to-night or +to-morrow, and speak to Mr. Fuller. You can be thinking it over. You +have been a good girl--I owe you something. If you can't stand it +there--and I know you can't--I will give you papers of manumission and +money to take you to Richmond. You have a close mouth--do not speak of +this. Well, keep up heart and God bless you." + +The master and servant parted--the one to ride wearily to his unpeaceful +home, the other to journey along more hopefully to the shadeless cabins +in the fields. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + +CHINA--UNCLE MAT'S PRAYER MEETING. + + +Compared to the field-hands, who were little more than heathen and +barbarian, our favorite China was a princess. One day and night among +them proved to the unhappy girl that her master was in the right--she +could not live with them. If she had met with suspicion, jealousy, and +envy beneath her master's roof, she could not expect to escape it in her +new home, where ignorance and all the baser passions ruled. + +Toward night on the following day, which was Saturday, the master +appeared at the cabins. He found China weeping disconsolately in the +shade of a tree. So profoundly was she buried in her grief, she saw not +her master until she heard his voice. For many hours had she watched his +coming. When she had ceased to look for him, his kind voice aroused her +to a momentary gladness. + +"O, Master Duncan! Master Duncan!" was all she could utter. + +"Bad enough, yes; I knew how it would be; I knew you would be willing to +leave Kennons after you had tried this. I have just returned from Flat +Rock; have had all the papers made for you; China, you are a free +woman!" + +"O, Master Duncan! good Master Duncan!" was all she could say again. + +"Here, China, this is probably the last present I shall ever make you," +handing to her a portmonnaie containing a few pieces of silver and gold, +as also the invaluable papers of manumission. He withdrew it again as +she was extending her hand, remarking: + +"It is better, however, that it should be in the hands of Mr. Fuller. He +is to go with you to-night to Flat Rock. You will remain at the 'Bald +Eagle' until the train passes on Monday. You could remain at Petersburg +if you chose, but my friends at Richmond can help you. I have written +them, and they will see you properly cared for. Mr. Fuller will hand you +this"--referring to the portmonnaie--"and you must guard it carefully. +It is not sufficient that you carry it in your pocket; you should +secrete it in some part of your dress, fastening it securely. You have a +needle and thread? Well, then, do as I have told you. Be a good +girl--honest and truthful; when I come to Richmond I will see you. +There, don't cry now; you can yet be happy. I must have another talk +with Fuller;"--seeing that personage approaching--"I shall not see you +again; take care of yourself, and good-bye;"--and the master stretched +down his hand--for he was still on horseback--which China grasped and +presumed to kiss. + +"There, that will do, my good girl; and don't forget what your Miss +Ellice taught you." + +This unusual reference to her former mistress was another stab for poor +China. As her master rode away, she threw herself down upon the ground, +making mournful moans that might have softened the hardest heart. + +The field-hands, coming up from work an hour later, beheld with rage and +dismay the intended victim of their malice mounted upon one of the +fleetest horses upon the plantation, and Mr. Fuller all ready to mount +another. He was but waiting to give additional orders to this unruly +gang. This being done, each equestrian gave a slight stroke of the whip, +and the horses galloped away from a hundred staring eyes. + +"Let us fling a stone at her," said one. + +"Let us set up a mighty howl," suggested a second. + +"And git a mighty floggin' for yer pains," sneered a third, who was +possessed of a grain of discretion. + +China's heart lightened as she left the cabins and the intolerable red +sands upon which they were situated. It was not the first time she had +seen the uncouth faces and forms of the motley group who had been +vengefully regarding her; but their appearance had seemed doubly +appalling when viewed in the light of being her associates for life. Out +of their sight she breathed freely again, and coming shortly into the +main road, a feeling almost of joy seized her. + +"I will not weep or be sad any more. I will leave the old life behind +me, and Miss Rusha too, thank the Lord. Ah, poor Master Duncan! what a +life he must live of it--the best master that ever servant had--good, +kind Master Duncan! The trees hide Kennons from view; I shall not see +it again. I would liked to have said farewell to Bessie, and to Chloe +and Amy, and to Miss Rusha's Kizzie, too. I wonder if I ever shall see +one of them any more;" and in spite of her resolution not to cry, China +was obliged to wipe the tears that blinded her eyes. + +Mr. Fuller was a model overseer. Nobody knew from what quarter of the +world he had hailed. He had been overseer for Duncan Lisle during seven +years, and no one had ever heard him allude to any antecedents. He was a +silent, reserved man of fifty years, perhaps, possessed good judgment, +discerning sense of right and wrong, was inflexibly just, and invariably +faithful to his word. + +Duncan Lisle might well felicitate himself upon having secured so +invaluable an assistant. He had never found, and was never expecting to +find, his confidence misplaced. Trust begets trust, and master and +overseer had become excellent friends. + +Mr. Fuller had, however, a history of his own, but it lay away in +England, where he prudently resolved to let it remain forever buried. +For China he discharged his mission faithfully, exchanging with her only +indispensable words, and, confiding to her care the precious +portmonnaie, bade adieu both to her and to the "Bald Eagle," returning +to Kennons after midnight. + +China formed a pleasant acquaintance with the servants of the "Bald +Eagle," and passed her Sunday very agreeably. At night she was invited +to attend Uncle Mat's prayer-meeting. Uncle Mat was a personage of +importance, not only in his own estimation, but in that of many others. +His master was a drunken fellow, who had squandered most of his +substance. By degrees he had lost the greater part of his plantation, +had sold the most of his servants, his wife had died, children married +and gone, and but for Mat he would have gone to utter ruin long ago. It +was Mat who interfered in bloody quarrels, receiving blows and +vituperations himself; it was Mat who walked by his master's side from +elections, fairs, shows, etc., steadying him when he reeled, picking him +up when he fell, dragging him from horses' feet and drunken men's +knives, and keeping the breath of life in him by sheer watchfulness and +unflagging exertion. + +In return for this devotion, the master, Dick Rogers, gave but abuse of +hand and tongue. But Uncle Mat was a Christian. He had a gift at prayer +and exhortation. He could read, strange to say, and sing, of course. Mat +was older than his master. Dick had been an only son, petted and +spoiled. Mat had been his body-servant from his babyhood. Dick's father, +upon his dying bed, had exacted from Mat a promise that he would always +have a care for his reckless son. Mat had fulfilled his vow. Mat had +learned to read by hearing the governess teach Dick. To shame the latter +into diligence, it was a habit with Miss Train to call up the black boy, +who exhibited more capacity and willingness than her pupil. + +The servant was of a serious, reflective turn of mind. He became +converted at a Methodist camp-meeting, and as he became a kind of +preacher among his own people, he staid converted. He had one fault, to +speak not of others. He was irascible to a great degree; a mosquito or a +flea would drive him into a passion. But throughout his long career as +guardian of his master, he had been never known to lose patience with +him. Even mothers become vexed exceedingly with undutiful children; but +this care of Mat for his worthless master exceeded even that of a mother +for her child. Exceeded? Nay, we will say equalled. + +It was somewhat rare in the slave States for servants to meet for +religious purposes; insurrection might brood under such a cover. Mat, +however, was so well known and so universally esteemed in his +neighborhood, that he was allowed to hold his prayer-meetings every +Sunday night. + +It was to one of these that China went with her new-made friends. Nancy +Carter's cabin was the meeting-house _pro tem_. It had been prepared for +the occasion by an elaborate trimming of oak leaves and green boughs. +Bouquets of flowers were interspersed with lights upon the preacher's +stand. This invasion against white people's customs was due probably to +the intense love which Afric's sons and daughters have for the +"beautiful flowers." + +Mat, tall and dignified always, seemed magnified in proportions and +dignity when installed behind his stand of flowers and lights. His +initial proceeding was invariably a great flourish of his white cotton +handkerchief. + +If Mat had a source of vanity deeper than another, it was of this +above-mentioned article; and this, too, was so well known of him, that +most of his presents consisted of handkerchiefs. He had, among his +deposits, a good-sized box full of these useful and ornamental +inventions. There was one from Lucy and Lizzie, four Sallies, three +Dinahs, three Betties, two or three Janes, as many Anns, and hosts of +others too numerous to mention. And every one of those donors looked +steadily at the flourish of the preacher, if happily her own gift had +come to the coveted honor. + +The first prayer consisted of very large words very fervently uttered. +This was comparatively brief, as a lengthy one for the whole world was +to follow the first hymn. + +Mat had adopted, of course, the custom of his superiors in the matter of +singing. He read from the book the first two lines of the hymn, which +the congregation seized and sung to the best of their ability. Two lines +more were read, when music of voice, if not of words, became +distinguishable. + +Upon this occasion the preacher seemed troubled with unusual +indistinctness of vision. He took his glasses from his nose more than +once, violently rubbing them with his spotless handkerchief. Taking up +his book for the third time, his eyes or his spectacles seemed still to +be at fault. Perplexed and irritated, he exclaimed, unguardedly: + +"Dog-gone-it! my eyes are dim; I cannot see to read this hymn." + +The congregation supposing it all right, tuned up, and repeated it, +though one would have been at great loss to make sense out of the +myriad-syllabled confusion. + +The preacher, surprised, attempted to explain. He said energetically, +book still in hand: + +"I did not mean to sing that hymn, I only meant my eyes were dim." + +The simple people, still supposing the hymn to be continued, again +poured forth volumes of sound. + +In vain the preacher gesticulated, stamped, and threatened. So varied +usually were the performances, this was thought to be but part of the +programme. When the music hushed again the preacher cried: + +"The devil must be in you all, that is no hymn to sing at all!" + +Were those black people wilfully stupid? By no means. They did not know +but they were doing as they had always done. The hymn-book was Greek to +them, words were words; therefore they took up Uncle Mat's last words as +innocently as if they had been + + "On Jordan's stormy banks I stand, + And cast a wishful eye." + +Uncle Mat's patience gave out completely; he hurled his book at the +musical leader's head: + +"Dere, now see if ye can stop yer 'fernal noise. What bizness yer sing +dat? Dats nothin' for to sing. You don't know nothin'. You biggest heap +o' wooly heads I eber did see. Was der eber such a pack o' +ignerant-ramuses eber in dis world afore? I answer 'firmatively--no! +What's de use o' temptin' to preach to sich people? Dey wouldn't know if +one was to rise from de dead. Not know de diff'rence 'tween psalm tunes +an nuffin else! Dis people be dismissed." + +The latter sentence was pronounced most disdainfully. The chorister, +with head unbroken, and temper unruffled, arose and begged they might +all be forgiven their heedlessness; it would be so great a +disappointment to have the meeting broken up so prematurely, it would +give them great pleasure if Uncle Mat would be _so_ kind as to dispense +with singing and proceed to prayers and exhortations. One or two other +prominent members followed in much the same strain, flattering the +indignant preacher by making special reference to his eloquence and +popularity. + +This had the desired effect. Uncle Mat became mollified, and wiping the +angry perspiration from his brow, he embarked upon his longest +prayer--during which our China and many others fell fast asleep. + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + +KIZZIE. + + +"Lucy," said Mrs. Lisle, to a dwarfed child of thirteen years, who was +one of those creatures expected to "run two ways at once," "run, Lucy, +and tell Kizzie to come straight here to me." + +The winged child came speedily back, accompanied by the weaver, a stolid +looking old negress named Kizzie. + +"Kizzie," exclaimed her mistress, "I know you have stolen the cover to +that barrel that has been standing for so long outside the store-room." + +"What for should I want wid de cover, Missis?" inquired the servant. + +"That is for you to tell, and right soon too--do you hear me?" + +"I have never touched the cover, Missis." + +"I do not believe you. Who has then?" + +"Sure, an' I doesn't know. You allus lays eberyting on to me, Missis, +when I'se jes as in'cent--" + +"I wish to hear none of your palaver. You have stolen from me +repeatedly; you know you have been just as hateful as you could be ever +since--ever since Joe went away." + +Mrs. Lisle had not designed this reference to Joe. Any mention of his +name only made Kizzie more intractable. + +Kizzie had been standing upon the threshold of her mistress' chamber, +upon which she now sank down as if she had been shot. She had rolled +herself into a ball, her grey head buried in her lap, from which issued +the most protracted unearthly howl. This was succeeded by passionate +ejaculations, in which "my poor Joe--my poor dear Joe, my baby--my last +and only one"--were alone distinguishable. + +"Kizzie, stop that acting, and get up from there," commanded Mrs. Lisle. + +The ball swayed to and fro, but evinced no disposition for unbending. + +"Bring me the whip, Lucy--we shall see." + +The blows fell heavy and fast, but as for outward demonstration, cry or +moan, that human form might as well have been a cotton bale. + +The wearied hand of the mistress dropped by her side. She leaned against +the casement panting for breath. Then Kizzie uprose tearless and stern. + +"Miss Rusha, after this cruel floggin', I've a right to speak; but if +you had a human heart I would not have this much to say. One after +another ye sold my four big boys to the slave-buyer. You promised you +would leave me my baby--my Joe. When he was fourteen years old you sold +him too. You rob me of my five boys, and you 'cuse _me_ of stealin' a +barrel-cover! Miss Rusha, de judgments of de Lord will come upon you. +Dis is my prayer, ebery day, ebery hour. Ye may whip, ye may kill--my +prayer is mine own prayer to pray." + +"Lucy," exclaimed Mrs. Lisle, now able again to speak, "run down to +Thornton Hall and tell Mr. Hill to come here at once." + +Mr. Hill was Mrs. Lisle's overseer. + +"You will do no such thing, Lucy; and, madam, you have done enough," +said the indignant voice of Mr. Lisle, who had entered upon the scene. +"Go to your cabin, Kizzie; call for Amy and take her along with you." + +Kizzie disappeared, and Mr. Lisle, meeting boldly the angered face of +his wife, inquired into the origin of this disgraceful scene. + +"Kizzie is mine, not yours. I have a right to do with my slaves as +pleases me," said the wife. + +"If you have a slave who deserves kindness at your hands, it is Kizzie. +You have cruelly wronged her. To have killed her outright would have +been a kindness compared to the injury you have inflicted upon her." + +"How you talk, Duncan Lisle! One would think you a northern abolitionist. +I understand whence you imbibed such principles"--sneeringly--"just as +though one has not a perfect right to sell a slave if he wishes to! +Don't talk to me in any such way. I have done nothing that I need be +sorry for. But Kizzie is indeed the most hateful slave on the +plantation. I believe she steals just for the sake of stealing. What +earthly use could she have for that cover, which she denies having +taken, but which has mysteriously disappeared just when I happened to +want it?" + +"To what cover do you refer?" questioned her husband. + +He was informed. + +"I saw some little black fellows rolling something of the kind back of +the stables this morning. Lucy, go hunt them up, and have the cover +found. Is such a trifle sufficient to drive you into a passion, in which +you accuse and punish an innocent person wrongfully?" + +"I repeat to you, Mr. Lisle, that I shall do as I please with my own +servants, and yours too, as you will find, and _have_ found, I should +think. Moreover, I am not going to be lectured by you as if I were a +child"--Mrs. Lisle flung herself out of the room, to vent her bad humor +upon whatever ill-starred persons should cross her path. + +To do justice to Mrs. Lisle, she had intended to have sold both Kizzie +and her son to the same buyer. As she herself said, she was always +having trouble with Kizzie. There were times when she was positively +afraid of her. Just before the proposed sale she had had a serious +difficulty with her. Mistress and servant regarded each other as two +enraged tigers might do, whenever they met. Mrs. Lisle made up her mind +she would have Kizzie taken to the Court House and sold. Court was to be +holden in a week or so; at such a time more or less slaves were put up +at auction. + +Kizzie was not sorry when informed of the proposed plan; though she +shared, with others of her class, a horror of being "sold South," she +had come to think she could not possibly fall into more cruel hands. +Besides, in that region so terrible to the imagination of the slaves, +she might come across one or all of her lost sons! At any rate, she +would be beneath the same sky, and the dear hope of meeting them would +be a continual comfort. + +A whole day was consumed by Tippy--her real name was Xantippe--in +plucking out Aunt Kizzie's grey hairs, and in fixing her up to appear to +the best advantage for youth and sprightliness. She was only sixty, but +hard labor and severe usage had told upon her heavily. + +Aunt Kizzie, in her new linsey-woolsey and shining bandana as a turban, +started off in great glee for the Court House. That she might appear +there fresh, brisk, and pert, she was not suffered to walk, but +Washington, the coachman, was ordered to drive her in the ark of the +plantation wagon. Joe, smart, smiling, and newly-equipped in clothes, +sat by her side, scarcely knowing whether he had best share in his +mother's uncommon gaiety, or yield to his own anxious misgiving. + +Another thing contributed to Aunt Kizzie's happiness. All the way to the +Court House she was at perfect liberty to caress her nosegay of pinks +and camomile. Kizzie had two grand passions; one was for her children, +the other for her fragrant pinks. If she was allowed a garden patch the +size of a hat-crown, it was devoted to her favorite flowers. She was +wont to have her loom festooned with them; she drank in their perfume as +did her web its woof; by night she had them scattered over her pillow, +that, even in sleep, she might not lose their presence. + +"I should think pinks would grow out of her nose," the servants were in +the habit of remarking. It really often looked like they did, for, +morning and evening, at her milking, her nose, instead of her hand, +served as bouquet-holder. + +Over the rough roads then, from Thornton Hall to the Court House, her +attention was devoted to Joe and her pinks. She was to be sold--that was +true--but then she had left a hated mistress. She had with her all she +loved, her immense nosegay, her baby Joe, and, in her small bundle, her +one pair of ruffled pillow-slips. She was starting out in the world +again, and the world looked to her unaccountably new and beautiful. + +It was morning now that shone upon Aunt Kizzie and her child. But night +came, utterly dark and cheerless night, to both mother and boy. The two +were put upon the block together. The boy showed for himself. But the +sexagenarian human chattel was mercilessly scrutinized. She was made to +sing, dance, and run. Her red turban was torn off, and in spite of the +hirsutian manipulations to which she had been subjected, her wool +appeared, like Shakspeare's spirits, mixed, black, white, and grey. + +She was seized by the nose and chin, as if she had been a horse, and +made to distend her jaws even painfully. She experienced a qualm or two +when she thought of what a story her few remaining broken teeth would +tell. Still, like the world and all the "rest of mankind," she had +never fully realized that she had passed her prime and her usefulness. + +This purchaser did not want her, nor did that, nor alas! the other! Each +and every one were eager for the boy. The auctioneer's instructions had +been to sell the two together, if possible, if not, at all events to +sell the boy, as he would command a good price, and _money must be_ +raised. + +Kizzie went wild when she saw her boy knocked off to a man who refused +to take her, even as a gift! + +O angels in heaven, what pitiful sights do ye not behold upon this earth +of ours! Had ye no drop of balm from your vials of tender mercy to pour +into the desolate heart of the stricken slave-mother, as she returned +homeward in the dark, clutching frantically at her withered pinks, as +did the talons of the vulture of grief at her wounded heart! + +This blow to poor Kizzie occurred about the time of her mistress' +marriage. The price of her agony, the money obtained for Joe, was sent +to New York, and returned to Mrs. Rush in glittering jewels. Had this +haughty woman been capable of realizing her sin, the showy baubles would +have melted in the fiery furnace of her shame and contrition. + +Kizzie became a changed woman; crazed, as some thought. Joe had been her +baby, and her baby still at fourteen. How could her baby get along +without his mother? This was the burden of her complaint, her unceasing +utterance of sorrow. And still she lived on, sitting from morning until +night at her loom, her tear of sorrow or sigh of despair inwoven with +every thread, and from her bleeding heart going up the incessant prayer +for Heaven's vengeance upon her persecutor. + +One day, not far off, shall it not be more tolerable for Kizzie than for +the beautiful mistress of Thornton Hall? + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + +TIME AND CHANGE. + + +Time and change! Why add the latter word? Doth not the former include +all? Doth not time sadly overcome all things? + +And this Time, which, according to Sir Thomas Brown, sitteth on a +sphinx, and looketh into Memphis and old Thebes, which reclineth on a +pyramid, gloriously triumphing, making puzzles of Titanian erections, +and turning old glories into dreams--or something to that effect. This +old Father Time, so much abused, misused, has given ten years to +Kennons, ten years to Philip and his second wife in the far away homes +of the Mussulman, ten years to the little Althea, who has bloomed into a +beautiful girl of fourteen, beneath the roof of her loving guardians, +John and Juliet Temple. + +Ten years! and the fiery war of words has been followed by the deadlier +fire of arms; civil war has raged over the sunny South, destroyed loving +homes, mutilated fair forms, blotted out countless lives, and sent +multitudes of souls unshriven before their Maker; but thanks be to God, +riveted bonds have been broken and the slave hath been set free! Grand +as was the sacrifice, infinite was the gain. + +"I thought," said Amy, when she stood on her mount of Pisgah, rolling up +her melancholy eyes to the heaven, whence her deliverance had come, "I +thought it would come some time, to our children, or our children's +children, but not in my time, and to me! Moses was in de wilderness +forty years; for what should I tink dat de Lord would gib us our liberty +sooner'n to his own faithful servant? And we to have our'n in four +years! But I knew it would come some time, sure as was a God in heaven. +Hadn't we been prayin' and prayin', an' beseechin', an' how could de +Lord stan' de prayers of such 'pressed, trodden people as we? Bress de +Lord, O my soul, an' all dat is in me!" + +Thousands like Amy sang their songs of deliverance. And like her, they +arose from the sad waters of their Babylon, took their harps from the +willows, seeking out joyfully new ways to lands of promise. + +Those persons who had been kind, nay, even moderately just to their +servants, were not at once abandoned. Some for months, some for years, +were still faithfully served for hire. As a rule, however, the freed +people scattered; but they went not far from their life-long homes. An +innate love for early scenes and associations kept them where they might +occasionally visit familiar persons and places. + +Duncan Lisle was now a grave man of fifty. Threads of silver shone in +his dark hair, but his tall form was erect and graceful as ever. He had +become, in manner and speech, exceedingly reserved; his countenance wore +almost habitually a melancholy, thoughtful expression. There were +times, however, when his still attractive face lighted up with the old +smile; and that smile revealed a gentle, noble spirit, still retaining +its freshness unchafed by the carking cares and vexatious trials to +which he had been daily subject. While to some men association with so +peculiar and trying a nature as Rusha Thornton's might have brought +moroseness and all unloveliness, Duncan Lisle, like the philosopher of +hemlock fame, had turned his wife's shrewishness into a coat of armor, +within which he preserved his soul serene, contemplative, and peaceful. +This is saying very much for Duncan Lisle. + +During the stormy period to which we have just referred, when the nation +was in her throes of anguish, Mr. Lisle remained loyal to the +Government. Aside from reason, common-sense, and humanity, he had seen +more than enough in his wife's treatment of servants to disgust him with +slavery. Though he took no active part, and, except when occasion +required, preserved his usual reticence upon this subject also, he was +nevertheless heart and soul upon the one side. + +It is needless to observe that his wife was upon the other extreme. The +idea of slavery was grateful to her intolerant nature. For herself she +acknowledged no superior. The very God Almighty of Heaven she never took +into _her_ account. Had she been Lucifer among the angels, she too would +have rebelled. Had she been daughter of Servius Tullius, she would have +ridden over the dead body of her father. The golden rule was for others +to practice, not for her; its Divine Author, the God-Man, was beyond her +comprehension; His teachings fit but for underlings and slaves. Though +scorning and hating the slave, she clung to slavery as if it were her +life's blood. She poured forth all the venom of her nature upon the +Northern foe, which was aiming to seize this petted horror from her +grasp. She recalled often the tyrant's wish; like him would have given +worlds had the subjects of Yankeedom but a single neck, that she might +sever the Gorgonian head at one happy stroke. + +She went almost wild upon the subject, and was the more violent that she +could not draw her husband into her views. It was not enough that he +should listen with apparent patience to her harangues, she demanded his +verbal assent to her opinions. His silence, his attempts at evasion, +provoked her equally as his firmly expressed disapproval. Nothing could +satisfy her. + +The marching of soldiers came even upon the grounds of Kennons. At times +the noise and smoke of battle filled the atmosphere, as had the direful +cholera thirty years before. + +Rusha Lisle would have turned Kennons into an hospital for Southern +soldiers. Even when her husband, hiding for his life, was hunted and +dogged by rebel soldiers, her hand fed them with food; _her_ hand that +was never known to be stretched forth in charity to the deserving; nay, +the roof, forbidden by prowling rebels to shelter its master, was +proffered to his enemies by its dishonored mistress. + +When tried beyond reason, Duncan Lisle arose in his wrath and asserted +his mastery. Well might any true woman have quailed before that +uprising, but not Rusha Thornton Lisle. A woman weaker-minded would +have packed her silver, gathered her valuables, and fled to Thornton +Hall, where she might harbor her dear rebels _ad infinitum_. This +strong-minded woman well knew that by such a course of action she would +be pleasing everybody but herself. She was not so fond of conferring +happiness, nor so capable of self-sacrifice. So she continued to wage +war within her household, more constantly vexatious to her husband, more +tyrannous to her servants. + +What added to Mrs. Lisle's bitterness was the conduct of her son. At the +opening of hostilities, he had joined a rebel company, inflated with the +idea that in a few weeks, or months at farthest, the Northern "mudsills" +would be overwhelmed and out of sight. No one, except his mother, had +talked louder and faster than himself. With his single hand he could +slay a dozen of the cowardly Yankees. + +After all this bravado, at the first smell of gunpowder, Thornton Rush +threw down his firearms in a panic and ran as if from a sweeping tempest +of fire and brimstone. Sleeping by day in hollow logs, traveling by +night with haste and stealth, he made his way to the hated Northern +lines, went as fast as cars could carry him to New York city, and, on a +flying steamer, sneaked to Europe. There, once landed, he wrote his +mother a letter. She had thought him dead, and mourned him proudly, as +for a hero fallen for his country. She half read his letter, and threw +it into the fire. Not dead, but a poltroon, a coward! She stamped her +foot with contempt. _Her_ son to lack courage?--_her_ son a deserter +from his post? She, woman as she was, would have gone into battle with +the courage of a Cćsar, the constancy of a Hannibal; but this son of +hers, in whose veins flowed the cowardly northern blood, what could she +expect of him, the son of Jude Rush?--and she curled her lip with +contempt for both father and son. She ceased to mention his name, and +revealed to no one that he still lived. Moreover, she disdained +answering his letter, even had she not destroyed his written, but unread +address and fictitious name. + +Hubert Lisle, too, had volunteered, but it was to his country, and he +was contending bravely, steadfastly, in the Northern ranks. Only good +reports came back to Kennons of Ellice's brave son. This was galling to +Rusha's pride; but it refuted silently her assertion that courage flowed +not in Northern blood, for Hubert's mother had been a Northerner. + +This young man, at the firing of Sumter, had passed his twenty-first +year. He had graduated with honor from school and college, and was on +the eve of embarking for Paris, where he was to pursue his medical +studies. The call of his country stayed his uplifted foot, and placed in +his not unwilling hand weapons of metal other than implements of +dissection. + +For three years Hubert was on active duty, when he became one of the +unlucky prisoners at Salisbury. At the end of three months he was +amongst the exchanged, and emerged from that infamous place such a +walking skeleton as might have scared a ghost. Being unable to reënter +the service, after several weeks recruiting in the hospital, he was +permitted to visit Kennons. + +That was a harder place for him than Salisbury. If it were not so trite, +we would say he had fallen from Scylla upon Charybdis; or, if it were +not vulgar, we might assert him to have fallen from the frying-pan into +the fire; we will simply say, that not finding his father's wife at all +agreeable, and having a remote suspicion that she might be tempted to +put something that was not pure Java into his coffee, he left, after a +few days, for the more congenial city where his college days had been +spent. + +The civil war, then, had come to a close. Men had fought bravely on +either side. It is idle to assert that all the courage and gallantry was +with one or with the other. Both Northerner and Southerner fought like +men. Right conquered, and the South yielded gracefully enough. The +humiliation of her proud spirit was sufficient for her to bear; taunts +and sneers should have been spared her. + +Mr. Fuller was still overseer at Kennons, and had managed with Mr. Lisle +to retain a majority of the field-hands at a fair salary. + +Of the house-servants, Amy and Chloe, being well advanced in years, +offered to remain for the sake of their master. He, knowing what it must +have cost them to make this resolve, and touched by their devotion, +counselled them to leave at least the house. On the farthest corner of +his plantation he would give them a few acres, build them a cabin, +where, with their youngest children, they could live comfortably. This +proposal they received with joy; they would be near the dear master, +while removed from the authority of the mistress. + +As to Rusha's servants, at the first announcement of freedom, every one +went out from her presence forever, so soon as they could gather their +wretched wardrobes into shape for departure. The most of them wore their +all away, and that was sufficiently scanty. All went, we say. No, Kizzie +remained. She was now a poor old woman of seventy. While watching the +others depart, she sat down upon a rickety bench, folded her bony +fingers over her knees, and cried silently. She was thinking. It would +be hard either way, to go out among strangers, or to stay where her life +had been so sorry and hopeless. She believed, on the whole, she would +stay. + +She did not like to leave her little cabin, where she had suffered so +much, and where, after all, she had had her crumbs of comfort. How could +she sleep out of her own bed, whose pillows were now ever adorned with +her own article of luxury--ruffled pillow-slips? How could she leave +that household god which stood day and night by her bedside, the cradle +that had rocked her children? Should she find elsewhere a patch of +ground for her darling pinks? + +Besides, had there not been deep in her heart a hope that some time one +of her boys--Joe, perhaps--might be led to seek his mother? How should +he find her if she went out none knowing whither? Yes, she would stay. + +Miss Rusha was glad of her resolution. She had hired a stranger for +cook, and Kizzie, though now somewhat decrepit, could do her many a +service. But it was not in this woman's nature to acknowledge a +kindness; she acted and spoke as if she were doing this old servant a +great favor by allowing her to remain. + +It was but a few days ere Mrs. Lisle, who was now more than ever hasty +in temper, raised her hand against Kizzie. Kizzie's eyes flashed, and +she answered her mistress with angry words. This was more than Mrs. +Lisle could bear, and she struck her a blow. + +"A free woman to be whipped like a slave," thought Kizzie; "that time +has gone by;" and she threatened to leave. + +"Go whenever you please," said the lady. + +But Kizzie could not go, and did not. She had borne so much, she might +endure a little more. + +Her pertinacity in staying induced Mrs. Lisle to throw off all +restraint. She believed nothing would force her to leave, and fell back +to her former mode of treatment of this pitiable woman. There came a +limit, however, to Kizzie's endurance. She packed up her few goods, +firmly resolved to see her mistress' face no more. She would stay a few +days at Amy's and Chloe's, and then go farther. She would have taken up +her abode altogether with them, as Mr. Lisle advised, only that she and +those amiable women had not been the best of friends. Kizzie had been +too solitary and brooding to form a pleasant companion. At the last +moment she might again have hesitated had she not already sent her +parcels ahead of her by a chance black man. + +Having cast a last lingering look about her cabin, she leaned over her +cradle, which she wet with her tears. Then going into the sunlight, she +bent down over her patch of pinks, which were now in fullest fragrance. +She had fallen on her knees, bowing over, and burying her wrinkled face +in the rich mass of bloom and beauty. + +Kizzie's heart had not broken over the cradle, nor was it doomed to +break over her beloved blossoms. A man's step startled her. Raising her +head, a tall, dignified military officer of color met her view. He +approached her close, looking steadily at her with those smiling, +pleasant eyes which Kizzie had never forgotten, could never forget, were +they in her Joe of fourteen, or in this fine looking officer. Her heart +said--"It is my Joe; my baby Joe," but her lips could not syllable a +word. + +"Mother," said the trembling, glad voice, though so deep and heavy, "you +still love your pinks, mother, do you still love your Joe?" + +Ah, what a meeting was that! The wonder is that Kizzie survived it. +Sorrow, grief, had not killed, neither did joy. + +When Joe told his mother he had come for her to accompany him North, she +proposed taking her pinks, earth and all. + +"O no mother, I have a house and garden of my own; you shall have a +place for your pinks as large as you wish." + +The old woman looked up at him questioningly. Before she could speak he +said: + +"I see what you wish to know, yes, I am married." "And have a baby Joe" +too, he would have added, only that he had resolved his mother should be +taken by surprise in the visible knowledge of her grandchild. + +It was not now difficult for Kizzie to leave her old home; and as she +journeyed northward astonished by new scenes, she learned from Joe his +history since their painful separation. + +He had grieved so for his mother that his new master thought it best to +part with him in a neighboring State. He had fallen into good hands; he +had learned to read and write. At the breaking out of the war he had +deserted his master and escaped North. Here he had enlisted as a +soldier, and after much active service had been raised to rank of +Lieutenant in his company. He had found time to marry a runaway +slave-girl, whom he sent North. He and she were both prudent and +industrious, and when the war was over had means to purchase them a +comfortable home. He had always been determined to revisit his mother. +The visit had been doubly pleasant, since he had fought for her liberty +and his own. + +When Kizzie arrived at her son's home, and was introduced to his wife +and the unsuspected baby, she was again speechless. But her silent +prayer was that her years might be lengthened out to the number of +Methuseleh's, in order long to enjoy this unaccustomed happiness. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + +THE ST. LEGERS. + + +John Temple had been a three month's volunteer at the commencement of +the war. But his business so much suffered, and his absence so +distracted his wife, that he considered it his duty, after his term of +service had expired, to remain at home. John Temple, for the son of an +Irishman, was a man of a great deal of equanimity. He could face a body +of soldiers without flinching, and he could meet daily the frivolousness +and folly, the bagatelles and boutades of his pretty wife without losing +patience. That he could do the one was not strange or uncommon; but to +do the other without seeking the satisfaction of slamming a door, +kicking a footstool across the floor, or boxing the children's ears, was +truly remarkable. + +It was well for Juliet that she had married a man whose disposition and +temperament was so the reverse of her own. She was one of those who +delight in fancying her own life to be filled with more trials and +troubles than any other person's can be. And why? She had a beautiful +home, rich and fashionable in its appointments, plenty of servants at +her command, horses, carriage and driver at her disposal, a niece of +remarkable loveliness and beauty, a son and daughter somewhat spoiled, +who inherited fortunately their mother's beauty and their father's good +sense; a kind and indulgent husband--what more could she wish? + +Ah, Juliet Temple! the hand of sorrow had never touched thee. The sacred +form of grief had passed thee by. Death had flitted around thee, taking +others, leaving thee and thine. Father and mother, brother and sisters, +husband and children all remained to thee! Yet did'st thou never raise +thy heart in thanksgiving unto God, but suffered it to be depressed and +fretted at the nameless trifles that came vexingly. + +Few persons, like Juliet, live to the age of thirty-five without having +suffered losses and afflictions. Juliet never paused to consider this. +She never reflected, even at a funeral, that thus far she had been +spared, but that her turn must come. When she gazed upon poverty and +distress no thought that such might have been, or might still be hers, +crossed her mind. She was more unhappy than the cripple or the beggar +that passed her by. + +To such souls come awakenings, soon or late; sometimes gentle, sometimes +startling as an earthquake. + +Captain St. Leger, who had seldom visited home of late years, on a +recent return had taken with him his invalid wife to China. He had +opened business relations at a principal port, which had gradually +become his more usual stopping place and home. Mrs. St. Leger had +improved somewhat on the voyage; and the first letter received from her +on her arrival was favorable. Little then were the daughters prepared +for the succeeding letter which contained intelligence of her death. + +The long illness of their mother had prepared the elder daughters in a +measure for the event. Juliet had not anticipated such a thing. She had +thought only of seeing her mother return from her lengthy voyage +recruited in health and spirits, with her old taste and ability revived +for society and amusements. She shut herself up in a room and grieved +inordinately. Had her own and father's household lay dead before her, +she could not have assumed a wilder sorrow. In vain her husband soothed +and reasoned. Her mother had been a great sufferer; she could not expect +but that she must some time die; she was beyond the reach of pain; for +her the agony of death was over. All to no purpose. She would have no +comfort in husband, children, or sisters; her mother was dead, and she +would not be comforted. + +John Temple thought it would do her good to see Dr. Browne; he +accordingly sent for him, and without her knowledge. + +Dr. Browne called; but to see him Juliet persistently refused. The real +reason was because she was in wretched _deshabille_, her face was +swollen with weeping, and it would be such a weary work to do her hair. +No; her vanity was yet stronger than her grief, and she would not be +seen by Dr. Browne. + +Two months passed, and Juliet had recovered her usual composure, if +composure can be used in connection with so unrestful a creature. + +And now came a letter from the hand of a stranger, bearing news of the +sudden death by apoplexy of Captain St. Leger. + +This was indeed unexpected, and created in the family a much greater +sensation than had the death of the mother. + +The Van Rensaleers and the Langs began to inquire about the condition of +the property. Without consulting Mr. Temple, the husbands of Leonora and +Estelle sailed at once for China. + +Juliet's anxiety about her share of the estate somewhat modified her +grief in this instance. She had but slightly known her father; he had +been home but seldom, and for brief visits. He was an austere man, very +fine-looking, but silent and undemonstrative. She should not miss him so +much, still his death was such a shock--as she was fond of repeating to +her friends; she should never recover from the effects of two such +terrific shocks. + +So selfish in her grief was Juliet, nobody's sorrow had ever been like +unto her own. Whereas, had she only stopped to consider, had she been a +Christian instead of a heathen, a woman instead of a child, she would +have borne silently this affliction as a necessary dispensation of +Providence; she would have bowed her heart humbly before God, kissing +the hand that had chastened her, thankful that those nearer and dearer +had been left unto her. + +The two elder brothers-in-law in due time returned from their mission +with the doleful intelligence that the late Captain St. Leger had died +insolvent, so far as his foreign wealth was concerned. They swore in +open court, for Mr. Temple summoned them to appear and obliged them to +take oath, that they received not sufficient from the assets to defray +the expenses of their voyage. + +Of this Juliet was disposed to believe not a word. Her brothers-in-law +had ever been ill-disposed toward her because she married for love, and +looked down on Temple because he had industriously labored for his +wealth instead of having received it, like themselves, from dishonest or +thrifty grandfathers. She believed they had connived together to enrich +themselves at her expense. + +Here, then, was another ground for anxiety. She begged Mr. Temple to +institute legal proceedings, and have the matter thoroughly sifted. Mr. +Temple liked no man to believe he was to be tamely cheated, and was at +first disposed to accede to Juliet's suggestion. Upon farther +reflection, however, he thought it wiser to let the matter drop. Aside +from anxiety, the expenses would be great. His adversaries had taken +time by the forelock, and had taken care doubtless to cover up their +tracks. + +He was now independent; his business needed all his attention; he would +not risk the certain for the uncertain. He would look out for his share +yet unappropriated in the city, though Captain St. Leger, at his last +visit home, had given deed to Juliet of the house she since her marriage +had occupied. + +But the settlement of the St. Leger estate does not materially concern +us. It had the effect, however, of completely alienating Juliet from her +sisters. + +Leonora was still childless, though she had so far changed her +resolution as to have received two children into her house. She could +scarcely have done otherwise. It had been announced by letter from +Philip that a cargo of eleven children from his mission were about to +sail, and would reach New York at about a given time. Three of these +children were his, and he hoped his sisters would find places for them +in their families, and interest themselves in seeking good homes for the +remaining others. + +Philip wrote that expediency alone could have induced them to part with +the dear children. Their hearts were torn asunder, etc., etc. The +touching letter was read from the preacher's desk. There was not a dry +eye in the house, nor a heart that did not long to clasp the foreign +missionary waifs. The trouble was not in getting homes in sufficient +number for the children--there were not enough children for the homes +offered. It would be such a blessed privilege to have a missionary's +child in the house. The various Judson children that were scattered here +and there were perpetual curiosities. Their very presence was enough to +sanctify, dignify, and make illustrious any house wherein they might +dwell. + +There never occurred to Philip when he wrote, to the city preacher when +he read, nor to the congregation who listened to the pathetic story of +the "hearts torn asunder," an idea as to the incompatibility of +missionary life with raising a family of children; nor that each and +every missionary father had better have given his heart a decided wrench +in the beginning, by abstaining from marriage, than have been a victim +to perpetual domestic anxiety and have suffered such ever-recurring +wounds. + +At first Leonora had taken Philip's three children, although a +childless, wealthy couple had offered to adopt the eldest, a boy of nine +years. He was handsomer and finer looking than his two little sisters, +who were both quiet and pretty. Leonora thought she should have +something to be proud of in the boy, who was a St. Leger thoroughly, and +might readily enough be mistaken as her own son. + +She was not long, however, in discovering that she had taken more upon +herself than she could bear. This handsome nephew was the exact +counterpart of what his father had been at similar early age. Leonora +remembered well that Philip had been an imp of mischief, and that she +had suffered torments on his account. This young Marius--named for Mary +Selby in full--like his father before him, seemed to think his young +sisters made for no earthly purpose but for his amusement. If they were +out of his presence he was wretched; when with them he left them no +peace; he would fling at them paper darts, almost strangle them with an +impromptu lasso, demolish their playhouse, decapitate their dolls, and +do all the mischief his really inventive genius could suggest. + +Leonora knew how worse than vain would be all reasoning with such a +subject. The example of her brother was all she needed. She took him in +her carriage, and set him down, with his baggage, at the door of the +wealthy couple who had been so anxious to gain possession of him. She +was not surprised, two weeks later, to learn that he had been +transferred to the family of the Presbyterian clergyman, nor shortly +after to be informed that a collection had been taken up among the +wealthy members of the church for his education at a country school; to +this she was invited to contribute, which she did liberally. + +Captain St. Leger had given all his city property to his daughters, +leaving his only son unprovided for. + +As to Estelle, Mrs. Lang, she rejoices in five daughters, which, added +to her four sons, makes her family equal in number, if not in degree, to +that of Queen Victoria's. She has had a wing added to her already +extensive mansion, wherein she has had her children installed, with +their nurses at command, one being an aged lady, trusty and faithful. +Unlike Juliet, Estelle became wise enough to give over fretting and +borrowing trouble. She goes much into society, though less devoted to it +than her elder sister, but looks considerably to her household affairs, +and on the whole makes a tolerable wife and mother. She would be +religious perhaps if she knew how to be. But this she has never learned +at St. Mark's Church, and she knows not where else to go. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + +ST. MARK'S OR ST. PATRICK'S? + + +A few months later, and Juliet Temple, with her niece and children, +returned from St. Mark's, whither they had been for morning service. + +"I declare this is the last time I shall go out to church while this hot +weather continues," exclaimed Juliet, throwing herself upon the parlor +lounge, not having sufficient strength to mount the stairs. "I was a +dunce for going to-day," she continued, having panted awhile for breath, +and fanning herself with a feather fan; "there were but few out; almost +none at all of the fashionables. Let me see: there was Dr. Elfelt's pew +vacant, the Shreves' vacant, the Dunns', and the Quackenboss'; not one +of the Herricks, Messengers, nor Livingstons there; you'll not catch me +there again with only such a common crowd; it is high time Dr. Browne +shut up for the summer, though somebody said he wasn't going to shut up +this summer, there has been such a hue and cry in the papers about this +shutting up of churches; but he might as well, I can warn him, or he +will preach to empty pews; it beats all, and to-day was communion day, +too; I should have thought more would have turned out; but, I declare, +I thought I should smother when I went up to the rails; and, to cap all, +that old Mrs. Godfrey, who weighs at least three hundred, came and knelt +close by me, and just completely crushed all one side of my flounces; I +was provoked and indignant; this, added to the intense heat, was almost +insupportable; but here I am again, thank God. O, Althea, you look so +cool and comfortable; won't you come, please, and fan me a minute--untie +my hat, and take away my gloves and scarf, they are like so many +fire-coals. It is too bad to make a servant of you, dear, but that is +just the way, the girls stay so long at their Mass, as they call it; I +wouldn't have Catholic girls just for this very reason, that they insist +always upon going to Mass, only that I really can trust a good Catholic +girl better than anyone else. If a girl calls herself Catholic, but is +not particular about her religious duties, I am on the watch for her; +but a girl that insists upon going through thick and thin, heat and +cold, such a girl I trust in spite of me. Now, Johnny, bring me a glass +of ice-water, dear. And daughter, if you will just step up to my room +and bring my salts, you will be a darling. Dear me! shall I ever get +cool again? If you will just bring me that sofa pillow, but no, it will +be too hot. I wish I had a nice pillow from my own bed, the linen slips +would be so refreshing." + +Althea started to go for one, when her aunt pleased again to change her +mind. + +"On the whole, I think now I will be able to go up stairs, and you can +unlace my tight boots, they are just killing my poor feet, and I can +get into my wrapper; yes, that will be nice." + +And Juliet started briskly for her chamber. She met her daughter at the +foot of the stairs with the tiny cut-glass bottle. + +"You can bring it back; I have concluded to go up myself; and, Johnny, +that is right, my son, bring the waiter up stairs, where, if I am not +completely exhausted first, I will try to get comfortable." + +The stream of Juliet's talk ceased not to flow, while her niece, son, +and daughter flew hither and thither, as was dictated by her caprice. + +At length, in her snowy wrapper, she half reclined gracefully upon an +equally snowy lounge, which she had ordered drawn to the darkest corner +of the room. + +"Now, Johnny and Flora dear, you can go anywhere you please, until the +girls come and lunch is served. Althea will stay and fan me, and perhaps +I can sleep," said this selfish woman, languidly closing her eyes. + +She had done talking enough for any one member of a sociable; and +Althea, commendably preserving her patience, devoutly hoped the +poppy-god, of which she had lately been reading in her Virgil, would +shower well the eyelids of her Aunt. Vain hope! The uneasy tongue again +commenced: + +"I wonder how your uncle endures it! Every week-day at his counting +house--every Sunday twice at Mass, and then again at Vespers. It is all +of six months now since this very pious fit came over him. And strange +to say, I believe I brought it about myself. I never had given up the +notion of his coming around to be with me a High Churchman. He always +_was_ the most honest soul--the offer of thrones and kingdoms could +never induce him to tell a lie--but as to what he called his religious +duties, he had become very careless; I could easily coax him to stay +from Mass when I did not feel like dressing for St. Mark's, but about +six months ago, I think it was, I undertook to convert him to my way of +thinking, and to make him see how vain and wicked these Romish practices +were, when he astonished me by his earnest defence of them, and ever +since he is a perfect enthusiast; wouldn't stay from Mass if the house +was on fire, and if you would believe it, is actually insisting that the +children shall go with him whenever they don't go with me; next thing +will be to take them with him anyhow, and the idea of having Johnny and +Flora brought up to believe that it is a mortal sin to be absent from +Mass, even when the day is scalding hot, or piping cold! That is +downright tyranny. I would never endure it! It is well I was never +brought up a Catholic; they'd find a rebel in me, sure. All the priests, +and Bishops, and the Pope, and a hundred like him, couldn't oblige me to +go to church, if I was not a mind. And Althea, only think of it, your +uncle, good as he is, every month now goes on his knees to Father Duffy +and confesses his sins! That is too much. Your uncle, Althea, if I do +say it, who am his wife, is the best man in the world--the very best, +and the idea! Why, I believe it is the other way, and this priest, Mr. +Duffy, had better go on _his_ knees to my husband--he would have more to +say, I'll wager. John Temple is sensible upon everything else, but upon +the matter of his religion he has become childish and absurd. I believe +he would give me up and the children too, dearly as he loves them, +rather than his religion. There he is at last," she exclaimed eagerly, +as the hall door opened below, and a man's foot was heard ascending the +stairs. + +"O John! I am so glad you have come. You have almost been the death of +me though, you naughty man." + +"How so, Juliet?" + +"Why, did you not tell me when I objected to going to St. Mark's that if +I did not go and take the children you should take them with you?" + +"I did." + +"Well, of course, rather than to have them go to that Irish Church, I +made a martyr of myself and went with them to St. Mark's, but it is for +the last time this summer, I can promise you. Why, I have almost died +with the heat." + +"It is a very warm day, unusually warm for the season," was the only +response. + +"And is that _all_, John, that you have to say? You are _not_ going to +take the children hereafter to church with you, when it is impossible +for me to go with them to St. Mark's?" + +"That is what I told you, Juliet. I have thoroughly made up my mind, +and--" + +"O, don't tell me you have made up your mind," cried the lady +hysterically, who knew from a twelve years' experience that John +Temple's made-up mind was like an adamantine wall to all her feeble +missiles. + +"Juliet," he replied firmly, "I will no longer see our children growing +up without religious training. And this very day I have formed a new +resolution. Johnny and Flora are to go with me every morning to early +Mass. This is a subject which must be no longer neglected;" and here Mr. +Temple, having loosened his necktie, and donned dressing-gown and +slippers, took up the fan that Althea had dropped upon his entrance, and +seated himself by his wife. + +Juliet, as usual, betook herself to tears. But tears did not always +drown her tongue; certainly not upon this occasion. + +"I don't see how it is possible for a man, generally so kind and good, +to make himself so obstinate and disagreeable. You don't find me so +obstinate; do I not often yield to you, John Temple, I would like to +know?" + +"You look upon but one side, Juliet; we are man and wife; our religions +are different. I speak not of yours, I know only my own, and this, my +own religion, binds me to bring up my children in the fear and love of +God. You may, for some reasons, be attached to your religious service, +but the rules of your Church have no binding force upon you. For you it +is no sin to allow your children to attend Mass. Your Church claims to +be a branch of ours, admits ours to be the true Church of Christ, from +which it sprang. In attending Mass with me, your children are still +within the fold of the Church. With me it is different. I believe in +but one Church. All others so-called, however well-intentioned, have not +the banner of Christ, not unto them were given the promises of our +Divine Lord. For me it is a mortal sin to allow my children any longer +to remain in their present state. Johnny should have been already well +instructed, and ready for First Communion and Confirmation." + +"O, John! when you know I am so dreadfully opposed to it, how can you +insist upon having the dear children brought up in such a way. It will +ruin their prospects for life. Likely as not Johnny would become a cruel +priest, and our sweet little Flora would be dragged into a convent." + +"Don't be a fool, Juliet," said Mr. Temple, losing his patience, "who +talks about dragging people into convents? Not Catholics. Have you not +confidence in me, and will you not believe when I assure you I could not +ask a higher, nobler place for our children than that you so deprecate? +Thus far have I yielded to you in this matter. But, Juliet, who has made +me father and master in this house? Unto God shall I have to render my +account; and though I would spare your feelings, I must still be true to +my conscience." + +"As far as the religion itself goes, I don't care so much," responded +Juliet, attempting to dry her eyes with her handkerchief, already +saturated, "but what grieves me to the heart, what I cannot bear nor +tolerate is this association with the low and vulgar," the one idea +still uppermost in the weak woman's mind. + +"Juliet, are you never to have thoughts higher than those that pertain +to society and fashion? Do you never think the time is surely coming +when you must give up all these things to which you are attached, when +death must come to you, and a new life, and have you no care as to what +that life shall be?" + +The lady shivered and covered up her eyes. + +"Why do you talk thus to me? Do you not know that I have a perfect +horror of such things? O, John, the very thought of dying almost +distracts me. _Must_ we all die? How I wish we could live forever, and +never grow old! When we get very old, John, then, if I should be taken +sick, I want you to hold me strong by the hand that death may not take +me." + +"But, Juliet, if you should be taken sick before you are old?" + +"I have no fear, John, while you are with me, even though I be sick. Do +you not know, have you not learned, that I fear nothing when with you, +and have a good hold of your hand? In a thunder-shower I am so timid +without you, I think every bolt is to strike me; if you are near, but +you must be close, I have no fear. It seems nothing can harm me if you +are by. So, John, while I have you, I have no fear of death." + +Mr. Temple had dropped the fan, and Juliet's two little hands were +nestled in his strong, broad palms. He looked with tenderness into the +face upturned so trustfully to his. + +"But if I should die, Juliet, and you should not have me?" + +Juliet gave a piercing scream and threw herself into her husband's arms. +Was it for the first time such a thought had ever been presented to her +mind? Life without her husband! She could not conceive of it. It seemed +as if he had always been with her; as though he had become so much a +part of herself that she could not live without him. For, though she +wearied and annoyed him, teased, opposed, and vexed him, she loved him +beyond all things, even her children. Beneath all her vanity, folly, and +thoughtlessness throbbed one passion deepest of all, love for her +husband. + +"My poor little wife," said John Temple, when he could again speak, "I +am frail and human, but there is One mighty and eternal. I am weak and +erring, but there is One strong and infallible. Put your trust in One +worthier than I; lay your hand in His who shall lead you by the still +waters of peace; in His which shall never fail you, neither in life, +death, nor eternity." + + + + +CHAPTER XIX. + +"IN SUCH AN HOUR AS YE THINK NOT." + + +During the following week Juliet Temple was more serious than usual. She +often found herself wondering why her husband had spoken to her in such +mournful words. They haunted her the more she attempted to drive them +away; she could not even reflect with indignation upon his avowed +purpose as regarded the children. His solemn tones and manner had taken +the sting from his unwelcome resolutions. + +Once she referred to the subject: + +"Your sermon of last Sunday has sunk deep in my heart. It is the only +sermon that has ever done me any good--or harm," she added. + +"I did not intend to trouble you; but you know I would like to see you +more thoughtful." + +Had John Temple taken this course long ago with his wife, she would have +become perhaps a wiser, better woman. But he loved peace and quiet; and +he probably thought also that no serious words from him could make +impression upon her preoccupied, impervious mind. + +John Temple was true to his word. For several mornings his children +were kneeling by his side at Mass, ere their mother had awakened from +her slumbers. He himself heard their daily lessons in Catechism. + +When Saturday came around Juliet began to think about the children going +to St. Patrick's next day. She was so surprised at herself for having +acquiesced so readily. True, she knew it was no use to combat her +husband upon the point, but she might not have appeared to him to yield +so easily. Instead, however, of any disposition to disapprove, she began +to think how it would be were she to go herself. Pshaw! Where was all +her pride, that she should begin to think of going to church with her +Jim, Bridget, and Ann? But somehow, for the first time, she did not like +to think of her husband going without her. He had spoken so solemnly of +the possibility of his some time leaving her! Hereafter she should feel +as if he must not go out of her sight. She put away her embroidery for +her crochet. In turn, her crochet was tedious, and dropping it, she took +up a book which her husband had been reading at leisure moments the last +day or two. + +The book she had never before observed. It was "The Following of +Christ." She opened where was his mark; and this mark was, for this +time, a tiny rose she had handed him that very morning. She pressed to +her lips the rose, which was yet fragrant, though faded. She commenced +to sing carelessly: + + "Ye may break, ye may ruin the vase if ye will, + But the scent of the roses will hang round it still," + +when the heading of the Chapter, which the rose had marked, caught her +eye, "Of the thoughts of death." + +"A very little while and all will be over with thee here. See to it, how +it stands with thee in the next life. Man to-day is, and to-morrow he is +seen no more. If thou art not prepared to-day, how wilt thou be +to-morrow? + +"To-morrow is an uncertain day, and how knowest thou if thou shalt have +to-morrow?" + +"No wonder his mind is sober and solemn, with such reading as this," +mused Juliet, but she continued. + +Fire bells commenced to ring. Was this so uncommon an occurrence as to +cause Juliet to drop her book and press her hand to her heart? + +"What does it mean? I am so fearfully nervous. It is not our house that +is on fire." + +She walked to a window; ah, the fire was near, but a few squares +distant; the slight wind, however, would bear it in an opposite +direction. There was no occasion for fear. Juliet took up her book +again, and read a few pages. She was reading these passages a second +time, and with something like a thrill of awe, for they seemed to be +spoken to herself: + +"Be therefore always in readiness, and so live that death may never find +thee unprepared. + +"Many die suddenly and unprovidedly; for the Son of Man will come at the +hour when He is not looked for. + +"When that last hour shall have come, then thou wilt begin to think far +otherwise of all thy past life; and great will be thy grief that thou +hast been so neglectful and remiss." + +The door-bell rang violently. Juliet made an effort to rise from her +chair, but sank back weak as an infant. Her face turned deadly pale, and +she clenched the closed book in her pallid hands. + +There was a confused sound in the room below; the tread of men and +subdued voices. Suddenly, above these, she caught a groan. This broke +the spell; she flew rather than walked to the small parlor so strangely +occupied. + +A knot of men separated slightly as she drew near. O God of Heaven, was +that her husband? John Temple, who went out a few hours ago brave and +strong, in the full vigor of beautiful manhood, blighted, disfigured, +burned in the fiery furnace? + +"My child, my child," had a frantic woman screamed as she was borne down +a ladder in the powerful arms of a fireman. + +"My child," she still cried from the ground, her eyes upraised to the +window of flame, her hands clasped in pleading agony. Eager eyes looked +upward, but even brave hearts hesitated to rush into the sea of flame. + +It was madness, but John Temple ventured. They would have held him back, +but in that supreme moment of supernatural exaltation of courage he was +strong as well as bold. As he would others should do for him so would he +do for them. It was the thought of his wife and children that nerved him +to such heroic, desperate effort, and alas, so unavailing! + +Streams of water had darkened the fiery mass, and hope began to whisper +to the eager crowd. + +Yes, John Temple stepped out upon the slippery, blackened ladder, +grasping the inanimate form of a little child. Loud cheers rent the air. +But they pierced the hearts of those who bent over the senseless forms +of the deliverer and the child. Most of their clothing, their hair, and +eyebrows were burned, they were fearfully scarred, and worse than all +they had breathed the flames! Physicians were on the ground, prompt +assistance was rendered, and John Temple again drew breath. With the +child there was a moan, a gasp, and all was over. + +This was the result of a kerosene explosion. So instant had been the +ignition of everything combustible that nearly the whole interior was in +flames before assistance could arrive. Stout engines played but upon +useless debris, and saved only unsightly walls. + +Some friend of John Temple had run for the priest, and by the time he +was laid in his own house Father Duffy too had arrived. The sufferer had +become sensible, but could not speak. He was evidently in fearful agony. + +Three physicians looked at each other and shook their heads. They had +the wife to care for now, who, with piercing shrieks, fell insensible at +their feet. + +"Will you leave me alone with him a moment," said the priest, and the +others withdrew, bearing away the stricken woman. + +It was but for a few moments indeed. The dying man could only make +signals in answer to questions, and received the _Viaticum_ with eyes +raised in thankfulness. The physicians had not been able to get him to +swallow, but this blessed bread of life, this comforter by the way, +this solace and support through the dark valley, nature nor suffering +did refuse. It was pitiful to see him attempt to fold in reverence his +inflamed and swollen hands, and to make, as his last expiring effort, +the beloved sign of our holy religion. + +To John Temple death had come suddenly indeed, but not unprovidedly. He +had been moved, no doubt by heavenly inspiration, to make a general +confession only the Sunday previously. And Father Duffy had reason to +believe it had been made with that care, diligence, and fullness as if +he had known it to have been his last. We have seen what an impression +had been made upon his mind in his interview with his wife. + +Upon recovering consciousness, Juliet demanded to be admitted to her +husband. Disguises and delays she would not brook, and they led her +back. Her children were now there, and Althea, and further back the +servants. These latter were upon their knees, with the priest, saying +prayers for the dead. + +Let us here draw a veil. We have been disgusted with Juliet, out of all +patience with her levity and unwomanliness, but we sympathize in her +unutterable grief. Hard must be the heart unmoved by those wildest +moans, those saddest plaints. + +"Do not weep," said Dr. Browne to her after the funeral, "it is vain, +worse than vain." + +"Only tears are left me," she half-uttered. + +"Your children!" + +"They only speak to me of him." + +"But yourself; for your own sake do not thus yield to immoderate +grief." + +"I tell you, Dr. Browne, my heart shall dash itself against this sorrow +till it break--break!" she exclaimed wildly. + +"But this is not Christian submission." + +"I am not a Christian, Dr. Browne; you cannot expect from me submission. +Do you expect grapes from thorns?" + +"Not a Christian, Mrs. Temple?" + +"You know I am not a Christian, Dr. Browne! I have never known but one +Christian in my life, and that was John Temple." + +Dr. Browne felt somewhat scandalized. A member of his church to say +boldly she had never known but one Christian, and that Christian a Roman +Catholic; was it not incomprehensible? But then Mrs. Temple was not now +in her usual mind. Due allowance must be made, and he would seek a more +favorable opportunity for renewing the subject. He arose to leave. + +"What shall I do, Dr. Browne? I cannot bear day nor night; life is a +torture; I cannot bear life, nor can I endure to think of death. O, help +me, Dr. Browne." + +"Only God can help you, Mrs. Temple, and I pray that His grace may be +sufficient for you." + +"But you forget that I have no God." + +"Mrs. Temple, you are beside yourself. No God?" + +"No! He is afar off, or I am shut out from Him. I have never known Him. +I cannot pray to Him." + +"When you shall be more collected I will call again. Meantime, you will +find much comfort in our Book of Common Prayer. Have recourse to it and +to the throne of grace." + +Juliet abandoned herself as much to remorse as to grief. + +She had had the best of husbands; she had been to him the worst of +wives. As in a mirror, she saw all her past life. She remembered how +fretful and fault-finding she had been; how difficult to please, how +unlovely she had made herself. If John could come back, only just long +enough for her to tell him how very, very sorry she was, how much she +loved and respected him, how he had always done everything right, and +she had been ever in the wrong; but he could not come even for that. She +collected around her the various articles he had used; among others, his +rosary, crucifix and prayer-book. How careful he had been to keep them +hidden away, where they might not offend her eye, or provoke her +ridicule and sneer. She read every day, in the "Following of Christ," +the chapter John had last read, which the faded rose still marked. + +In this was a kind of comfort, but there was peace nor rest in aught +else. She walked the floor distractedly, and wrung her hands and tore +her garments. She shut herself up in the darkness, and stretched forth +her hands and prayed the spirit of John to come back to her in pity. She +would not admit her sisters; her children she allowed to grieve alone. + +Suddenly, came back to her the memory of a look of pity and compassion, +which she had forgotten. When she had returned, on that memorable day, +to her husband, who had just breathed his last, as she raised her eyes, +scarcely daring to let them fall upon the dear face, she encountered the +gaze of Father Duffy. He had, unconsciously, looked upon this bereaved +woman, whom he knew to be without the fold, therefore, without suitable +consolation for this trying moment, as our dear Lord may be supposed to +have looked upon Mary and Martha, when they informed Him that Lazarus, +their brother, was dead. + +The remembrance of this compassionate look softened Juliet's heart +toward the priest. For the first time in her life, she began to think he +might be something beside an impersonation of evil. To John he had been +a father and a friend; might not she have confidence in one he had so +loved and trusted? + +She began to wish he would call. She wondered he did not, if but to see +after the children. He must be aware of John's recent action in regard +to them, perhaps may have counselled the same. The more she thought of +this, the stronger, by degrees, became her desire to see and consult +him. + +Juliet was what might be termed a "person of one idea." Not that her +ideas never changed--she was very versatile; but she was animated wholly +by one idea at a time, to the exclusion of all others. Two weeks ago, +the Catholic Irish priest was the last person she would have thought of +with desire to see. Now, of all people in the world, it was from Father +Duffy she would seek counsel. + +She rang her bell, and when Ann appeared, thus addressed her: + +"You may do my hair, Ann; I have changed my mind; I thought I would +never have it touched again by comb or brush, but I will. You need not +be particular; only get the tangles out and let it hang; you can find a +black ribbon somewhere. I don't care any more how I look, besides, I am +only going to see your priest, Mr. Duffy. He must be used to seeing +people in all sorts of rigs. It would be different if I were to meet Dr. +Browne. I would dress for him as for a king, once; but not now! I never +shall care again how I look; poor John cannot see me." + +Sobs and tears choked further utterance. Ann gave a quick start, when +her mistress mentioned the priest's name. She could hardly believe she +had heard aright. She was used to almost every caprice from Mrs. Temple, +but this last transcended every other. What did it portend? + +Mrs. Lang, who was about the size and height of Mrs. Temple, had kindly +taken upon herself the care of procuring her sister's mourning. Having +submitted to all the troubles and inconveniences, she had, but the day +before, sent home several dresses. She would herself have accompanied +them, had she not repeatedly been refused admittance to her sister. +Juliet's hair being finished, she ordered Ann to undo the small mountain +of mourning goods, and select the plainest garment. And, after all, it +was with much hesitation, and continued wringing of hands, and moans and +lamentations, that she allowed herself to be arrayed in these insignias +of her widowhood. She more than once gave up her purpose, only as often +to resume it. + + + + +CHAPTER XX. + +JULIET. + + +Ann, having completed her mistress' unusual and oft-resisted toilet, +received with surprise a message to convey to Father Duffy. She glanced +at Mrs. Temple, to discover if she were really in her right mind. Upon +this point she could not satisfy herself, for Juliet had buried her +flushed face in the fresh handkerchief she had just given her, and added +but the words: "go at once!" + +Father Duffy, but little past the prime of life, was in the full vigor +of energy and usefulness. A worker himself, he infused others with his +spirit; droneishness wilted under the scorching rays of his perpetual +activity, as weeds wither in the noon-day sun. He had accomplished +wonders in his parish, and many another, less efficient than himself, +might have supposed nothing more was to be done. Not so, thought Father +Duffy. Literally and figuratively hills were to be brought down, and +level places to be made smooth. + +By precept, and still more by example, he taught his people to bear +their burdens heroically, their prosperity with humility, their +adversity with pious resignation. He had little patience with +indecision, still less with querulousness and complaints. With those of +his class, he believed that one's "first fruits" should be given unto +God. One's best emotions, fullest love, highest loyalty, precious +treasure. He had no faith in the piety of him, who, living in a costly +dwelling, proposed to worship God in a habitation mean and contemptible; +nor in that of her, who, clad in a thousand-dollar shawl, would drop a +five-cent upon the plate of charity. + +He was as quick to perceive, as was his will to act, or his hand to do. +He saw at once through all sham and artifice. He could be almost said to +perceive what was passing through one's mind, so quick was his +discernment, so penetrating his thought. He might have been a Jesuit, +nor fallen a whit behind the most polished and profound of that +marvellous society of men. + +Poor Juliet! To have sent for such a man, whose one glance could dissect +her thoroughly! But, let us wait; maybe we shall have no occasion to +repeat the epithet just applied to her name. + +Juliet little understood, indeed, was incapable of comprehending the +nature of the man whom she had invoked into her presence. Otherwise, she +would never have sent for him. She had bestowed no particular thought +upon him, anyhow; but he shared involuntarily in that measure of +contempt, which she ever had cherished for Roman Catholics in general. +She was not one bit in awe of him, nor felt less hesitation in +addressing him, than she would have done in speaking to a merchant's +clerk. + +"I wish to see you, Mr. Duffy," she said, upon entering the little +parlor, where she had met him the one time previously. The memory of +that day, scarcely ten ago, came over her with such sudden distinctness, +that she sank to the floor, beside the sofa upon which she had been +about to seat herself, and groaned aloud. + +"I fear you yield too immoderately to grief," said the priest. + +"I can never mourn enough for John Temple," said the widow, +disconsolately. + +"Mr. Temple was a worthy man. We have all lost in his death; but we must +not forget that he has gained." + +"I forget everything but that I am wretched--the most wretched creature +in existence. I hate equally the light of day and the darkness of night. +I would take my own life, only that I have such a horror of death." + +If the priest felt horror at her expressions, he did not evince it; but +he said firmly: + +"It is very wrong for you, Mrs. Temple, to speak thus. God does not +afflict His children willingly, nor--" + +"I am no child of God," broke in the unhappy woman, hiding her face in +the crimson velvet of the lounge, against which she leaned, for she +still retained her position upon the floor, in utter disregard of +conventionalities. + +"Though you may not acknowledge God, He is none the less your Lord and +Master. Your will opposed to His is as smoking flax. He has seen fit +sorely to afflict you, and you are utterly powerless. But, God does +everything in wisdom. He has chastened you for your good, if you will +but make a wise improvement of this dispensation." + +"You talk as if you think I am a Christian. But, I tell you I am not, +and never was. I know nothing about God. I have never cared anything +about Him. I have lived without Him, and as though He did not exist. +But, I am left alone now. I have nobody in Heaven or on earth. I am +afraid--as if I were on water, and about to sink, or, as if the heavens +were to fall and crush me." + +"Yet God is near you. You have but to stretch forth your hand, and He +will support you. Give Him your heart, and He will be a present help in +time of trouble." + +"But, I cannot find Him! And see, you do not tell me truly; for I put +forth my hand, and it falls back wearily. I know--I do not expect to see +God as I see a person; but they tell about Faith that is as good as +sight; if I could only have that!" + +"Are you willing to make sacrifices for that faith--what would you do, +what give?" willing to test her sincerity. + +"Do! give! I would sit in sackcloth and ashes! Behold me upon the floor: +I would even sink beneath it, I would walk upon coals of fire, tread +upon thorns, seek rest upon a rack of torture! And give? O, have I not +been robbed of my all? I have nothing left to give!" and Juliet's voice +died out in a mournful wail. + +"But all this would not bring you to God, unless you yield to Him your +heart." + +"I have no heart; it is in the grave with my husband." + +"Mrs. Temple, you will never find God while you cherish this spirit of +selfish grief. Submission to His will is your first duty. Were you a +Catholic, I could instruct you. I know not how to conduct a Protestant +to God, unless I lead her in Catholic ways. Are you prepared to be so +led? Or, madam, why did you send for me?" + +Juliet hesitated. + +"I hardly know," at length, "I wished for somebody who had been dear to +John. He loved you more than all the world beside, except us, of course. +He was so satisfied with his religion; his faith was so clear and full; +he lived such a good life; and he used to say he owed so much to you. I +thought if you could teach me as you had done him, if I could become +good as he was, that I would learn of you, if you would take the +trouble, even though you were a Catholic priest." + +"You do not wish then to become a Catholic, really?" + +"No; I do not. I wish to find God; or, to have such faith in Him, that I +may believe as if I saw Him. Can you help me to that?" + +"I can," replied the priest. "God has appointed me to bring souls to +Him. He has appointed the way also, and I cannot go out of that way. I +warn you, therefore, in the beginning, that while conducting you to the +Heavenly City, I am not seeking to make of you simply a Catholic, but +the convictions of your mind and the fervor of your heart will be of +the very spirit of Catholicity. Are you still willing to persevere?" + +"I am. I have no fears of becoming a Catholic. I can judge for myself. I +can never believe in the divinity of Mary; nor in the worship of the +saints and the adoration of their relics; nor in transubstantiation and +miracles, and all those things; but you know what I want--and will you +help me for John's sake?" + +"And for your own. But you must have confidence in me. And first, you +must cease to believe that Catholics regard Mary, the Blessed Mother, as +a divine person; second, that they worship saints or their relics, and +many another fallacy under which you labor. You must be willing to read +and study, withdrawing your mind as much as possible from your +bereavement, and giving certain time to the care of your children. In +these matters you must be obedient, or I can promise no good result. Are +you still resolved?" + +"It is my last hope," thought Juliet, disheartened for a moment, and she +bowed her head. + +"You are sure you can help me," said Juliet, imploringly, as would say +one sick to the physician, in whom were placed all her hopes of life. + +"And behold I am with you even to the consummation of the world" passed +through the priest's mind, and he answered, confidently: "Very sure, +Mrs. Temple." + +The friends of Juliet marvelled greatly, when it became known to them +that she had sent for the Catholic priest, and was actually seeking to +learn the religion of her late husband. For they looked at the matter in +its true light, and smiled at her simplicity, in believing she could be +instructed in Protestantism by any "Romish priest," how good so ever he +might chance to be. Against her own inclination, but from the advice of +her new friend, she occasionally received her sisters and a few former +acquaintances. They went away commiserating her condition, as being +semi-imbecile, semi-lunatic. + +"She will get over this, go in society, and marry again," they +prophesied. They were not the first false prophets who have arisen. + +A year later, when Juliet Temple was baptized into the Catholic Church, +these same people said: + +"_They_ will get her into a convent, next, where she will awaken to a +sense of her folly." Another false prophecy, for Juliet did not enter a +convent, though she had serious thoughts of doing so. Though she became +not a Sister of Charity, in fact, she did in deed, and atoned in after +years for the frivolousness of her early life, by patient self-denials +and well-directed benevolence. + +In the matter of Juliet's conversion, Father Duffy, as in every thing +else, had done his work well. The widow of John Temple was no half-way +Christian. She had put forth her hand in the way directed, and God had +lifted her into the light. With her feet upon the rock of ages, she no +more trembled under the impression of sinking beneath slippery waters. + +She was not ashamed to be seen by her former fashionable friends +wending her way to St. Patrick's. When she knelt at the altar to receive +the bread of life, she became not "indignant" that any humble Bridget +knelt by her side; for, dearer to her the most lowly person who now had +received the waters of Baptism than any lady who rode in her carriage. +Through the priest, it was God's work and marvellous unto all eyes. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI. + +"THE SPIDER AND THE FLY." + + +Both Leonora and Estelle wrote to their distant brother of the danger of +his daughter. She was under the sole care of one who was fast becoming +bewitched with the superstitions of Catholicism. + +Startled and bewildered, Philip St. Leger wrote at once for his +daughter's removal from the house of Juliet. During the few months +remaining of her school-life, she should divide her time at the houses +of her elder aunts. After that, she should take up her abode with her +uncle, Duncan Lisle, at Kennons. This latter arrangement, which had been +always understood, seemed now to all parties doubly desirable. She would +be removed even from the city where Juliet Temple lived. For, of course, +Juliet, like all converts, would not rest until she had made proselytes +of all who should come within her influence. She had been much attached +to her niece, and that niece was known to have had great affection and +respect for her late uncle, who had been to her a father. Truly, great +danger was to be avoided, and soon as possible. Althea was removed to +her Aunt Leonora's, and forbidden to enter Juliet's house without +permission, and accompanied. + +Althea was now nearly sixteen; she had emerged from the somewhat +unpromising age, and had developed into remarkable beauty. Distinguished +as were all the St. Legers for fine personal appearance, none had ever +equalled this child of Della, given to God with that mother's expiring +breath. + +With the beauty of her father, she possessed the winning gracefulness of +her mother, with the best mental and moral qualities of both. As a +scholar, she excelled in all her classes; she had a real genius for +music, poetry, and painting. With trifling effort she could execute most +difficult pieces upon piano and harp. + +"You have the hand of a master," spake Signor Lanza proudly, to this his +favorite pupil. + +"Il improvisatrice," was she styled by her admiring associates, whom she +amused by the hour with her extemporary effusions of rhyme. + +From all, you would have taken her to be from that land + + "Where the poet's lip and painter's hand + Are most divine. Where earth and sky + Are picture both and poetry; + Of Italy--" + +A Madame de Stael would have immortalized her as another Corrinne. + +_Heu, me miserum!_ Where shall we find goose-quill cruel and grey enough +to write her down wife of Jude Thornton Rush? + +"There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of +in your philosophy." + +Have you forgotten, dear reader, that September night after Ellice's +funeral? How Duncan Lisle sat alone with Hubert, his child, before the +bright fire, while the rain pattered against the pane, and the memory of +the widowed man broke up into such a shower of reminiscences as almost, +for the moment, to drown the fire of his grief? Do you remember that +Philip St. Leger, returned from the East, came abruptly upon the scene, +telling of Della's death, and the little child left at the North? Well, +was it not natural for us to think that Hubert and Althea, children of +Della and Ellice, the "Pythias and Damon" friends, should grow up and +love each other, and marry at last, as they do in novels? + +Yes, that was our pet scheme, indulged in to the last. But we are +compelled to admit with the poet, that "best laid plans go oft astray." +We are also compelled to think half wickedly with Amy--what pity it was +Jude Rush fell down a precipice breaking his neck, thus giving his wife +liberty to capture her own good master--and what pity it was too that +Jude Thornton Rush did _not_ fall down some precipice and did _not_ +break his neck before, spider-like, he had woven his fine web, and said +softly to Della's daughter: + +"Will you walk into my parlor?" + +For, something like a spider was Thornton Rush. He was quite tall and +too slender. His body was out of proportion to his long limbs, and his +hands and feet had the remarkable faculty of protruding too far from +every garment, even those the tailor declared should be long enough +_this_ time. The "ninth part of a man" would seize the sleeve at the +wrist with both hands, give a good jerk and an emphatic _there_! But +when Thornton Rush was ordered to lift his arm naturally, the wrist +protruded like a turtle's neck. + +"He must be made of gutta percha," soliloquized the discomfited tailor, +giving him up as an incorrigible _non-fit_. + +The rather stooping shoulders and long neck supported a splendid head +for Thornton Rush. This was indeed his crowning attraction. Short silken +curls of raven black clustered around it, shading a wide white forehead +and delicately fashioned ear. He had a beautifully arched brow, heavily +pencilled, within which a glittering black eye, too deep set, gleamed +forth with unaccountable attraction. His nose was straight, small, but +full of nerve. You would never guess from that handsome, firm-set mouth +of his, where decision and resolution played about the cherry lips and +dimpled chin, that he would have proved the coward and run from duty and +from danger. No; but then Thornton Rush was made up of contradictions. + +His mental and moral, like his physical organization, was full of +angularities, discrepancies, and unharmonious combinations. + +He could be gentle as the dove, but fierce as the tiger; kind and +confiding as any child, but cruel and deceitful as Lucifer transformed. + +So opposite qualities are seldom found combined. + +The most brave men are often the most gentle; the most trustful are +frank and open-hearted. To parody Byron's eulogy on "The wondrous +three," + + Nature has formed but one such--hush! + She broke the die in moulding Thornton Rush. + +What do you say? Althea and Thornton married and not one word about the +courtship, that most interesting of all portions of a love-history! + +It was the tragedy of "the spider and the fly" enacted over again. We +would but shudder to watch that wicked, sly, patient tarantula, coaxing, +flattering, urging the poor little fly, whose bright wings are singed +with his hot breath, and whose wonderful eyes are held fast by the +fascination of his scintillant, unrelenting gaze. + +It is to be hoped, dear reader, that you are not of that kind who love +to gloat over horrors. If you are, you must turn to some modern journal +of civilization which is able to satisfy you completely. But Althea and +Thornton are not married yet, they are only going to be. + +After the lapse of a quarter of a century Duncan Lisle, for the second +time, attended commencement exercises at Troy Female Seminary. +Twenty-five years is but a dot upon Time's voluminous scroll, yet in +that brief space has been crowded infinite change. Madame X---- having +retired from the school of education and from the stage of life, has +been succeeded first by Madame Y----, and again by Mademoiselle de +V----. More than half the young ladies who had graduated with Della and +Ellice, who had looked like angels in simple white and blue, had lain +down the burthens of life, and were sleeping peacefully here and there. + +Duncan Lisle had not, for four years, seen his niece, and was not +prepared for such startling developments of mind and person. He was +proud to behold her queen of the school; queen, both in beauty and +mental accomplishments. He too might be forgiven for one daring thought +that soared down to matchmaking. It was not very strange that, +remembering his earliest wife and only sister, and thinking of his one +beloved child, the thought should cross him of the beauty and fitness of +a union between Hubert and Althea. "I will send Althea's picture across +the ocean to Hubert; I will write him to return home immediately," was +the conclusion of this good father. All parents have such pet schemes, +to greater or less extent. + +The health of the master of Kennons had been for some time delicate. His +journey North, undertaken partially for his own benefit as well as to +accompany his niece to his home, proved rather injurious than otherwise. +The excessively hot weather prevailing rendered the trip anything but +agreeable, and he returned to Kennons much exhausted and debilitated. + +He lost no time in carrying out his resolution with regard to his son. +He wrote him a letter full of the praises of Althea, assuring him that +the picture enclosed failed in justice to the original. He also spoke of +his own failing health and his great and increasing desire to behold him +again. Hubert Lisle never received this letter; it never left the office +at Flat Rock; indeed it was destroyed at Kennons. + +Thornton Rush had returned from Europe at the close of the war. Instead, +however, of returning to Virginia, he had put up his shingle as a lawyer +in one of the new States of the growing West. He had not forgiven his +mother that she had allowed his several letters to go unanswered. + +Two years had he now been at Windsor, among the wilds and roughnesses of +a new country; still had his mother for him no word of congratulation, +encouragement, or even recognition. + +When Rusha Lisle read her husband's intercepted letter, thereby +discovering his designs as to the hand of Althea, a new thought struck +her. + +It will be remembered that she took special delight in rendering others +uncomfortable, and in setting up an opposition to everybody's plans. +Against Hubert she had entertained a perpetual ill-feeling. Was he not +the child of her rival? Should he win for bride this sweet child of +sixteen, whose transcendent loveliness made an impression even upon her +own unsusceptible heart? + +Had she not surreptitiously gained access to her husband's last will and +testament, wherein he had made his sister's child co-heiress with Hubert +to all his estate? + +What could be expected of Rusha Lisle but instant action to the +following effect: First, to break her long silence to her son by +enclosing him the picture designed for Hubert, and cordially inviting +him to make her a visit at Kennons, where he would find the beautiful +original. + +Mrs. Lisle kept her own counsel, never intimating a wish or expectation +of her son's return. Her surprise upon his arrival was well +counterfeited; nor was it ever known beyond mother and son that the +latter had not been first to make the overture. But this son, in some +respects so like his mother, might have evinced less disposition to do +at once her bidding had not the inducements held forth been +all-sufficient. + +Thornton Rush was not a lady's man. Byron was made miserable on account +of the deformity of his foot. So our less distinguished but equally +sensitive hero had always the impression that his long wrists and ankles +were subjects of ridicule. He believed the ladies did not fancy him; he +therefore made no efforts to propitiate their favor. If they happened to +laugh in his presence--and the foolish things are always happening to +laugh--he made sure it was at himself; and he shot at them most vengeful +flashes from his cavernous orbs, which annihilated them not at all, but +rendered them more risible. + +"But there is a tide in the affairs of men." + +"There is a hand that shapes our ends, rough-hew them as we will." + +The inanimate picture at which Thornton Rush gazed did not laugh at him. +On the contrary, it looked up to him with such a sweet confiding +trust--O, there was something in that face he had seen in none other. It +wonderfully attracted him. Even had it not, he would have made every +effort to win Althea's heart just the same; and for the very reasons +that had instigated his mother. He hated Hubert Lisle. To thwart him he +would have circumvented heaven and earth. With Thornton Rush this +consideration weighed even more than Althea's promised dowry. + +Spite, revenge, avarice, every worst passion should be gratified in the +accomplishment of a union with Althea. + +Unfortunately, the situation of things at Kennons favored this wretched +wooing. Duncan Lisle was failing rapidly, and had become confined to his +room. Above all others, he loved Althea to be with him; but he knew, and +upon this his wife enlarged, that she should be allowed considerable +recreation. + +When, therefore, Rusha Lisle came in to take the niece's place, +insisting upon the latter taking a ride or drive, her uncle would join +in the request, and Althea was compelled to go. Nor was it such a +hardship. Thornton was ever ready to accompany her. And now, in presence +of this guileless girl, he did, indeed, seem transformed. He was +attentive, kind and gentle, he hastened to comply with her every wish, +to anticipate all. + +For the first time in his life, he put a curb upon his violent temper. +He became kind, even to his horse and his dog--when in _her_ presence. +Discovering her taste for poetry, he sat up nights to commit to memory +whole pages of her favorite Scott and Moore, Bryant and Longfellow, +which he would repeat to her with exceeding force and appropriateness. + +Thornton's voice was as contradictory as the rest. It could be soft or +harsh, musical or discordant. To Althea it was only pleasant and gentle; +and, by degrees, came to possess for her a wonderful charm. + +Mrs. Lisle, so disagreeable to all others, had practiced remarkable +effort and self-control in making herself agreeable to this young girl, +whom she would fain help to draw within her son's meshes. + +Mr. Lisle's first letter to his son, to which we have referred, was not +his last. But every missive, more earnest than the former, met with the +fate of the first. Every day he waited anxiously for the coming of the +mail. It seemed all that interested him. It was pitiful to see his daily +disappointments, the dying out of every renewed hope. + +This constant alternation of hope and despair, with constant suspense, +shortened his days. + +He died suddenly at the last, his expiring gaze upon the portrait of +Ellice that, as of old, still hung over the mantle. + +Did Mrs. Lisle, in presence of death itself, experience no scruple in +having kept the son from his dying father? Would she ever feel remorse +of conscience in this world, or in the next? At all events, she +expedited in every possible manner the wooing and winning of Althea. Was +there in Heaven no guardian angel for this motherless child? Was not her +very name suggestive of protection from above? Had Della's last prayer +on earth failed to reach the throne of Grace and Mercy? + +No obstacle appeared in the way, after the only one was removed by +death. Thornton began to talk about a return to his northwestern home. +His business would still further suffer by a more protracted stay. +Already he had been informed of the _debut_ of a rival, one Capt. +Sharp, upon his own field of law and politics. A Captain for four years +in the Union army--what a claim irresistible would that be upon the good +will and votes of the people! What a tempting bait for the Republican +leaders to throw out to the multitude of small fish! + +But how could he go back alone, after having lived two months in the +light of Althea's presence? So he pleaded his suit to the gentle girl, +veiling still more his fierce claws with the velvet glove, realizing +Shakspeare's + + One may smile and smile, and be a villain. + +Thornton Rush won his bride, and carried back to his northern home the +young girl whose grace and beauty dazzled every eye. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII. + +ALTHEA. + + +Several years have passed. We find Althea a matron of twenty or more, +but did we not know her age, we might think her five years older. She +has not lost her beauty; though it is of a softer, more pensive kind. +She is a gentle, quiet woman, beloved by the people of Windsor, for she +makes no pretensions, and they have no shadow of suspicion that she +deems herself their superior. But it is a never-ceasing wonder to the +good and discerning that she ever came to marry Thornton Rush. + +Thornton Rush is a man of mark. He has his friends and his foes. To +those whom he deems worthy of conciliating, will he fawn and cringe. +Those whom he despairs of making his friends, or those whose friendship +may do him no good, he alienates determinedly, and without scruple. + +For four years has he waged a perpetual warfare with the Captain. The +odds would have been against him, had he not in his wife possessed one +advantage. While Mrs. Sharp possessed by nature the qualities expressed +by her name and made herself unpopular to the good women of Windsor, +Althea, without premeditation or effort, was a universal favorite. +Thornton Rush was well aware of this advantage, and he made the most of +it. + +Like many another man, he did not like to come home and find his wife +gone. He missed her as he would the sun from day. Althea was much +inclined to remain at home; and Thornton would not often have found +chance to grumble upon this score. He was not given to habits of +self-denial; nevertheless, to secure good will and triumph over Sharp, +he would encourage Althea to make frequent visits--nay, often insist +upon it, against her inclination and his own private wish. If his wife +could serve his policy, well and good. What was a wife for? + +There were those who regarded Thornton Rush with positive fear. They +quailed beneath the flash of his eye. Such dared not openly oppose him +and were outwardly his friends. Some, lacking powers of penetration, +deemed him better than he was, and thought there must be much hidden +good in one who had won so sweet a woman for a wife. Few dared exhibit, +or openly proclaim the intense disaffection with which he had inspired +them. But those who did were bitter and unrelenting in animosity; were +enemies indeed, worthy of the name. Foremost among these was Carlton +Sharp. This Captain still led a company well drilled and faithful. On +the other side, Thornton Rush, since about it was no smell of gunpowder, +trained a goodly crew, with which he met the Captain's line. Victory was +not always upon one side. Politics is a very uncertain _res gestoe_. +And human nature, more uncertain still, would vacillate from +wing to wing, now being a Sharp's retainer, and anon a hanger-on of +Rush. Such changelings would not count, but that their vote weighs +heavily. + +Mrs. Lisle had already made one visit to her son, which lasted several +months. During this visit Althea's eyes had been opened, and she had +been led to wonder, as before in the case of her husband, for what +purpose had been assumed the false garb of amiability during the time of +her sojourn at Kennons. Both Mrs. Lisle and that strange woman's son +were mysteries to Althea. To her mind of singular clearness and purity +they were incomprehensible. Their falseness and hardness she was more +ready to believe hallucinations of her own mind, rather than really +glaring faults of character in them. Hence she strove to force herself +to believe them better than they were. But this could not last--and at +length the young wife was driven to the sad conclusion that her +mother-in-law was not only harsh, unamiable, and unforgiving, but +destitute of moral and religious principle, and that the man she had +married was worthy such ignoble parentage. + +Did Althea then learn to regard her husband with scorn and contempt? Did +she become a woman's rights woman and inveigh against man's tyranny and +woman's weak submission? Not yet. Althea was motherless, and to all +intents fatherless. She had a warm, loving nature, and there were few in +this world for her to love. She had given her first love to Thornton, +and though she had become aware that it was not the deepest love of +which her nature was susceptible she yet clung to him, shutting her eyes +to his ill-disguised defects, striving to clothe him with the graces +which she had at first supposed him to possess, and, insensibly to +himself, refining and purifying by slight degrees his selfish nature. + +Then Althea had a pleasant cottage, situated upon a grassy plain, and +embosomed in native forest trees. She had her flowers, music, books, her +day dreams and hours of inspiration, when she recited to the birds +improvisations which might have thrilled or amused a more appreciative +audience. Her naturally happy, cheerful disposition caught and reflected +but the light, and dispensed warmth and harmony upon all around. + +Althea had another grand source of happiness; it was in her one child, +Master Johnny Temple, now just passed his third year. With considerable +likeness to his father, this child possessed the hereditary beauty of +the St. Legers, with that peculiar, queenly poise of the head that had +distinguished Della Lisle. + +He was then a remarkably beautiful child, with a winning and loving +nature. To keep him nicely dressed was one of Althea's sweetest cares; +and the little fellow had such a proud air he would have been taken for +a royal prince. + +Strange would it have been had not Thornton Rush been proud of such a +wife and child. But he kept his pride and admiration shut away from +their objects. He never took the trouble to tell Althea that she was +dear to him, even if he chanced to think so; reversely he had a sullen +way of appearing to think his family a trouble and burthen. Had Althea +suddenly died some day he would have been shaken into due appreciation; +as it was, her presence was like the sunlight that flooded him +unconsciously, and to which he was so accustomed he never thought to be +grateful for it. + +You have seen a little boy with a pet dog. What a life that dog led! +Harnessed to carts, sleds, made to draw heavy loads, after his young +master, besides jerked this way and that, scolded, kicked, cuffed--what +wonder the abused animal ran away or gave up the ghost? Then the boy's +grief! His dear, precious only friend that he loved so devotedly! He +mourns, sighs, weeps, not dreaming that he has himself done his dog to +death. He is lost, having no one to love and torment. + +"I will not mind his cross words, his petulance, his spasms of anger," +constantly repeated the patient wife, but they entered her soul. "I will +disarm him with smiles and pleasant words," she every day resolved; yet +every day was she pierced anew with his arrowy verbality. "He shall have +to remember me only as a good wife and true," she said mentally, even +while her heart was ground as with a heel of iron. + +But the time was coming when Althea might not be able thus to fortify +herself. + +One August morning the family sat at breakfast. It was earlier than +usual, for Mr. Rush was to take the boat, which was to convey him the +first stages of his journey to his native Thornton Hall. Master Johnny +was already up and in his place; for he was a wide-awake fellow, bound +never to be left behind. + +"Johnny will not eat; he has not been well for several days," remarked +the mother anxiously. + +"You are always borrowing trouble. It is too early for the child to +eat," said the undisturbed father. + +"His stomach must be out of order; he threw up yesterday all he ate," +continued Althea. + +"Because you stuffed him so. You are making a glutton of him. You ought +to know he should not eat more than he can hold," replied Thornton, +amiable as usual. + +The child had put his chubby hands upon the table, and laid upon them +his curly head. + +"Look up here, sir," said his father, sharply, "what ails you?" + +The child raised his head wearily, and looked pleadingly to his mother. +She arose, about to take him in her arms, when the father interposed. + +"Let him alone. The boy is well enough. You are making a fool of him; he +will never amount to a row of pins. I am going to take him in my own +hands; he is old enough, and has been babied to death." "Shut up, I tell +you," addressing Johnny, who was now crying for his mother to take him. +"Yes, a new leaf shall be turned over just so soon as I return from +Virginia. And you are about as much of a baby as he is, Althea," whose +eyes he observed to be full of tears. "Here, another cup of coffee; you +have no thought for me--you give all your attention to that +child--there, there is the whistle now! Ten to one I shall be late, and +all your fault, forcing me to talk instead of allowing me to eat. Hand +me my valise--there, good-by and don't fret," and, rushing away, he +gave no kiss to little Johnny, whom he was never more to behold; no kiss +to Althea, whom he was indeed to meet again, to meet again and soon; but +a gulf between him and her, insurmountable as death itself. + +She turned to her child, now that there was no voice commanding, "let +him alone." She rocked him in her arms a long time after he had fallen +asleep. Her tears sparkled upon his jet curls, while her heart was heavy +as lead in her bosom. + +"Am I, then, so unlovely that my husband does not care for me? Once I +thought it was so beautiful to love, and to be loved! His love is gone; +and mine--O my God, let me not lose the last particle of love for the +one I must live with until 'death do us part.' We might be so happy, but +are so miserable! Is it my fault? My conscience is clear; it does not +accuse me. He is so unhappy, so morose; he makes us all so wretched, +when life ought to be so pleasant." + +Althea had placed her low rocker upon the verandah. A gentle breeze +stirred the vines that wreathed the pillars. The birds flew hither and +thither upon boughs that shaded her cottage. The fragrance of flowers +filled the air. + +"How beautiful is all this visible world," exclaimed she. "How full +should it be of enjoyment." "Yes, yes," chirped the birds, the breeze +and the flowers. + +She laid down her child, who still slept heavily. She gazed at him +intently, resolutely banishing unwelcome thoughts of aught that should +harm him. + +The house was in confusion, as it ever is after a hurried departure. +Althea busied herself with setting things straight. Then she sat down to +her piano, and commenced a song; but her voice trembled too much. She +changed into a favorite march, whose notes rose and fell like the +storm-tossed billows of the sea. Battles, quadrilles, waltzes dropped +from her finger-ends, as if they had been magicians, and so mingled, +dislocated and inharmonious, as to make wildest, though still musical +confusion. + +Hand-weary, but heart-lightened, she took up a book. It was a new book, +she had but half-read, "Gates Ajar." She came to the child eating her +ginger snaps in Heaven; to the musician playing favorite airs upon the +piano, to the dress-maker fashioning gossamer garments out of aerial +fabrics, etc., etc. She put by the book. + +"I do not like that kind of a Heaven. How could an authoress make a +Heaven out of the lowest part of earth? To think of eating, darning and +mending up there! We are to do in perfection there, what we most like to +do here! The drunkard then will take his glass; but he does not go to +Heaven. Wonder if the tobacco chewer enters through the pearly +gates--'nothing that defileth or maketh a lie'--ah, how beautiful and +charming Heaven must be; more than we can conceive, or she, who looked +through 'Gates Ajar,' can imagine. I do not quite like to look through +her eyes. I suppose my mother is there. How little I ever think of +her--wonder if she watches me from above; O my mother, my mother in +Heaven, have pity upon your child!" + +A noise from the adjoining room startled her. Had the cat gained +entrance to her sleeping child? She went in hurriedly; Johnny was in +spasms. + +She seized him in her arms, and ran screaming for Mary into the kitchen. +Mary ran for the physician, and the distracted mother, still holding the +convulsed child in her arms, walked up and down the verandah, shouting +for help. + +Doctors and neighbors came. All that medical skill and friendly sympathy +could suggest was done; but all in vain. When the spasm subsided, the +eye was uprolled in unconsciousness, and the face burned with the +fiercest fever. Then would come the fearful convulsion, and you would +not know the beautiful face so racked and tortured. Again the demon +would die out; but reason returned not from his relaxing hold. What a +scene was there! All had been set in order a brief while before. Now, +again, everywhere was confusion. There lay upon the floor the little +cast-off garments. The child had done with them. His rocking-horse stood +in the corner, his whip and gun near by, his box of marbles, his +countless broken toys and the sled he had never used. The last time he +had been to drive with his parents, he had seen that sled inside a +store. He insisted upon having it. + +"But there is no snow to slide upon," objected his father. + +"Johnny no slide--Johnny have 'ittle ocken (oxen) draw sled." + +So the sled was purchased, packed into the carriage, and that night +little Johnny had wished to sit up all night to admire his treasure. + +"These bufully flowers, mamma, see," pointing to the upper surface and +sides of the nosegay, facetiously termed. At length sleep overtook him, +lying under the table side by side with the gaily-painted sled, one +chubby hand grasping the forward rung. The next day the sled had lost +its charms, for Johnny was ill; and the next--alas, here was little +Johnny! We might speak of Althea's bewildered grief; but why should a +mother's hand attempt to write, or a mother desire to read what only a +mother's heart can understand, and but imperfectly express? + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII. + +HUBERT LISLE AT VINE COTTAGE. + + +It was all over, the death and burial of little Johnny. All Windsor +mourned for the beautiful child and the desolate mother. Even Mrs. +Carlton Sharp came, Mr. Rush being gone, and mingled her tears with the +bereaved. And Althea was not ungrateful. She turned not away from all +expressions of sympathy, as it pleases some to do. She knew that only +kindness was intended, and to her wounded, but still loving heart, +gentle words and deeds were as balm that is healing. + +After the first few days, however, Althea was left more alone. The women +of Windsor mostly did their own household labor, and the busy season of +the year compelled them to remain at home. Althea could fix her mind +only upon her lost darling. She collected his playthings, soiled, +broken, and all. She gathered flowers to fling above the brown earth +that hid him from her view. She wrote heart-broken verses in his memory, +and many more she poured forth in unwritten music to the winds. + +There was a certain comfort in thus being able to abandon herself to +grief and lamentation. But how would it be when her husband returned +home? What would he say to the death of his son? As was usual, would he +blame her also for this catastrophe? Or, would this affliction soften +his heart, rendering him more kind in his intercourse with herself? +Althea was revolving this in her mind, in a measure temporarily diverted +from her grief. She was sitting upon the verandah, amongst her flowers, +herself the sweetest of them all. A quick step upon the path startled +her. She arose hastily, and glanced through the vines. + +A stranger that moment caught sight of her, and came around to where she +stood. + +For an instant, he remained regarding her; then he clasped her right +hand in both of his, and pressed it softly to his lips. + +Althea, taken by surprise, was about to resent such a liberty, when the +stranger said: + +"I am your cousin, Althea, you must have heard of Hubert Lisle?" + +It was indeed, Hubert, just over from a six years' residence abroad. Had +he been Althea's own brother, she would not have welcomed him with more +profuse demonstrations of delight. + +"I learned at the hotel of your great affliction, which must be doubly +painful, your husband being absent." Hubert glanced searchingly at his +cousin's face. He had vivid remembrances of Thornton Rush, and held the +conviction, that however much he might have changed for the better, he +could be still anything but an agreeable life-companion. He discovered +nothing by his searching glance, for Althea was thinking of her child, +not of her husband; and this reference replunged her into grief. + +Hubert's sympathy was aroused, and he attempted words of consolation. +When he saw how worse than vain these were, he endeavored to withdraw +her mind, by giving vivid descriptions of and experiences in foreign +lands. + +Althea made an effort--an effort for the lack of which died Dickens' +Fanny, little Paul's mother--and listened through politeness and +courtesy. Gradually, her mind awakened to a lively interest; and before +the day was spent, she regarded her cousin as the most interesting +gentleman of her acquaintance. + +"How fortunate he should have come now, just in this time of my +distress," she whispered to herself, as she was about to retire, +stopping to weep over the little night-wrapper, whose wearer was gone, +but which still had its place beneath her pillow. She had a thought, +too, which she did not whisper, and it was this: "how fortunate too that +he should have come while Thornton is gone, that no thundercloud may +hang over us." + +Hubert had made a short visit to Kennons. Mr. Fuller was still overseer +of the plantation, which he had conducted satisfactorily. Mrs. Lisle +had, of course, returned to Thornton Hall. Amy and Chloe were installed +in their cabins of old, and had supervision of the white house. From +these faithful servants Hubert had learned the deception that had been +practiced upon his father, during that parent's close of life. At least, +he learned how letter after letter had been written, how impatiently +his arrival had been awaited, and with what bitter disappointment that +father had quitted the world, unreconciled that his son came not. + +These communicative old women unfolded to their pet young master, as +they still loved to call him, the plan that father had cherished with +regard to himself and Althea. For this also was not unknown to them. +Duncan Lisle had dropped into Amy's ear more than one hint of this kind. +He had none other to confide in; and during a sleepless night, while Amy +watched, he whiled away an hour discoursing of his son, and of the +project in view. This faithful servant had Althea's picture treasured +with jealous care. + +"You shall see it, Massa 'Ubert, an' see what you've done gone an' +lost," unrolling the precious memento from its many wrappings, as if it +had been a mummy embalmed. + +Hubert beheld "what he had lost" first with admiration, then with a +sigh. But the sigh was not for himself only; it was for what that +sweet-faced soul must suffer, under such guardianship as that of +Thornton Rush. + +Hubert Lisle at once rightly inferred the destination of those letters +which had never reached him; and he glared fiercely at the fireplace now +filled with green boughs, that had afforded flame to enwrap aught so +precious. O, cruel flames, to blot out two such privileges--giving +consolation to a dying father, and receiving from his hands a wife +little less beautiful or good than an angel! And more cruel than flame, +than direful fate, than death itself, the heart of Rusha Lisle, which +Hubert would fain have trodden into indiscriminate dust, in his first +moments of grief and wrath. + +An intense desire of revenge took possession of this outraged son; more +particularly of revenge against Thornton Rush, whose duplicity in +winning Althea was circumstantially detailed to him. + +Hubert Lisle had not only traveled extensively, but had read and studied +deeply. He had scanned all religions, from that of Confucius to +Mormonism and Free-loveism, which is _beyond_ religion, and had no +settled faith in any. He had dived into German transcendentalism and +metaphysics so deeply that he came out clogged and permeated as a fly +miraculously escaped from a jar of honey. He was naturally good and +true, simple minded and high principled; but unlicensed, untrammelled +thought, unsubjective to God's law, had rendered him liable to erect +false theories upon unsound premises, and had undermined in a measure +that nice sense of right and wrong, which had been his proud, happy +birth-right. Yet he would have been startled to have been told that he +was not now, as ever, a bold lover of the truth, that he scorned not +deception and hypocrisy and all manner of evil. He would have bounded, +as from the sting of a serpent, from open temptation to meanness and +wrong. He walked upon the border of a precipice, not knowing but he was +upon the open plain. Thus walketh human frailty, when unenlightened by +faith in God and unfortified by heavenly counsel. + +A modern "reformer," self-styled, acting as a "spiritual medium," is +said thus to have addressed a visitor: + +"It is my very strong impression that you are my affinity. You are to be +my husband; I am to be your wife. You must seek a divorce; so will I, +and happiness awaits us." + +Two divorces ensued, and the gentleman visitor and the "medium" became +one, an affinity, according to "spiritual" directions. + +Hubert Lisle would have turned his back upon such sophistry, and scorned +such a diabolical medium, how fair soever. He had not, however, been at +Vine Cottage a week, every day in the society of one whose situation so +much appealed to his sympathy and kindness, when he became conscious +that he had been taken into a high mountain, and had not strength to +say, "Get thee behind me, Satan." + +From this height was offered him a treasure worth more than kingdoms and +thrones and all the riches of the earth. Instead of shuddering and +turning back, he fixed his eye upon the glittering prize. + +"It is thine," whispered the tempter, "the hand that holds so fair a +pearl is all unworthy. It chafes and frets within the cruel grasp which +an ungleaming pebble might fill as well. It would glow in the sunlight +of your fostering care. It would enrich your soul as a priceless gem; as +an amaranthine flower it would breathe unto your heart an eternal +perfume." + +Hubert Lisle had made obeisance to feminine beauty in every land; but +his heart had remained untouched. Like his father years before, he had +arrived at the mature age of twenty-eight, unscathed by the blind god's +arrow. + +Hit at last, and so unwisely pierced! To love the wife of another! +Hubert would have scorned such an insinuation but a few days before. But +he had not then seen Althea. He loved her, was she not his cousin? He +loved her, who could resist, she was so beautiful and good? He loved +her, she was so unhappy, _must_ be unhappy as the wife of Thornton Rush. +She had been won with false words and deceitful ways and wiles. Thornton +deserved to lose what he had dishonestly gained, and what he apparently +valued so little. Had not Thornton Rush wronged and, as it were, robbed +the dead, and bitterly betrayed himself to gain possession of a jewel +which should have been his own, which he would have worn so proudly? Had +not this man been his enemy from childhood; with his mother, the curse +of his father's house? Ever in his way, a perpetual thorn in the flesh, +could he not now dislodge him root and branch, and spit him upon an +arrow, that should cease never to quiver? + +Hubert Lisle experienced qualms of conscience, debated as to right and +wrong, gave many thoughts to the censoriousness of the world, but he had +not the fear of God before his eyes. + +"I can win her if I will," was his confident thought at the first. + +"I will win her at all hazards," was his later iron purpose. + +And Althea! Oh! is it thus that the child of Ellice doth come to Della's +daughter? + +And what hath this daughter as a shield from the tempter? Came he not +unto sinless Eve in Paradise; unto her even who had seen the Eternal +Majesty, and listened to His voice? + +And Althea had not laid up her treasure in Heaven. She had not given her +wounded heart to Him who was wounded for our transgressions. She had not +poured her sorrows into the ear of the Infinite, nor laid her bleeding +hands upon the cross of Christ. + +So turned Althea from a now unloved, ungracious husband; from a bitter +sorrow for her lost child, to human love and human consolation. + +But Althea was not won so easily from her stronghold of duty. Nor would +she, on recovering from the shock of Hubert's first proposal, consent to +flee at once, putting the sea between them and Thornton Rush. Hubert +pleaded strongly and well, but could gain only this point. He would +return to Kennons, and dispose of his property and hers. She would +remain with her husband for the present. The first time he should raise +his hand against her, as he had already done, she would leave his house +and procure a divorce. With this was Hubert fain to be content; and the +day before the anticipated return of Thornton Rush, after his absence of +three weeks, he left Vine Cottage and the sad-faced lady who dwelt +therein, confident that ere many months he would have Althea as his +wife, and sweet revenge upon his old-time enemy. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV. + +JEALOUSY. + + +Naturally, Althea was a changed person in the eyes of her husband. A man +less jealously disposed might have attributed this to the sudden death +of an only beloved child. But to Thornton, the knowledge that Hubert +Lisle, a man his superior in mental, moral and personal accomplishments, +had associated with Althea during almost the whole period of his +absence, this knowledge, we say, was to Thornton as gall and wormwood. + +"And how did you like your cousin?" he questioned with assumed +carelessness. + +Had Althea answered equally carelessly, "Oh! very well," she would have +aroused suspicion, for she well understood her husband. So she said with +enthusiasm: "I liked him very much indeed. I wish you could have met +him. He is very agreeable and most intelligent." + +"You speak as if you thought I was a stranger to him. I have seen Hubert +Lisle before to-day!" + +"But you have not seen him of late. A six years residence abroad must +have changed him greatly." + +"Umph! Your cousin is not the first person who has crossed the Atlantic, +as you would have me infer. At all events, he is a sneak and a coward to +stay in my house more than two weeks, and decamp just before I was +expected." Althea was silent. + +"A sneak and a coward, I repeat; what have you to say to that?" demanded +Thornton, his eyes blazing like coals of fire. + +"Nothing," said the wife, indifferently. + +"Nothing! By Mars! do you answer _nothing_, when I ask you a civil +question? It is well he did not let me find him here; it is not the +first insult he would have got from me, and perhaps something worse. If +there's a person on earth I hate worse than Sharp, it is that +self-conceited Hubert Lisle. He is a puppy, an upstart, vain as a woman, +and deep and false as perdition itself." + +He waited as if expecting a reply. None came; he glanced sideways to his +wife, and continued: + +"Yes, you two would make a very pretty couple, very suitable. Your two +heads are forever among the stars. I wonder there is a book of poetry +left in the house. It is a marvel you both did not sail away in some +carved shell of hollow pearl, almost translucent with the light divine +_des tous deux_ within. For ottomans you could have piles of Scott, +Moore, Byron, Shelley, and Keats; and for food and drink, you could have +stringed instruments, and easel, palette, and brush. How contemptible +are womanish tastes in a man!" Again he waited vainly for a reply. The +pallid fingers of Althea were pulling in pieces a half-faded flower, +upon which her lustrous eyes were unvaryingly fastened. + +"Good heavens, Althea, how provoking you are!" cried Thornton, rising +from his seat and confronting furiously his wife, "cannot you speak to a +man; what have you to say, what are you thinking of?" + +"Thinking of?" she said absently, scattering the petals from her fair +palm to the floor, then raising her eyes full to his: "Thinking of the +fair little blossom that withered in its bloom. I have done wrong to +weep for him such bitter tears; for he was _your_ child, and had he +lived he might have cursed some woman's life as you have cursed mine." + +This was uttered apparently without anger, and in modulated tones. But +no words of Althea had ever struck Thornton Rush like these. He was +speechless; and when she arose and passed him by to an adjoining room, +he stirred not hand nor foot. If she had expected then would fall the +arranged blow, she would have been disappointed. But she had not +expected it, nor even thought about it. The faded flower had, indeed, +brought up her own withered blossom, as she had said. Had her husband's +discourse been of Johnny, instead of the senseless tirade against her +cousin, had he exhibited kindness, and generous sympathy for herself, +she might still have been won back to duty. But now, Thornton's words +and sneers, however deserved she might have felt them to be, caused her +to contrast the wretchedness of a continued life with him with what it +_might be_. Thus far she had been agitated by indecision and scruples, +they should henceforth trouble her no more. She was fully resolved, +even more than when she had promised Hubert. + +In her own room, Althea withdrew the blinds and looked out at the sky. +It was covered with clouds, save one space of blue. + +"Thus is _my_ sky covered with gloom," she murmured, "thus amidst the +darkness gleams my one ray of precious light. O blessed ultramarine, +from on high I take thee as a token. God is good; God does not will that +I should suffer; He does not will that I should love a demon. I am still +so young; a long life may be in store for me; a cruel, wretched life +with Thornton Rush, who assumed the guise of an angel of light to win me +to destruction. A peaceful, happy life with Hubert, for whom heaven +itself must have intended me. The sin is Thornton's, not mine, nor +Hubert's. On the contrary, to continue to live with Thornton would be a +sin. I can no longer deceive myself or him, I love him not; I believe I +could hate him!" and a gleam unusual shot from the large, dreamful eyes. + +Althea forgot, while she thus soliloquised, that she could not thus have +felt, or could not have spoken such words, had not Hubert Lisle won her +love. While her heart had not been given to another, she could have +endured her husband patiently, fulfilling her wifely duties, and +possessing a conscience clear before God. She would leave her husband +then, not because of the harshness and cruelty allegible, but because +she had criminally strayed from her allegiance and given her love where +she had no right to give. + +So blinded, however, was Althea, she did not perceive this. While she +was wronged, indeed, by Thornton, she was still farther wronged by +Hubert. No unkind treatment of the one could excuse her for listening, +without rebuke, to words of unlawful love from the other. They were an +insult to her good sense and virtue; and so at first had Althea esteemed +them to be. But by and by--ah, it is an old story, and the saddest, +sorriest of all stories in this life of ours; reading it, or hearing it, +one sighs that our guardian angel's wings are invisible, and that once +from out their protecting shadow, we rush headlong unto darkness and +death. + +We will not assert that Thornton felt not the death of his only son; he +was not so inhuman as to be unaffected. He would have given all his +earthly possessions to hear again that winsome voice of his child +resounding through the house. He had not realized + + "How much of hope, how much of joy, + May be buried up with an only boy!" + +until the house was darkened by the death of Johnny. The grief which he +experienced, however, affected him strangely. As we have seen, instead +of softening his selfish nature, it rendered him more morose and +censorious. It alienated, instead of binding him closer to his bereaved +wife. + +One reason was in this; that Althea had for him now no winning ways. She +made no effort at conciliation, and sought not to give or to receive +mutual sympathy. Indeed, from the period of the conversation above +recorded between husband and wife, he was like a volcano, and she like +an iceberg. As much as he was capable of loving, he loved Althea. +Desirable as had been her fortune in his eyes, he would never have +practised such a series of stratagems and self-denials, had she not +personally been of great value in his eyes. When won, and she was surely +his, he discontinued his deception, and appeared his natural self. She +became to him, as we have before said, like the pet dog to his young +master, though secretly beloved, yet ill-treated, scolded and abused. +The thought of her ever being lost to him had not occurred to his mind, +until he learned of the visit of Hubert Lisle. With him, Thornton well +knew he would suffer in comparison. That was the reason Thornton's +mother had taken such infinite and dishonorable pains in preventing his +coming to his dying father. Althea would surely prefer her cousin. + +But Thornton was at a loss what to make of Althea's present behavior. He +had at first felt a deadly jealousy of Hubert. That emotion had almost +over-shadowed his grief. But he could not learn that any communication +was kept up between the parties. No letters came to and fro. The mention +of Hubert's name caused no blush upon Althea's cheek. She spoke of him +kindly and naturally, as of a brother that was dear to her. In the +distant years, he had been convinced of Hubert's honorable nature. He +might not have changed. At all events he was gone now, and might never +return. It was more agreeable to attribute Althea's rigid coldness to a +shock of grief, rather than to a shock of hatred to himself or of +affection for another. Nevertheless, he gave her no peace nor quiet. He +became angered if she did not converse, and equally out of temper with +whatever she might say. + +Does such a man deserve a wife? Let him have a woman, then, who will +bring him to his senses--or what passes for senses--in a manner +veritably Xantippean; and not one of those tender-hearted, peace-loving +creatures who would bless some good man's heart and home. + +There are few men upon whom kindness and gentleness will not make more +or less impression; but our unprepossessing hero is of that unfavored +few. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV. + +THE AWAKENING. + + +After a few weeks, Thornton has something outside his house to engage +him. Election is approaching. Although neither Thornton nor his rival +are in the field as candidates, each has his favorite nominee to +support. The fire that Thornton has kept raging within Vine Cottage is +now transferred to hall, stump and settler's cabin. Sharp is not in the +background. His antagonist hears of him, or crosses his trail here, +there and elsewhere. He is put to his wits' end in checkmating and +circumventing him. He, at length, learns something quite astonishing. He +has returned from an extended trip to the country, supposing Sharp to be +not far in front or rear. To his chagrin he has remained all the while +in town, and been an attendant at the Catholic Mission, being held for +ten days in Windsor. + +"That is a game at which two can play, I am thinking," said Thornton, +mentally, grinding his teeth at the thought of the votes Sharp's +presence might secure among such a crowd. + +"Althea," he said, excitedly, going over to his house, "that rascally +fellow is robbing me of all the Irish votes. Get your bonnet and come +with me down to St. Mary's. I can drop on my knees and become as good an +idolater as that scoundrel of a Sharp. Who would ever have suspected him +of pursuing that dodge? But he is up to all games. Come, how long does +it take you to put on your bonnet and shawl? They say an old Jesuit is +going to preach; I think when his mission is over, I will take private +lessons of him in the art of intrigue. That is what Sharp is at, I'll be +bound. Never mind your gloves; you can be drawing those on while we are +walking along. You look like a charming little widow in black." + +The wife looked up at the husband in blank surprise at so unusual an +epithet as "charming" coming from his lips, and applied to her. But the +truth is, Thornton had done an unusual thing--taken one glass too much, +and he spoke unguardedly. He even drew Althea's little hand within his +own and through his left arm on the way to St. Mary's, instead of +striding on a few paces in advance, as was usual. Just before arriving, +he addressed Althea: + +"Now that you have come so far, do the thing up brown. Make your +prettiest courtesy to all the graven images, and particularly to that +idol toward the left corner. It will be no trouble for you to kneel; +that is always in place for a woman. Keep your eyes open and bow low to +every old lady who has a husband, or a son old enough to vote. Don't +hold your kerchief to your nose, even should you be knocked over with +the incense, and when the bell rings bow down double to the floor; ha! +it is a wife can make or break her husband's fortune for time; do you +hear, wife?" + +"Yes, I hear," softly replied Althea, more than slightly disgusted. + +They entered the church which was already crowded. But Thornton Rush +elbowed his way up the aisle till he stood not far from the altar. A +gentleman politely gave his seat to Althea, but Thornton continued to +stand, a perfect spectacle unto all beholders. He folded his arms and +glanced out savagely. The first eye he met was Sharp's. Yes, there sat +his enemy, snugly ensconced in Mr. McHugh's pew--that same Mr. McHugh +who had told him three days before, that he did not consider Sharp the +honestest man in the world! He had counted on McHugh--and now where was +he? + +Protestants who were present were quite as much surprised at seeing Mr. +Rush as were the Catholics. He had never been seen even in a +meeting-house, unless at a lecture, political caucus, or some kindred +rather than religious entertainment. Sharp was a rigid Presbyterian; but +his rival had never thought it worth his while to pretend to imitate him +in that particular. On the contrary, by keeping aloof, he found favor +with the more numerous Methodists, the few Universalists, Baptists, +Spiritualists, etc., which more or less abounded in the rapidly growing +little town. To all these he could be all things. But as to the Catholic +fold, ah, if that sharp wolf, or wolf Sharp, got in there would be +mischief astir. He must leap after, for, to a Catholic, his religion was +more than meat or drink, and he would become naturally a friend to him +who was friendly to his religion. + +Althea had but rarely been inside a Catholic church. When a child she +had been more than once to St. Patrick's, with her uncle and cousins, +during a temporary absence of her aunt. She had been partial to the +Episcopal service; but as there was no society of this sect at Windsor, +she had very often followed her husband's example of remaining at home +on Sundays; though sometimes she attended at the different +denominational houses, as inclination urged, or some stranger, man or +woman, preached. + +Upon this occasion Althea was peculiarly impressed; not so much by the +blaze of light, the brightness and perfume of flowers, nor by the +commanding attitude of the aged missioner, who stood grasping the +mission cross and about to speak. It was the sudden memory of her uncle, +John Temple, who so loved and practiced this same religion that touched +her soul. He came before her, in all his simple, unpretending honesty +and truth. Never so much, as at this moment, had she appreciated his +worth. She did, indeed, bow her head with reverence before the altar, +not in obedience to her husband's commands, but in tribute to her +uncle's memory. She had named her only child his unforgotten name, and +now the child had joined him in the spirit-world. The two came before +her like phantoms evoked. Were they, indeed, hovering around her in this +sacred place? Such was Althea's impression, and how guilty felt she +before them! Still more lowly bowed her unworthy head, and pressing her +clasped hands to her heart, she cried, "O God, be merciful to me a +sinner!" + +There was a hush in the swaying crowd, for the priest was about to +speak. He had stood during several minutes, until even the latest seemed +to have arrived; then, in the general silence of expectation, his voice +sounded clear and full and his words were: "O God, be merciful to me a +sinner!" + +Such an unexpected echo of her own unbreathed words startled Althea like +an electric shock. For a moment she raised her head, and her drooping +eyes fell upon the utterer of that broken-hearted prayer. Then upon the +clasped hands fell again the white forehead, nor was it lifted more +until after an hour or two of stirring eloquence the missioner closed +with a repetition of his opening words, "O God, be merciful to me a +sinner!" + +It had been to Althea the day, the hour of her visitation from on High. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI. + +LIGHT AFTER DARKNESS. + + +Mr. Rush was privately informed that his rival was to canvass "Stony +Creek" precinct on the following day. Accordingly he was up before +daylight, drank half a dozen raw eggs, for which he had a particular +passion, mounted his horse, and left Windsor behind, before Mr. Sharp +had opened his eyes. Before leaving, however, the politician shook his +wife by the arm; there was no need, although, for she had not slept, and +thus addressed her: + +"Althea, I am going to 'Stony Creek' that I may head that fellow. Don't +fail to attend the Mission to-day; and do, for goodness' sake, hold your +head up, and not fall fast asleep as you did last night. You acted like +a mummy. Don't know when I shall be back; you need not look for me. Have +you heard what I said? Don't forget now about turning in with the +idolaters, look at the old Jesuit, and pretend to hear what he says, if +you don't." + +Althea breathed a sigh of relief as she found herself thus unexpectedly +left alone for the day. She would surely avail herself of the +permission, command rather, to go to St. Mary's. She had not slept, nor +felt need of sleep; she had never been so wide awake; indeed, it was as +if she were just awakened from a life-long slumber. + +While still meditating upon her pillow, the six o'clock bell rang; this +reminded her that Mass had been appointed for that hour. She would go. +She dressed hurriedly, and proceeding to the kitchen, told Mary, who was +a Catholic, that she might postpone breakfast, and come with her to +Mass. Mary looked up with a pleased surprise and cheerful "Yes ma'am," +and was soon in readiness. + +Althea understood nothing whatever of the ceremony of the Mass; nor, on +this morning, did she seek to understand it. It was not for this purpose +she had come to St. Mary's. It was to feel again a sense of that strange +nearness to her uncle and her child; to feel again near to Heaven and to +God. And, though her conscience had been painfully aroused, though she +felt keenly a thousand stings and reproaches, which would probably but +be renewed and heightened by this repeated visit, she would not have +remained away, not though her dearest wishes could have been realized in +an hour. + +Althea remained absorbed in deep thought and reflection through the +first, second, and third Mass; the quiet intervals were all the same to +her. She was heedless of those who came in or who went out, as well as +of those who knelt around the confessionals, except now and then to +wonder, as she chanced to meet some tearful eye, if the world held +another heart so lonely, desolate, hopeless as her own. + +Hopeless? She recalled the day when she had beheld the space of blue in +the sky--the hole in the day, Pug-on-a-kesheik, thus termed by her +Chippewa friends--which she had taken as a token that her love for +Hubert was no sin. She recalled the momentary joy that had animated her +as she, in imagination, clasped that love to her heart, as a gain for +her loss, as a balm for her bitter sorrow. She remembered how she had +even dropped upon her knees in thankfulness to heaven for having given +her such a comfort in the midst of her grief. Should _she_ have scruples +when ministers of God had lifted up holy hands and sanctified such +unions? Thus had her first sense of horror been blunted, and blushless +become her keen, womanly shame. + +Why then, with a sense of the presence of the glorified spirits of her +uncle and child, assumed that caressed infatuation, that which she had +deemed a higher, nobler love, proportions of gigantic horror? Why had +she spat out as gall and wormwood the sweet morsel she had rolled under +her tongue? Why, giving up her only joy, trampling down with all her +strength and might the one hope of her existence, had she returned to +this strange house, wherein she could but beat her breast and cry out +"unworthy, unworthy"? Was she the first woman who had mistaken dross for +gold; and, finding her error, might not she, like others, fling it aside +for the shining ore that lay in her path? Should her hand still grasp +the piercing thorn, when the rose bloomed temptingly before her? + +Thus listened Althea to human sophistry, until God spoke to her through +the lips of the Jesuit priest. And he said, slowly and solemnly, +grasping in his right hand the emblem of our religion: + +"And unto the married I command, yet not I, but the Lord, let not the +wife depart from her husband. But if she separate, let her remain +unmarried, or be reconciled to her husband; and let not the husband put +away his wife." + +Had these words come down from the heavens in tones of thunder they +could not have produced upon Althea a more stunning effect. Was she here +to recognize the hand of God? Had _He_ inspired this priest to speak +upon a subject that was thrilling her with pain, doubt, and fear? + +A masterly discourse followed upon the indissolubility of the marriage +tie. "Shall it be insisted upon then, do you say," toward the close of +his impassioned words, "that a woman shall suffer insult, effects of +drunkenness, abuse of all kinds? This is hard, indeed, but there is +something worse than that; for a suffering wife to break the law of God, +and marry another husband! For, whether is it not better to suffer than +to sin? Wherefore came our blessed Lord upon earth, but to save us from +the effects of our transgressions? He laid down his life that we might +live. He suffered that we might rejoice. But He suffered not the death +of the Cross that we might enjoy to the utmost the pleasures of _this_ +life. He endured not the bloody sweat, the scourgings, scoffs, +revilings, and all the attendancies of betrayal, trial, and crucifixion, +that, with impunity, we might set at defiance His divine law, and live +in open rebellion to the Christian rule He came to establish. God +Almighty help us, if we expect to get to heaven in any other way than by +the Cross of Christ! Think of it! The Cross of Christ! Can you associate +with those words, so dear, so sublime, to every Catholic heart, aught of +this world's ease, or luxury, or happiness? How many thousands saintly +souls have flung aside all that the world could offer sweet and +beautiful to embrace this hard, this cruel Cross! And meet they no +reward? Hard Cross and cruel to eyes not comprehending, because separate +from transitory joys, but yielding balm and incense sweeter and more as +most closely pressed to the heart. And woman, first at the sepulchre, +first in every good word and work, is it not _her_ glory to suffer for +the Cross of Christ? How much has she of His spirit, who cannot bear +without rising anger one unkind word or provoking act? Who gives taunt +for taunt, and blow for blow? Who disregards His express commands, +availing herself of the civil law of divorce, which she knows to be at +open variance with 'Let not the wife separate from her husband: but if +she separate, let her remain unmarried, or else let her be reconciled +unto her husband!' + +"What is termed in Jurisprudence the common law, falls sometimes heavily +in individual cases; but for that reason would we do away with it +altogether? The law of the indissoluble tie of marriage does, we admit, +fall heavily upon some, yea, many lives; should we, therefore, infer +God's dictation to be erring, and practice the human law opposing His +own? Supposing in some instances, a life to be made happier, even +better; would that compensate for the abolishment of a law upon which +rests the general happiness of domestic society--nay, upon which rests +society itself? Better that few should suffer than that anarchy prevail. +Better that all should understand the marriage bond to be indissoluble +but by death, that it may be assumed carefully and solemnly as a +life-affair of the utmost moment, and not entered into with thoughtless +levity as a bargain that may be broken to-morrow. In a life-journey so +intimate, patience, forbearance, meekness, long-suffering are requisite. +These are Christian virtues which will render any yoke easy and every +burden light. No Christian nation should legalize divorce. No true +Christian will avail himself of the law of divorce. In the eye of every +Christian man or woman, whosoever is married to him or her that 'has +been put away' is one of whom it is said, 'they shall never enter the +Kingdom of Heaven.' Be not deceived. Even though those called and +calling themselves ministers of God blaspheme Heaven by professing to +bless such unhallowed unions, they are of the spirit of darkness, and +lead unto moral death. + +"Were there but this life, the case would be different. You could live +and be merry, because to-morrow you die. It is upon this principle the +divorce law has obtained. The world and Christianity are at variance. +The one offers you comfort and ease, the other a continual conflict with +the flesh and the devil. In the end, the world's votary shall vainly beg +for a drop of water to cool the parched tongue; while the Christian +warrior, having lain aside buckler and shield, reposes under the green +palms of victory and peace in the Kingdom of Infinite Love." + +The noble follower of St. Loyola might reasonably find fault with the +above, as a citation of his words. But they so glowed and sparkled that +they could be caught only in fragments and snatches; imperfect as they +are, we trust they convey an idea of what was impressed upon the mind of +Althea when the Jesuit closed--"in the name of the Father, and of the +Son and of the Holy Ghost." + +Althea was stricken--not blind as was the persecutor of the +Christians--but with a steady lightning-flash of light that was +intensely distressing. It discovered to her her heart full of sin and +shame. It betrayed the slippery sands upon which her feet were treading. +It revealed the gulf into which she had been about to plunge. Upon such +a flood of light she could not close her eyes. She reflected that Paul +had cried, "Lord, what wouldst thou have me to do," and he had been sent +to Ananias, the priest, "who would tell him what he was to do." She did +not stop to marvel why the Lord had not Himself told him what to do +directly, but instinctively did what Paul did, obeyed instructions and +sought the priest. + +It was now nearly noon. Althea had been sleepless, and had not tasted +food since the preceding evening. She looked around for Mary, that she +might accompany her to the priest's house, where she rightly supposed +the Missioner to have taken up his abode. She saw not Mary, who had gone +home before the sermon, supposing that as her mistress had had no +breakfast, she must stand in need of dinner. Instead of Mary, Althea +beheld Kitty Brett, one of Mary's comrades, whom she had often seen at +her house. + +Kitty Brett had one of the sunniest faces in the world; and it smiled +all over with willingness as Althea made her request. O yes, she would +go right over with her, and, if she wished, would introduce her to +Father Ryan, the parish priest, whom she would at first be likely to +see. Moreover, her mistress had gone to the country with her children, +so she had nothing to prevent her remaining during the little time Mrs. +Rush might wish to prolong her visit. + +Father Ryan evinced no surprise, however much he might have felt, on +meeting this unaccustomed visitor. Althea was in a state for no +preambles and no delays. She at once inquired if she could be permitted +an interview with the Missioner. + +The priest hesitated for a moment. Had she been a Catholic, he would +have put her off until after the laborer of the morning had been +refreshed. Reflecting, he withdrew, and very soon after, invited her +into another room, where she found herself alone with the true priest of +God. + +Oh! Althea, thy mother, who gave thee to God at the first moment of thy +existence, and at the last of hers, who had aspirations for the truth +which God may have regarded, must have wept tears of joy, and called +upon the angels of Heaven to rejoice over her daughter that repented. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII. + +ALTHEA'S TRIALS. + + +Althea's conversion from error to truth, from premeditated crime, though +she was criminal almost unconsciously, to firm amendment, was one of +those miracles in which even Protestantism believes. Such Althea +considered it--a direct interposition of Providence. She recognized, +with peculiar awe, the hand of Almighty God, and became as a little +child, willing to be led whithersoever He would. + +It was natural she should turn to the bosom of that Church, before whose +altar she had seen her own soul as in a mirror, and whose anointed +priest seemed to have been chosen of God for her awakening and +instruction. + +A few years earlier, she might have had prejudices to overcome; though +slight, for one brought up an Episcopalian. That her uncle lived and +died a good and true Catholic, and that her embittered aunt had embraced +and become greatly attached to the true Church, had insensibly +recommended it to her confidence. At first, she deemed herself unworthy +to enter the fold. She had broken, in thought, one of its stringent +laws. What she had come to regard as but a venial error, now appeared to +her as an unpardonable sin. So unpardonable, indeed, that left to +herself, she might have despaired of forgiveness, and returned to it +cherishingly, seven times worse than before. But this aged Missioner, +wise and experienced, knew well how to guide this untried soul. She was +not the first, by hundreds and thousands, who had knelt to him for +direction. He well understood the malady, and like a skillful physician, +knew what remedies to apply. + +In a week, at the close of the Mission, Althea was ready for baptism. +She had her catechism by heart, and was pretty well grounded in +instruction. She had faith which would remove mountains, a confident +hope in Jesus, and a willing heart and hand for Christian action. She +stumbled not over Transubstantiation, nor Confession, nor any of the +Seven Sacraments. She embraced them with a loving heart and a simple +faith, not questioning but they were of God, since they were in His own +Church. + +Whispers and winks were on the increase among Protestants. To secure an +election according to his own ideas, Mr. Rush had placed his wife where +she had made her own calling and election sure. This fact was slow in +dawning upon him, but when it had fairly caught his vision, it shone +with the effulgence of the sun. His friends had no pity for him. He had +placed his wife in the fire; what could he expect but that she would be +burned? It did not alter the case that Mrs. Sharp had been also in the +fire, but came out unconsumed. She was made of sterner stuff. Stubble +would burn, but rocks were incombustible. + +Althea anticipated a storm; but she braved it, and asked Thornton's +consent to her baptism. She might as well have asked the mountain to +come down and be bathed in the sea. He was fierce as the whirlwind, +unrelenting as death. His words of scorn and anger poured down like a +water-spout, but unlike this element of destruction, his fury became not +spent. + +He forbade her attendance at the closing exercises of the Mission, or +any further discourse with the Jesuit. Of this Jesuit, he had jocosely +asserted he was going to take lessons in the art of intrigue. He deemed +the lesson had been given without his seeking, and it was no less +galling from his secret conviction that it was all his own fault. + +Had his wife asked his permission to join either of the other sects, he +would have answered her with an indifferent laugh and sneer. _That_ +would have been of no consequence. She could have been a Methodist, or a +Universalist, anything but a Catholic! Like a Pagan Diocletian, he would +have gathered all Catholics together, and thrown them to wild beasts. +The coming election had lost for him its interest. It had cost him dear. +Everything might go to Sharp and the dogs; one thing was certain--his +wife should not become a Catholic. He remained steadily at Vine Cottage, +a Cerberus to guard his domain. The Missioner would leave Windsor on the +morrow. Althea wrote him a brief note, which she sent by Mary, asking +him what she should do. + +His reply was this verbal message: "Wait--and trust in God!" Mary +delivered this faithfully, and added: + +"He said, ma'am, to tell you that he would never forget to pray for you +at every Mass he should say." + +"God will hear _his_ prayer," was Althea's thought, and she was +comforted. + +The very spirit of evil seemed to have taken possession of Mr. Rush. He +was more and more resolved to have entirely annihilated every trace of +the new faith in his wife. For this purpose he sent far and near, until +he had literally the proverbial "house full of ministers." His wife was +under exhortation first from one, then from another, every hour in the +day. + +First the Presbyterian, then the Methodist, the Baptist, even the +Spiritualist expounded and sermonized upon the several beauties of the +Protestant faith. Their principal ammunition, however, was expended in +besieging, battering and anathematizing the Catholic Church. + +Every minister had a book for her to read, at home in his library, which +he would bring her, the reading of which would prove convincingly +conclusive. One had Fox, one Hogan, another Kirwan and Maria Monk, and +still another the multitudinous tomes of Julia McNair Wright. As to +Edith O'Gorman--no need to allude to this lately arisen bright +particular star, in whose flood of light, the black sun of Catholicism +was going down. Mary Stuart was not more tortured by Elizabeth's +emissaries, than was Althea by these clever ministers. But the ill-fated +Queen, nursed from childhood in the faith, was not more unwaveringly +firm than was this six-days' neophyte. + +With this array of ministers, however, was not her greatest trial. They +might deem her stupid, obstinate, blind, and infatuated, but they were +at least gentlemanly and polite. She could reply to them as she thought +best, without danger of having her head taken off. She was even glad of +their presence as they went and came again, because, while they talked, +her husband was for the most part silent. + +And when he demanded that one or other should receive her into his +church, he was in turn offended at them, because they insisted that the +lady's consent was necessary. When the subject was given over, and +everyone had departed finally to his own house, then Althea's true +martyrdom commenced. + +"You have become a believer in Purgatory, and your faith shall spring +from actual knowledge; for as long as you live I will make this house to +you a purgatory," declared the enraged husband, furiously. And he kept +his word. But the good God, omnipotent on earth as in heaven, had said: +"Thus far shalt thou go, but no farther." + +Althea would have remained quiet and resigned, never mentioning the +subject of her faith, but this Thornton would not permit. He would talk +of it incessantly. To Althea it finally became a fire-brand, which, +constantly waving to and fro before her eyes, threatened to turn her +brain to madness. + +She became dangerously ill. A severe fever had set in, to break up which +baffled the physician's skill, when too late he was called. Thornton +had persisted in not believing her sick, and had taken his own time for +calling in Dr. Hardy. + +Kitty Brett, finding a girl to take her own place, offered her services, +which were accepted, as personal attendant upon Althea. As the +unfortunate lady grew rapidly worse, Mrs. Moffat was engaged as head +nurse. + +This Mrs. Moffat was by many regarded as the salt that saved Windsor. +Windsor would have gone to destruction long ago, physically, but for the +saving help of Mrs. Moffat's hands. True, she was a married woman, and, +like the martyr, was followed by "nine small children, and one at the +breast," but this never prevented her lending a helping hand to any and +every applicant. She could be absent from home a week at a time. The +children could stir up their flour and water, and bake their hard cakes. +They could lie down at night wherever they chanced to give up and fall, +and arise with the morning's sun, ready dressed. Falling down cellar--it +was a trap-door--other people's children would have broken their necks, +but these little Moffats, after turning two or three somersaults, +reached the bottom standing upright. They nursed themselves through +mumps, measles, whooping cough, and all kindred diseases by playing in +the creek; so that Dr. Hardy had serious thoughts of recommending +"creek-playing" as a specific in such cases. They were hearty, hardy +little fellows, all boys but the eldest, and cared nothing more for +their mother's brief visits, after they had had their scramble for the +_bon-bons_ with which she was in the habit of regaling them. + +Mrs. Moffat was, indeed, a most valuable attendant upon the sick. Unlike +most people, she was in her element when in a sick-room. She could +accommodate herself to every situation and emergency. If things and +people did not go to suit her she could go to suit them. There was no +grating, no friction where Mrs. Moffat was; her very presence was +_oily_, so to say. She could lift people heavier than herself; there +appeared no limit to her powers of endurance. She could watch night and +day without the least detriment to her nerves. She could taste the most +nauseous potions, and submit to most disgusting odors, nor make the +least wry face about it. If she found a patient not very sick she would +sit down and pour forth a gossipy stream of talk for an hour, when, ten +to one, every ailment would be forgotten. There was a charm in her tone, +word, and manner that affected like magic. Of course, this woman had a +drunken husband--such women always have that affliction. There were +those, even in Windsor, who said they did not blame Mr. Moffat for +taking to drink--if _their_ wives were always from home, and the house +forever topsy-turvey, and the children making pyramids of themselves +like a pile of ants, they should take to drinking too. But nobody could +wait on these very people when sick but Mrs. Moffat. + +Althea was sure of the best attention while Mrs. Moffat waited on her; +and this capable person scarcely left her bedside. Kitty Brett was _her_ +right hand, as she herself was Althea's. Kitty was kept upon a steady +march, here, there, and everywhere; and she was as willing as was her +superior. She could not do enough for one who had been persecuted for +the faith. + +The master of the house kept a steady watch over all. His argus-eye was +ever on the alert lest, despite his vigilance, the Catholic priest +should be smuggled into the house. + +Althea was constantly delirious, and it was feared she might die without +having recovered her reason. The crisis approached, and Dr. Hardy +watched her silently for many hours. He had done his utmost, and though +he hoped faintly he feared the worst. Mrs. Moffat's whispered loquacity +was awed into silence. Kitty wept silently at the foot of the bed, +praying fervently as she wept. Thornton had walked to and fro in his +slippers, his long hands crossed upon each other behind his back, +casting out occasionally fierce glances from his cavernous brows. He +came and stood, like a thundercloud, by the Doctor's side. + +"Any change?" he whispered. + +The doctor shook his head. + +"What do you think, any chance?" + +The doctor looked at his watch, which he had been holding in his hand. +"Yes, while she breathes there's a chance, I suppose," replied the +doctor, without looking up, but changing uneasily his position. + +"Well, I have an awful headache; I will lie down in the next room; if +she is worse, you can call me," and the cloud disappeared. + +Althea had been some time sleeping quietly, neither articulating nor +moaning. Dr. Hardy watched her as only doctors watch their patients. It +was more to him than a question of life and death--it was somewhat like +the alchemist, trembling with hope and fear over his costly dissolvents. + +At length, Althea's eyes opened, glanced hastily around and closed +again. Dr. Hardy was not surprised. For the last half hour he had been +expecting this, but he had given no sign. When her eyes again opened, he +put some drops to her lips, which she readily swallowed. By-and-bye she +gave a look of thorough consciousness, accompanied with an effort to +speak. + +Again, in an hour, she looked earnestly at Dr. Hardy, and moved her +lips. He bent low to listen, and only himself caught her words: "Send +for the priest." + +Dr. Hardy frowned. Was this old anxiety going yet to ruin all? Couldn't +she die or live without the priest? + +"You are going to get well now," he whispered in reply. + +"Send for Father Ryan, for God's sake," she again repeated, so forcibly +that Kitty caught the words. + +"I will go for him," she said eagerly, but the doctor interfered. + +"No, I will see Mr. Rush;" for the anger of that man and his future +hostility was not a pleasing prospective to the easy-going doctor, ever +ready to propitiate. + +Mr. Rush was like a lion, aroused from his sleep, in which he had found +temporary oblivion of a torturing headache. + +The doctor's words were not audible in the sick room, but Kitty +distinctly heard the reply of Thornton Rush: + +"I tell you I don't care. I don't believe it will make the least +difference. If she has a mind to worry, let her worry; I won't have a +Catholic priest in the house. I'll have the devil first. If she is going +to live, she will live, anyhow. I have never thought she would die yet. +For God's sake, let me alone, and don't waken me again, no matter what +happens." + +The doctor returned with lugubrious visage. But Kitty's was radiant. + +She was seized with a thought or an inspiration, and she whispered: + +"I will take all the blame upon myself; he cannot more than kill me. It +is a good time--he has left orders to be let alone. The priest can come +and go before he knows it," and she darted out without another word. + +The doctor and Mrs. Moffat looked smilingly across at each other in the +faint lamp-light, but neither made a movement for Kitty's detention. As +the faithful girl had said, "the priest came and went" before the master +knew anything about it. And Althea, having passed through her earthly +purgatory, and now hovering, as she thought, upon the borders of death, +had been baptized by water into newness of life, and been strengthened +by that heavenly food, which is more and diviner than the bread of +angels. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII. + +MYSTERIOUS DISAPPEARANCE. + + +Althea was very weak, but continued slowly to recover. Several days +elapsed, during which time Thornton's pain in the head had been upon the +increase, and other alarming symptoms had been developed. These were +intensely strengthened by the imprudence of a meddlesome neighbor. + +Curtis Coe was Windsor's merchant tailor. He may have been more than the +ninth part of a man in some respects; but when, under pretence of a +friendly call, he informed Thornton Rush, already very sick, that the +priest, Father Ryan, had baptized Althea--we say, when he did this +intentionally and with malice aforethought, and with a sinful love of +tale-bearing, and with utter recklessness as to consequences, he proved +himself infinitely less, even than ordinary tailors of the proverbial +size. He deserved the punishment of being hissed by his own goose. + +The effect of this ill-advised news upon Thornton can be better imagined +than described. What increased it ten-fold was the man's utter impotence +to resent or punish what had been done. His ravings were fearful, his +imprecations multiplied. Vain were the doctor's warnings that his anger +would aggravate his disease. He continued to rave until he became +unconscious of the words he uttered. To all in the house it was a relief +when this man passed into unconscious delirium. One can listen to insane +blasphemies with sorrow and pity; but only with horror and disgust to +revilings, and railings sanely spoken. + +On that night which followed Curtis Coe's wicked impertinence, two men +sat up with the sick man. They must both have fallen asleep at one and +the same time, for they discovered on coming to their senses, that +Thornton Rush was nowhere to be found. The lamp was burning, even the +fire in the stove had not died out. Having searched the room, they gave +the alarm, and thoroughly searched the house, then all the outhouses, +and finally the town. + +All classes, friend and foe, were aroused. A general panic prevailed. +Each one considered himself in danger, while Thornton Rush, as a +lunatic, was at large. Posters were sent abroad and telegrams announced +the mysterious disappearance to neighboring villages and cities. The +river was dragged, old cellars and wells were dived into. + +Windsor had at length a mystery, and it was an appalling one. People +began to canvass it in whisper. A suspicion began to be bruited around. +We do not affirm that Mrs. Moffat originated this suspicion, but she +whispered it about from house to house. It was to this strange effect, +the Catholics had formed a league and spirited away this enemy of their +faith. Kitty Brett had boldly set his words at defiance, and the priest +had boldly entered the house he had been forbidden, and baptized and +anointed, and practiced what other witcheries he had no business. + +If Kitty would do this much, and if Father Ryan would do that much, why, +what was there they would _not_ do? + +This view of the case accounted for the wise solemnity prevailing among +the Catholics generally. They were observed to purse up their mouths, +and shake their heads; and one old patriarch had been heard to say that +the Evil One had got his own. Why should he say that, if he did not know +something about it? + +It became another Morgan affair. Women began to turn off Catholic +servant girls. There was a strong talk of discharging every Irishman +from the Mills and Railroad. A continual espionage upon the movements of +the Catholics was kept up. Traps were laid for self-committal. Bribes +were offered and promises of security to any who would turn State's +evidence. Threats were made here and there that leading Catholics should +be arrested; at all events, the ringleader should be made to suffer. All +seemed to settle down upon that Father Ryan must necessarily have been +the aider and abettor, if not the suggestor, in such a high-handed +proceeding. It mattered not, that during his five years' stay at +Windsor, he had lived peaceably and orderly, and set a good example. All +that served but a cloak to just such deeds as this kidnapping of a +respectable citizen. + +This whirlwind of talk, however, amounted to nothing more. The Catholic +population was getting stronger every day; it was surprising how many +new families kept pouring in. So it happened no one dared lay hands on +Father Ryan. + +Autumn passed into winter, and winter merged into spring, still no trace +had been discovered of the missing man. + +Althea had entirely recovered the health and bloom of youth. She was +never more beautiful than now, at the still early age of twenty-two. She +had mourned for her husband only as for a soul that was lost. She +believed he must have perished in some strange way, and her daily prayer +was that the manner of his death might some time be brought to light. +The good God had snatched herself from the verge of the grave. He had +said unto her, through his servant, "wait, and trust in God," and God +had delivered her out of her troubles. She lived alone at Vine Cottage, +the faithful Kitty her servant and companion. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX. + +HUBERT'S SECOND VISIT. + + +In June, the month of roses, came Hubert Lisle to visit Althea. He came +thus early in her presumed widowhood, to woo her for his wife. But she +would not hear one word of love from his lips. She had studied her +religion, and found that its laws forbade marriage with another until +abundant proof had been obtained of the death of her husband. So far, +she had but proof presumptive. He had disappeared at such a time and in +such a state as, to most minds, forbade even a possibility that he +should have continued to exist. Again, the Catholic rule forbade the +marriage of cousins. + +Hubert urged to this that they were not strictly cousins. His father and +her mother were but half-brother and sister. + +Again, the Catholic Church did not forbid, but strongly discountenanced +the marriage of a Catholic with a Protestant. She, Althea, loved her +Church so well, she would not do that which the Church disapproved. + +These were three great obstacles in the way then, to his marriage with +Althea, Hubert found. He began to think he had now a more formidable +opponent in the Church than he had had in Thornton Rush. He had +succeeded in winning from Althea a promise to sue for a divorce. The +rest would be easy. But he found it impossible, with all his eloquence, +to prevail upon her to take one step contrary even to the wish of this +more tyrannical guardian. He even went to the priest. He had seen Father +Ryan at Mass, for, of course, he accompanied his cousin. He judged from +his open, honest face that it would be an easy matter to win him over to +his views. He entered upon the subject confidently, but ended very much +discomfited. Father Ryan would listen to but one point, which was that +Althea was not at liberty to entertain thoughts of marriage until +conclusive proof was obtained of her husband's death. Hubert reverting +to the other points--"All that comes afterward," was all the priest +would say. + +"But, supposing nothing more is ever heard of Thornton Rush, which is +almost certain, is Althea to live a widow to the end of her days?" +questioned Hubert incredulously. + +"Yes," replied the priest. "And allow me to intimate," he continued +gently, "that, entertaining the dispositions you do, it is improper you +should remain a guest at Vine Cottage. As a cousin you were privileged, +perhaps, according to your Protestant views, but as you are a suitor, it +is quite different." + +Having politely listened to these words of the priest, he wisely made up +his mind to take his leave, before he should hear them reiterated from +the lips of Althea. + +"Well, cousin," presenting himself before her, on returning from the +priest's, "I have had the courage, or the impudence, to consult Father +Ryan; he is as inexorable as yourself. It is astonishing with what an +iron will this Catholic faith infuses people. Last fall you promised to +marry me, although a thousand difficulties were to be overcome. Now, +that you are your own mistress, according to every human probability, +and you are at perfect liberty, free from any scruples about the right +and wrong of the thing, and yet--and yet how strange! You have scruples +more binding a hundred fold. And Father Ryan, the gentlest, quietest +person, whom you would not believe could say _no_, whom I made sure I +could prevail upon to intercede for me, is just as resolute as Napoleon, +as unyielding as Draco. What does it mean? Is it in the religion or +what?" + +"I believe, Hubert, it is the love of God in the heart. We love God +better than the world, or aught the world can offer. We love God so +well, that we fear to break His holy law," replied Althea. + +"But others love God too, who are not Catholics, but they are not so +inexorably bound." + +"They have not the restraints of the Church. They have not its laws to +govern them, its teachings to instruct, its pastors to guide and direct. +Moreover, they cannot expect heavenly graces in abundance who are out of +the true Church. Christ's promise of assistance is to His Church, His +anathema against those who will not hear it." + +"It looks to me as though you had taken upon yourself a yoke, and the +bonds of servitude," Hubert remarked disconsolately. + +"The bonds of the dear Lord Jesus, yes," and Althea's countenance glowed +with enthusiasm. + +"But Christian bonds should not press so heavily. Protestants in all +these things do as they please, yet they profess to be bound with the +same fetters." + +"Profess! what use in professing when every day they burst them asunder +as would they gossamer threads? I assure you, Hubert, that is one of the +beauties of the Catholic Church. Its laws are so binding, its teachings +so direct, its discipline so perfect, that one cannot stray away +blindly. The obedient child who would be pained not to do the Father's +will is kept in the straight and narrow way, the light is held steadily +before his eyes; if he stumble or turn aside he is brought back, and if +he become restive and the 'fetters,' grateful to the loving child, bind +too galling he throws them off, more willing to be lost than bear +self-denial for the present. For myself, Hubert, I have started for +heaven, confident of arriving if I follow the path marked out for me. If +I do not follow in that path I have no hope but of straying far from +that desired haven, the happy land of souls." + +"Althea, I believe you have never loved me," suddenly exclaimed Hubert, +steadily regarding his cousin. + +"That is a cruel assertion, and it wounds me more than you can think," +returned the lady, deeply moved. "Would I could forget that I ever loved +you! The memory recalls my sin, my shame, and, thank God, my +repentance. I deserve that you should recall all this to me, but I pray +you, if you have regard for me, never to refer to this again." + +"Forgive me, Althea, I did not intend thus to pain you. You are right +and I am wrong. While regretting, I honor you the more for the noble +stand you have taken. I go, Althea, and should I ever come again, you +shall behold me worthier, God willing. I shall think of you as resting +under the very shadow of heaven, and no ill, I am sure, will betide you. +Farewell, and God will help you." + + + + +CHAPTER XXX. + +"AND THE SEA SHALL GIVE UP ITS DEAD." + + +The summer at Windsor was an unprecedently hot one. No rain in July, no +rain in August, and September's sun was shining fiercely down upon +parched earth, dried up rivers, panting animals, and complaining men. +There would be no wheat, no corn; potatoes were dwarfed, and vegetables +literally dried and hardened. Grass would be light, and cattle would be +starved, if not first choked with thirst. The heavens were as brass, the +fiery atmosphere like that of a furnace. Was there about to be a general +conflagration, "when the earth and the heavens should be rolled together +as a scroll?" + +The great Mississippi was never so low. Inquiring urchins made +explorations up and down the dried banks with all the enthusiasm of +explorers of the Nile. Even the women of Windsor proposed a bold feat. +This was none other than in a body to ford the Mississippi. It would be +something worth telling of, when, after some flood, the river should +widen to the space of a mile. + +Accordingly, old calico wrappers were brought into requisition, and a +small army of women stood upon the shores. You might have thought from +the voices of fear, hesitation, reproach, and encouragement, another Red +Sea was before them, and behind them a Pharaoh's host. All the women of +Windsor were not engaged in this expedition. Some were milking cows, and +some were putting dear little children to sleep; some were preparing +late suppers for dilatory husbands, and not a few were gathered together +in knots, discussing the impropriety and scandal of such a bold +proceeding. + +Our heroine at Vine Cottage, entirely unaware of the movement, was +enjoying the twilight in playing soft airs upon the piano. + +To one uninformed, a pow-wow of Indians might have been supposed to be +going on. There were shrieks and wails, and screams of laughter, and +cries of terror. There were threatenings, scoldings, and coaxings. Were +all the grammars in the world made up of interjections they could +scarcely have contained the list that rent the air, between the two +Mississippi shores, upon that eventful night. The heavens were still +above, though they might have been supposed to have disappeared +entirely, so loudly and fervently were they invoked. + +"Why, it is enough to raise the dead," exclaimed a solitary traveler, a +stranger in town, perambulating a neighboring bluff. + +As the vociferating army neared the opposite shore, there was a +momentary silence; that breathless silence which precedes the storm. +Then uprose such a terrific scream, such a commingled shout of horror, +as only frightened women can give vent to. This brought men, women and +children in throngs to the scene. Some leaped into boats, some walked in +to the rescue. The majority awaited ashore the unfolding of events. + +Mrs. Sharp had caught her foot in something as she was about to ascend +the opposite bank. In attempting to save herself, she fell with her +hands upon the soggy substance that had intercepted her. She was a +thorough-going woman, and determined to ascertain what lay like a log in +her path, the water scarcely covering it. She prevailed upon two or +three to assist her in dragging it upward partially to the dim +light--when lo! within a saturated, slimy bed-comforter was a human +form! It was brought across to Windsor, officials summoned, and, despite +decomposition and fearful change, recognized to be the remains of +Thornton Rush! There was great sensation, and a faint revival of +whispers about his having been spirited away to his death by Popish +emissaries; but these soon died, for want of breath, as the Irishman +would say. + +The death of Mr. Rush was, by the majority, accounted for naturally. In +his delirium he had strayed he knew not whither. He had grasped the +heavy quilt tightly around him, which, held firmer in the clasp of the +dead, had filled with water, and prevented the body from rising. + +It seemed unaccountable that when the river was dragged it should not +have been discovered: are not mysteries, however, every day transpiring +before our eyes, about which we marvel in vain? + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI. + +CONCLUSION. + + +To-day, Althea is the happy wife of Hubert Lisle and the honored +mistress of Kennons, which is bright and beautiful again with sweet +woman's presence. + +Two obstacles to the union of Hubert and Althea had disappeared. She had +been proved to be matrimonially free, and he had become, from study and +conviction, a full believer in her faith, of which he made open +profession. The fact that they were cousins still remained. As there +were considerable delays in the consummation of the marriage, it was +doubtless owing to the smoothing away of this difficulty. And as both +parties hold the Holy Father in most grateful and loving remembrance, +and their most cherished design is to make him a visit at his prison in +the Vatican, it is probable that a dispensation from Rome severed the +last link of obstruction, and permitted Father Ryan, willingly at last, +to tie the Gordion Knot. + +Arriving at Kennons, Althea, of course, paid her respects to Mrs. Lisle +at Thornton Hall. She found her in a deplorable situation. A seated +cancer upon the face was eating away her life, as it had already +destroyed every vestige of her former beauty. + +She had great difficulty in prevailing upon servants to attend her. She +was so irritable and so offensive that even money could not purchase +aid. + +And what did Althea? Sacrificed every ill-feeling, overcame repulsion, +put up with taunts and cross words, and waited on Thornton Rush's mother +as if she had been her own. And this in the happy beginning of her +wedded life with Hubert Lisle. And what reward had she? None in this +life, save the consciousness of having struggled to overcome nature, to +render good for evil, and to perform that loving charity which our +Saviour commended in the Samaritan, and ever inculcates in His Church. + +Notwithstanding Althea's patient, persistent efforts, Rusha Lisle, +having hardened her heart, died in her sins. + +To Althea, who stood above her dying bed, she whispered hoarsely: + +"You have done all this for the sake of my property. I understood all. +You will find out I wasn't fooled up to the last. You couldn't cheat me +with your quiet, gentle ways; ha! ha!" and the wretched woman went out +in the night of death, comprehending not the sweet, Christian life of +such as Althea, but believing all natures dark and cruel as her own. It +was from her own she drew her judgment of another. + +She had bequeathed all her property to an idle cousin, whom it will but +accelerate in his downward course of idleness and dissipation. + +Arrangements had all been made for a visit to Europe, and particularly +to Rome, as soon as possible after Mrs. Lisle's death. Here, again, was +a disappointment. + +Letters were received from Turkey, from the hand of Althea's father. He +had lost his second wife, Emily Dean. He was about to sail for America, +and should bring his two youngest children, little girls, aged +respectively six and eight, whom he hoped Althea would make room for in +her new home. He was unable to embark as soon as was intended, and +arrived six weeks later than was designed. + +Philip St. Leger, then, arrived once more at Kennons. His hair was +silvery white. He was firm, erect, and still very fine looking. It was a +sad place, however, for the Missionary, who began to feel the world to +be receding from his grasp. + +He talked with Hubert, somewhat at length, upon the subject of his +religion. To Althea he made no allusion concerning it. He, doubtless, +judged her to have become as infatuated, and "wedded to her idols" as he +had found to be his sister, Juliet. He could not help from perceiving, +blind as he was, that there was a very great change for the better in +this same sister, whose folly and levity he well remembered. + +He soon returned to Turkey, accompanied by a third wife. This time, Mrs. +St. Leger was not a pupil from the famous seminary. Philip had acquired +wisdom, perhaps, with time, and was glad to take a maiden lady of forty +acknowledged years, who was a most amiable, warm-hearted woman by the +name of Snow, Lucy being her first name. Success to Philip and his bride +as they sail across the seas, nearing that grand sea that rolls around +all the world! Their own disappointments have met Hubert and Althea. But +these have no power to disturb their patience and serenity. They have +established schools for the whites and the blacks on their estate, and +are teaching the doctrines and practices of the new Faith. + +The cars run through Flat Rock. This point has become quite a town, and +a small Catholic church tells by its cross and altar that the true faith +hath found its way thither. To this church come Hubert and Althea, +Sundays and holidays. Maria and Frances, Althea's young sisters, come +with them; for it was only upon this condition that Hubert would receive +them. That Philip St. Leger should have consented to this, proves that a +change has come over him since a score of years. Kitty Brett is Althea's +faithful attendant. She chose to leave all her friends, rather than be +separated from the woman whose life she had helped to save. + +Amy and Chloe, old cronies, as they term themselves, look bright and +young again, along with Kennon's rejuvenation. They hold long discourses +over their pipes and snuff about the past and present, their deepest +regret being that Master Duncan could not have lived to see this +realization of his dearest wishes. + +Every Sunday they go and sprinkle his grave and that of Ellice with holy +water. They kneel by the cross which Hubert and Althea have planted, +and, folding piously their homely hands, thank God for the return of the +one, the gift of the other, and for the Cross, and the Light, and the +Crown they have brought with them to dear old Kennons. + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HUBERT'S WIFE*** + + +******* This file should be named 21949-8.txt or 21949-8.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/1/9/4/21949 + + + +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 <a href = "http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre> +<p>Title: Hubert's Wife</p> +<p> A Story for You</p> +<p>Author: Minnie Mary Lee</p> +<p>Release Date: June 27, 2007 [eBook #21949]</p> +<p>Language: English</p> +<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p> +<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HUBERT'S WIFE***</p> +<p> </p> +<h3 class="pg">E-text prepared by Roger Frank<br /> + and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br /> + (http://www.pgdp.net)</h3> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + +<table style="margin: auto; border: black 1px solid; width: 400px;" summary=""><tr><td> +<p class="titlepage" style="font-size: 200%; margin-top:40px; margin-bottom:50px;">HUBERT'S WIFE:</p> +<p class="titlepage" style="font-size: 140%; margin-bottom:50px;">A STORY FOR YOU.</p> +<p class="titlepage" style="font-size: 80%; margin-bottom:40px;">BY</p> +<p class="titlepage" style="font-size: 140%; margin-bottom:50px;">MINNIE MARY LEE.</p> +<p class="titlepage" style="font-size: 80%;">"There is a way which seemeth just to a man, but the end</p> +<p class="titlepage" style="font-size: 80%; margin-bottom:50px;">thereof leadeth unto death."—<i>Prov.</i> xlv, 12.</p> +<p class="titlepage" style="font-size: 80%;">BALTIMORE:</p> +<p class="titlepage" style="font-size: 100%;">PUBLISHED BY JOHN B. PIET</p> +<p class="titlepage" style="font-size: 80%; margin-bottom:40px;"><span class='smcap'>Late Kelly, Piet & Co.</span></p> +</td></tr></table> + +<hr class='major' /> + +<p style='text-align: center; font-size: 80%;'> +Entered, according to an act of Congress, in the year 1873, by<br /> +KELLY, PIET & COMPANY,<br /> +in the office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington, D. C.<br /> +</p> + +<hr class='major' /> + +<h2 class="toc"><a name="Contents" id="Contents"></a>Contents</h2> + +<table border="0" width="500" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary="Contents" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; font-size: smaller;"> +<col style="width:15%;" /> +<col style="width:5%;" /> +<col style="width:70%;" /> +<col style="width:10%;" /> +<tr> + <td align="right">I.</td> + <td></td> + <td align="left">A Black Conference.</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#A_BLACK_CONFERENCE_63">1</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right">II.</td> + <td></td> + <td align="left">The Master's Conference with Himself.</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#THE_MASTERS_CONFERENCE_WITH_HIMSELF_219">7</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right">III.</td> + <td></td> + <td align="left">An Interruption to Duncan'S Reverie.</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#AN_INTERRUPTION_TO_DUNCANS_REVERIE_373">13</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right">IV.</td> + <td></td> + <td align="left">Philip St. Leger.</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#PHILIP_ST_LEGER_547">19</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right">V.</td> + <td></td> + <td align="left">The Missionary's Retrospect.</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#THE_MISSIONARYS_RETROSPECT_868">30</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right">VI.</td> + <td></td> + <td align="left">Missionary Life.</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#MISSIONARY_LIFE_1056">37</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right">VII.</td> + <td></td> + <td align="left">The Distinguished Traveler's Views.</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#THE_DISTINGUISHED_TRAVELERS_VIEWS_1273">45</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right">VIII.</td> + <td></td> + <td align="left">The Visitation by Spirit And By Death.</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#THE_VISITATION_BY_SPIRIT_AND_BY_DEATH_1461">52</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right">IX.</td> + <td></td> + <td align="left">The New Choice.</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#THE_NEW_CHOICE_1695">60</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right">X.</td> + <td></td> + <td align="left">"A Dream which was not all a Dream."</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#A_DREAM_WHICH_WAS_NOT_ALL_A_DREAM_2017">71</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right">XI.</td> + <td></td> + <td align="left">Althea's Guardians.</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#ALTHEAS_GUARDIANS_2168">77</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right">XII.</td> + <td></td> + <td align="left">The Christening.</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#THE_CHRISTENING_2485">88</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right">XIII.</td> + <td></td> + <td align="left">New Mistress at Kennons.</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#NEW_MISTRESS_AT_KENNONS_2818">99</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right">XIV.</td> + <td></td> + <td align="left">China—Uncle Mat's Prayer Meeting.</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#CHINA_UNCLE_MATS_PRAYER_MEETING_3109">109</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right">XV.</td> + <td></td> + <td align="left">Kizzie.</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#KIZZIE_3354">118</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right">XVI.</td> + <td></td> + <td align="left">Time and Change.</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#TIME_AND_CHANGE_3560">126</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right">XVII.</td> + <td></td> + <td align="left">The St. Legers.</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#THE_ST_LEGERS_3859">137</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right">XVIII.</td> + <td></td> + <td align="left">St. Mark's or St. Patrick's?</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#ST_MARKS_OR_ST_PATRICKS_4073">145</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right">XIX.</td> + <td></td> + <td align="left">"In such an hour as ye think not."</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#IN_SUCH_AN_HOUR_AS_YE_THINK_NOT_4312">154</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right">XX.</td> + <td></td> + <td align="left">Juliet.</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#JULIET_4617">164</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right">XXI.</td> + <td></td> + <td align="left">"The Spider and the Fly."</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#THE_SPIDER_AND_THE_FLY_4826">172</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right">XXII.</td> + <td></td> + <td align="left">Althea.</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#ALTHEA_5132">183</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right">XXIII.</td> + <td></td> + <td align="left">Hubert Lisle at Vine Cottage.</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#HUBERT_LISLE_AT_VINE_COTTAGE_5394">193</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right">XXIV.</td> + <td></td> + <td align="left">Jealousy.</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#JEALOUSY_5614">201</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right">XXV.</td> + <td></td> + <td align="left">The Awakening.</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#THE_AWAKENING_5791">208</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right">XXVI.</td> + <td></td> + <td align="left">Light After Darkness.</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#LIGHT_AFTER_DARKNESS_5913">213</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right">XXVII.</td> + <td></td> + <td align="left">Althea'S Trials.</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#ALTHEAS_TRIALS_6122">221</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right">XXVIII.</td> + <td></td> + <td align="left">Mysterious Disappearance.</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#MYSTERIOUS_DISAPPEARANCE_6401">231</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right">XXIX.</td> + <td></td> + <td align="left">Hubert's Second Visit.</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#HUBERTS_SECOND_VISIT_6497">235</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right">XXX.</td> + <td></td> + <td align="left">"And The Sea Shall Give Up Its Dead."</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#AND_THE_SEA_SHALL_GIVE_UP_ITS_DEAD_6619">240</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align="right">XXXI.</td> + <td></td> + <td align="left">Conclusion.</td> + <td align="right"><a href="#CONCLUSION_6699">243</a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style="margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em"> +<a class="pagenum" name="page_1" id="page_1" title="1"></a> +<a name="A_BLACK_CONFERENCE_63" id="A_BLACK_CONFERENCE_63"></a> +<h2>CHAPTER I.</h2> +<h3>A BLACK CONFERENCE.</h3> +</div> + +<p>It was the night after the funeral. Ellice Lisle, the loving wife, +devoted mother, kind mistress, and generous friend, had been laid away +to rest; over her pulseless bosom had been thrown the red earth of her +adopted Virginia, and, mingled with its mocking freshness, was the +bitter rain of tears from the eyes of all who had known the lowly +sleeper. Even Nature joined the general weeping; for, though the early +morning had been bright and beautiful, ere the mourners' feet had left +the new-made grave, the skies had lowered, and a gentle rain descended.</p> + +<p>"<i>You</i> have pity upon me, O Heaven, and you weep for me, O earth," had +exclaimed Duncan Stuart Lisle, as, leading his little Hubert by the +hand, he turned away from his lost Ellice.</p> + +<p>As night deepened, the rain increased, and the darkness became intense. +The house-servants, timid and superstitious, had all congregated in Aunt +Amy's cabin. Amidst their grief, sincere and profound, was yet a subject +of indignation, which acted as a sort of safety-valve to their over-much +sorrowing.</p> + +<p>"A nice, pretty piece of impudence it was, to be sure,<a class="pagenum" name="page_2" id="page_2" title="2"></a> when she hadn't +been in the house for five year, to 'trude herself the minute Miss +Ellice's breath had left her precious body, the poor dear!" ejaculated +Chloe, the cook, who was intensely black, and fat to immensity.</p> + +<p>"Much as ever Massa Duncan 'peared to notice her, not'standing she make +herself so 'ficious," said Amy, who looked more the Indian than African.</p> + +<p>"He never set eyes on her but once," said young China, the favorite +housemaid, whose dialect and manners were superior to those of the other +servants, "only just once, and that was when she looked at him so long +and fierce-like he couldn't actually keep his eyes down."</p> + +<p>"I see it my own self," added Chloe, whose small orbs were almost buried +beneath overhanging cliffs of brow and uprising mountains of cheek, "and +I'll tell you what I tinks: I tinks just den and dere, dat if we's meet +de ole one hisself he wouldn't hab no eyes, cause Misses Rusha Rush jes +done gone an' stole 'em."</p> + +<p>This dark reference caused a closer grouping of the sable dames and +damsels. Trembling hands drew small plaid shawls closer about the +shoulders, while one bolder than the rest cast a huge pine-knot upon the +glowing coals.</p> + +<p>Amy was first to break the brief silence.</p> + +<p>"Mighty pity Jude Rush ever fell off 'Big Thunderbolt' and broke his +slim neck! But Massa Duncan knew nuf once to let Miss Rusha 'lone; he's +not gwine to be 'veigled by none o' her hilofical airs—you may 'pend on +dat; 'specially when he's had dat sweet saint all to hisself now dese so +many year—no, neber."</p> + +<p>And Amy reiterated this over and over, as if to kill<a class="pagenum" name="page_3" id="page_3" title="3"></a> the secret thought +which haunted her against her will.</p> + +<p>"She persume to come here and order you dis way an' I dat way, an' all +us all 'round ebry which way—oo—but I gived her a piece o' my mind," +spake Margery, the weaver, very irate.</p> + +<p>"Umph! I never seed ye speak to her," said Amy, doubtingly.</p> + +<p>"Not wid my tongue, mind ye. I knows better den dat. But I jes spit fire +at her out of my eyes."</p> + +<p>"Fire neber burn Miss Rusha; she too ugly for dat. S'pose fire burn de +ole Nick? Den he be done dead and gone, which ain't so; derefore nuthin' +ever fall Miss Rusha; she never sick, nor die, nor drown, nor burn up. +Miss Ellice she sick, she die, 'cause she be an angel; she go home to +glory; but Miss Rusha she live, jes to trouble white folks, jes to +torment niggers."</p> + +<p>Wrathful Amy, as she said this, glanced triumphantly at Margery, who was +about to speak, when Chloe took the floor, figuratively.</p> + +<p>"Tank de Lord, we ain't de niggers what she's got to torment; and she +needn't be setting her cap for our own good Massa Duncan; she may jes +hang up high her fiddle on de willows o' Bab'lon; she sit down an' weep +on de streams; she neber hab good Massa Duncan; neber while de trees on +Kennons grow and de stars 'bove Kennons shine."</p> + +<p>Kennons was the name of the Lisle plantation.</p> + +<p>"She'd like to jine the two plantations. One is too little for her to +rule. She's allus wanted our south 'bacco patch. Her hundred niggers and +Massa's hundred would make a crew. O, she's a shrewd one; she<a class="pagenum" name="page_4" id="page_4" title="4"></a> sees +further than her nose. She'd make my shettle fly fast as Aunt Kizzie's."</p> + +<p>"Somebody ought to make your shuttle fly faster than is its habit, +Margery," returned China, usually quiet and gentle. "But what if you are +all mistaken, and Mistress Rush has no idea of making a rush upon +Kennons and our good master."</p> + +<p>"O, you poor innocent," quoth Chloe and Amy at the same time. "Haven't +we eyes? What's they for if not to see with? They ain't in the backs of +our heads neither. We've got ears too; we don't hear with our elbows. +What for did she bring nice things and pretties for Hubert? and what for +did she take such a wonderful interest in de poor baby? Bress us, is de +baby wake or sleep, or what is come of it? We's all forgettin' de dear +precious objec. Sakes alive, an' its nearly smuddered in its soft +blankets, worked so beau'fully wid its own moder's hand."</p> + +<p>A sleeping-powder, administered to the three days' old infant had, for a +time, quieted its incessant cries. This sudden mention brought every +dark face to bend low over the cradle, which Bessie, the nurse, had +brought hither from the house, that she might share the gossip of her +companions.</p> + +<p>Worn out with weeping and watching, Bessie lay prone and sleeping upon +the floor at the cradle's side. Satisfied that the baby still breathed, +Chloe, Amy, Margery, China and Dinah settled back into their seats, like +so many crows upon a branch.</p> + +<p>Dinah, the last-named, had been thus far fast asleep; and provoked with +herself that she had lost a share of<a class="pagenum" name="page_5" id="page_5" title="5"></a> the gossip, she gave Bessie a +vigorous push with her foot as she passed her, not through charity, nor +yet through malice, but through a sudden spasm of ill-nature.</p> + +<p>Bessie gave a groan and sat up. She gazed around wildly—slowly +comprehended the scene, the present, the past, and, with another groan, +flung herself upon the floor again.</p> + +<p>"You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Dinah, to disturb Bessie in that +way," said China, between whom and Bessie was a warm friendship. "She +has cried so, and broken her heart."</p> + +<p>"She needn't be in people's way, then—who's going 'round Robinhood's +barn for sake o' likes o' her?" said Dinah, complainingly.</p> + +<p>"Shut your mouth, black Dinah," cried Amy authoritatively. "Ye's a +pretty one to knock around a sleepin' nigger. You's been asleep yourself +the last hour. S'pose we'd all been like you—you'd been kicked into a +heap—but we ain't—and you never <i>did</i> have a drop o' human kindness."</p> + +<p>"O, go 'way wid your quarreling. Dinah is jis like a firebran'; let her +'lone. What she got to do wid dis subjec-matter in han', I like a-know?" +queried Aunt Chloe, swaying up to the mantle, filling her pipe with +tobacco, and adding thereto the smallest glowing coal upon the hearth. +Meantime, while she is preparing for a smoke, her companions have taken +from their pockets, each a tin snuff-box and a mop, which mop consists +of a small twig, chewed at the end into threads or fibers. This mop, wet +with saliva, is thrust into the<a class="pagenum" name="page_6" id="page_6" title="6"></a> box of Scotch snuff, thence thrust into +the mouth, and worked around upon the teeth much to the delight and +constant spitting of the performer. This operation, so prevalent both +among white and black women of the South, is called "<i>dipping</i> snuff."</p> + +<p>Having followed our sable friends from grief to indignation, and from +indignation to the charming amusement of snuff-dipping, we will enter +the house and make acquaintance with its master.</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style="margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em"> +<a class="pagenum" name="page_7" id="page_7" title="7"></a> +<a name="THE_MASTERS_CONFERENCE_WITH_HIMSELF_219" id="THE_MASTERS_CONFERENCE_WITH_HIMSELF_219"></a> +<h2>CHAPTER II.</h2> +<h3>THE MASTER'S CONFERENCE WITH HIMSELF.</h3> +</div> + +<p>It was late in September, and chilly for the season. A bright fire +glowed upon the hearth in the "lady's chamber" at Kennons. Red curtains +shaded the windows, and drooped in folds to the floor. Roses and green +leaves seemed springing up out of the carpet to meet the light and +warmth that radiated from the small semicircle behind the glittering +fender. A bed hung with white curtains, a dressing bureau, with its +fancy pincushion, and numerous cut-glass bottles of perfumery, a lounge +covered with bright patchwork, and furnished with log-cabin cushions, +easy-chairs and ottomans, together with the workstand and its +inseparable little basket filled with every indispensable for +needlework—all, all bore the trace of woman's hand.</p> + +<p>For nine years this had been the loved family-room of Duncan and Ellice +Lisle.</p> + +<p>Now, Ellice was forever gone. Her foot had passed the threshold, to come +in, to go out, no more. Her canary hung in the window; how could he sing +on the morrow, missing <i>her</i> accustomed voice? Her picture hung over the +mantle, looking down with the old-time<a class="pagenum" name="page_8" id="page_8" title="8"></a> brightness upon the the solitary +figures beforefire—Duncan and his child.</p> + +<p>Hubert, the son, in his eighth year, sitting clasped in his father's +arms, had pierced anew that tortured heart by asking questions about his +mother and the mystery of death, which no human mind can answer. The +child was in a vortex of wonder, grief and speculation. It was the first +great lesson of his life, and he would learn it well, the more that it +was so severe and incomprehensible. But sleep and fatigue overcame +Hubert at length. The light from the fire no more danced with his +shifting curls, but settled down in a steady golden glow over the mass +that mingled its yellow-brown with the black beard of the stricken man. +For the father would not lay away his sleeping child. He held him close, +as the something, the all that was left to him of his lost love. His +head drooped low and his lips rested in a long embrace of the child's +soft wealth of hair.</p> + +<p>Mayhap some watching spirit took pity upon the man bereaved; for while +he gazed into the fire, the heavy pressure of the present yielded to a +half-conscious memory of the past, and a dream-like reverie brightened +and darkened, flickered and burned in and out with the red of the flame, +and the white of the ashes.</p> + +<p>Duncan Lisle was a boy again. With two little brothers and a half-dozen +black child-retainers, he hunted in the woods of Kennons, sailed boats +on the red waters of the Roanoke, rode break-neck races over the old +fields, despising fences high, and ditches deep, and vigorously sought +specimens of uncouth, out-of-the-way<a class="pagenum" name="page_9" id="page_9" title="9"></a> beast, bird and insect. He studied +mathematics and classics, played pranks upon one tutor, and did loving +reverence to another. He planted flowers upon his own mother's grave, +and filled the vases of his stepmother with her own favorite lilacs and +roses. He made houses, carriages, swings, sets of furniture, and all +sorts of constructions for his half-sister Della, who was his junior by +ten years at least.</p> + +<p>He edified, not to say terrified, the dusky crowd of juveniles with +jack-o'-lanterns, impromptu giants and brigands, false faces, fire +crackers, ventriloquism and sleight-of-hand performances.</p> + +<p>With a decided propensity for fun and mischief, there was also in his +disposition as evident a proclivity to seriousness and earnestness. If +it gave him delight to play off upon a stranger the joke of "bagging the +game," he enjoyed with equal ardor the correct rendering of a difficult +translation, or the solution of an intricate problem.</p> + +<p>If sometimes he annoyed with his untimely jest, he always won by his +manly openness and uniform kindliness of nature. He cherished love for +all that was around him, both animate and lifeless. Soul and Nature +therefore rendered back to him their meed of harmonious sympathy.</p> + +<p>Duncan was scarcely seventeen when the Plague swept over Kennons. That +mysterious blight, rising in the orient, traveling darkly and surely +unto the remotest West, laid its blackened hand upon the fair House of +Kennons.</p> + +<p>Cholera! fearful by name and by nature, it was not<a class="pagenum" name="page_10" id="page_10" title="10"></a> so strange that thy +skeleton fingers should clutch at the myriad-headed city, situate by +river and by sea, but thou wert insatiable! Proud dwellings and lowly +cots in green fields and midst waving woods thou didst not spare; for +thy victim, the human form, was there.</p> + +<p>In the middle of August, the skies shone over Kennons happy and fair. +Some cousins came down from the city seeking safety—bringing, alas, +suffering and death!</p> + +<p>In one little month, how fearful a change!</p> + +<p>Duncan Lisle, sitting before the fire on this sad rainy evening, after +the lapse of twenty years, shudders as he recalls the blackened pall +that seemed spread over earth and air.</p> + +<p>Strange to say, the disease prevailed least amongst the frightened +servants.</p> + +<p>The hundred were perhaps decimated.</p> + +<p>In the house only Duncan and his half-sister Della survived; they in +fact escaped the contagion. The father, a strong, healthy man, struggled +bravely with the fierce attack; he even rallied, until there was good +hope of his recovery. But a sudden relapse bore him swiftly beyond +mortal remedy. Duncan, in his reverie, closes his eyes, to shut out the +fearful memory. He glides over his college years and his sister's course +at school. He sees Jerusha Thornton in her youth and pride and beauty. +She waves off the many suitors in her train, only to smile winsomely at +the young master of Kennons. Her estate is equal to, and adjoins his +own. He has known her from her childhood—he loves no other—and still +he loves not her. He revolves the<a class="pagenum" name="page_11" id="page_11" title="11"></a> reason of this in his own mind. She +has beauty, wealth, accomplishments. He gives no credence to rumors of +her cruelty to servants, though aware of her haughtiness to all, and her +disdain to inferiors. The high favor which she showed to him would be +welcomed with joy by at least a half-dozen of his acquaintance. But +this, her manifest preference, did not please Duncan Lisle—there might +be no accounting for it, but it was a fact.</p> + +<p>What was to be done? Kennons needed sadly a woman at its head. Its +master had come to be nearly twenty-eight, and not married yet!</p> + +<p>The servants were in a state of terrified suspense, lest he <i>should</i> +bring Miss Rusha as their mistress. They wished their master to +marry—they would dance for joy—but it must be some other young lady +than the heiress of Thornton Hall.</p> + +<p>Delia had been to a Northern school nearly five years; she would soon be +eighteen, and was about to graduate.</p> + +<p>As very young girls, Della and Rusha had known each other. For many +years, however, having been at different schools they had rarely met.</p> + +<p>Duncan held a faint impression that his half-sister had never been at +all partial to this near neighbor of his. She was coming home so soon, +he had such confidence in her judgment and womanly intuitions, he would +await her coming, and see if she could divine why it was that while he +<i>would</i> be attracted to Rusha Thornton he could not.</p> + +<p>Besides, Della was not returning home alone. Ellice Linwood had been for +five years her most intimate<a class="pagenum" name="page_12" id="page_12" title="12"></a> chosen friend, and room-mate. Ellice was +the only child of a widowed Presbyterian clergyman. Her father had spent +all he had to bestow upon her, in her education. This being thorough and +complete, in the way such terms are used, she was henceforth to support +herself by teaching.</p> + +<p>In order to avoid a deplorable separation, these two young friends had +put their wits together, and lo, the result! Through Della's good +brother Duncan, a situation had been secured for Ellice in the family of +Col. Anderson, not over six miles from Kennons. They would speedily +become excellent equestrians, these friends, and annihilate the narrow +space every day in the year.</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style="margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em"> +<a class="pagenum" name="page_13" id="page_13" title="13"></a> +<a name="AN_INTERRUPTION_TO_DUNCANS_REVERIE_373" id="AN_INTERRUPTION_TO_DUNCANS_REVERIE_373"></a> +<h2>CHAPTER III.</h2> +<h3>AN INTERRUPTION TO DUNCAN'S REVERIE.</h3> +</div> + +<p>Duncan Lisle, still gazing vacantly into the varying flames, performed +anew the journey, not from Kennons to Troy on the Hudson, but from the +latter city, via New York, back to his Virginian plantation. His sister +and Ellice Linwood were his companions, for it had been arranged that, +though Ellice's session of school was not to commence for a couple of +months, yet she should thus early undertake the journey for sake of the +company; and Della's home was to be hers also in the intervening time.</p> + +<p>Della and Ellice! They flitted hither and thither before Duncan's mental +vision, as they had on that memorable journey. Just free from the +irksome restraints of the school-room, full of joyous anticipations, +they gave way to that girlish gayety, and that unbounded enthusiasm, +which a thorough sense of happiness and enjoyment cannot fail to +inspire. Life was before them beautiful, glorious, and without end! This +was only nine years ago—and now!</p> + +<p>As we look through Duncan's eyes, we see that Della was the taller and +more graceful of the two. Her hair and complexion were rather dark than +fair; long, dark<a class="pagenum" name="page_14" id="page_14" title="14"></a> eyelashes shaded eyes deep blue, dreamy and wondrous +in expression. We never mind much a nose, unless it be ugly to a +deformity, or a model for the sculptor. An Angelo would have thrilled at +sight of Della's nose, and straightway wrought it into immortality, +<i>alto relievo</i>. Her mouth and chin were as lovely and divinely rounded +as any Madonna's. The shape of her head was superb; and she wore her +hair, which was truly a glory in itself, somewhat like a crown, which +left her finely curved ear liberty to show itself and to hear everything +that was going on. Many would have rhapsodised over her lithe, slender +form. Not we. More admirable that faithful approach to those olden +models of the human form that exist in artists' studios and adorn grand +rooms of princely connoisseurs.</p> + +<p>Nature is everywhere lovely. Had the ancient Greeks chiselled but the +wasp waists of our modern belles, their hideous works would have sunk +into oblivion in as little time as our self-made martyrs drop into early +graves.</p> + +<p>Not saying that Della Lisle, whose waist you could <i>not</i> "span with your +two hands," had foolishly contributed to make less its natural size, but +it was painfully suggestive of weakened lungs and an early translation.</p> + +<p>Ellice, on the contrary, possessed a low, plump figure, all curve and +dimple, with no appearance of angularity or stiffness. She had a fair, +round face, cheeks in which roses came and went, laughing blue eyes, a +wide, low brow, auburn curls, nose not <i>retroussé</i>, but the least bit +inclined that way, white teeth, somewhat large, but pretty, that really +<i>did</i> look like pearls between such cherry-red lips.<a class="pagenum" name="page_15" id="page_15" title="15"></a></p> + +<p>You might stand in respect and admiration before the dignified and +intellectual Della Lisle; but Ellice Linwood you would take to your +heart. If you were gay, she would laugh with you; if serious, she would +become pensive; if sick, she would soothe and comfort you.</p> + +<p>She was the most unselfish creature in existence. Self-denial ceased to +become such to her; her happiness was in yours alone.</p> + +<p>All things about the plantation brightened in presence of these two +young maidens. Old servants grew more youthful, the young wiser and +happier, and all, from black to brown, from young to old, as they looked +upon the bright face of the northern stranger, turned dreamer and +prophet. And this is what they dreamed and wished and foretold: that +Master Duncan would make Ellice his wife and keep her forever.</p> + +<p>And Duncan? Well, while such a spirit of prophecy reigned all around +him, it is not to be supposed that it fell not on him also. He thought +no more of seeking from his wise sister the solution of his antipathy to +Miss Thornton. There was no room in his mind now for aught outside his +home.</p> + +<p>In three weeks he asked Ellice to be his wife. The same day he +dispatched a letter to the Principal of the Troy Ladies' Seminary, +soliciting a teacher for Colonel Anderson; another message, also, to the +father of his affianced, begging him to come down at once and perform +the marriage ceremony for his daughter.</p> + +<p>This was doing up business very expeditiously. Of course it was soon +noised near and far, that great quantities of snow-white cake were being +made at Kennons<a class="pagenum" name="page_16" id="page_16" title="16"></a> kitchen. Servants would talk; little pitchers had ears, +and birds carried news.</p> + +<p>Miss Thornton went in state to call upon the strangers. She saw at a +glance how matters stood, or were going to stand. She could have torn +out Ellice's happy heart. As it was, she bowed to all haughtily as a +queen, casting her last contemptuous glance at Miss Linwood's face.</p> + +<p>Miss Thornton ordered to be driven rapidly homeward; and, as she was +whirled along, her thoughts, in a swifter whirl, she meditated and +resolved.</p> + +<p>Before the bewildered clergyman could make his way down from the North, +before the goddess of Rumor herself had even suspected such a thing, +Miss Thornton's whole retinue of suitors, and the people at large were +electrified by the astounding intelligence that Mr. Harris, from Flat +Rock, had been summoned to Thornton Hall to unite in marriage its +beautiful mistress, Miss Jerusha Thornton, to Doctor Jude Rush!</p> + +<p>Dr. Jude Rush had the year previously emigrated to Mecklenburg county +from the State of Maine. There was about him nothing so extraordinary as +to require particular description. He was an ordinary country doctor, +about thirty in years, had sandy hair, was sandy complexioned, and wore +sandy clothes. This is not much to our taste, but then we did not marry +him. We will assert, however, that had we been Madam Jerusha Thornton +Rush, our first business would have been to engage him a black suit at +the tailor's; but not a bottle of hair dye. We believe in adhering to +nature, though insisting that nature can be much assisted, particularly +in the matter of dress.<a class="pagenum" name="page_17" id="page_17" title="17"></a></p> + +<p>Duncan Lisle had naught for which to reproach himself. He had never made +love to Miss Thornton, or given her reason for believing himself +otherwise than indifferent. It had, however, been to him a source of +uneasiness, this very knowledge of her unmistakable partiality for him. +Of this he was quite relieved at news of her marriage, which news he +received, with a bountiful supply of bridal cake, as soon as possible +after the ceremony. He chewed his cake and sweet fancies of Ellice +together. A week later, Mrs. Rush threw <i>his</i> wedding cake to the dogs, +her own <i>bitter</i> fancies being sufficient for her to consume.</p> + +<p>Faithful memory is on a race to-night, and she hurries Duncan Lisle from +the beautiful picture of Ellice, his bride, over ground of a year or +two, to that other picture, no less dear, that of Ellice, the mother of +his child. The rose has paled a little in her cheek, but the love-light +is in her eye; and can he ever, ever forget how, though he never called +himself a Christian, his heart almost burst with thanksgiving to God +when he clasped in his arms his world, his all—wife and child!</p> + +<p>Three years from the other wedding, and another takes place at Kennons. +Philip St. Leger has finished his course at Princeton, and come to take +away his long-promised bride. The first wedding had been altogether +joyous; this second was saddened and sorrowful. Della had become the +wife of a missionary, and was to go at once to New York, taking ship +thence to Turkey.</p> + +<p>The cruel separation had come then at length to the tried and true +friends; it might, nay, probably would, be forever in this world.</p> + +<p>In the light of memory, Duncan beholds his sister<a class="pagenum" name="page_18" id="page_18" title="18"></a> for the last time. +She is very dear to him, one only more dear. He turns to comfort Ellice; +but Ellice, brave, heroic, crushes down her grief to comfort him.</p> + +<p>With Della gone, the wife appears alone in the succeeding years. Alone, +but ever bright and shining, whether amid her ebony domestics, or +enthroned as wife and mother. Patient, cheerful, wise, and kind.</p> + +<p>O, Ellice Lisle! model of all womanly virtues! Shall a Cady Stanton +preach to such as thou? How wide with wonder and dismay would open those +frank blue eyes at windy declamations about woman's rights, woman's +freedom, and man's tyranny.</p> + +<p>Woman voluntarily assumes the <i>chains</i> of matrimony. Be they of iron or +of silk, the good wife discovereth not; for it is only in an unholy +struggle that they bind and fetter.</p> + +<p>Memory was hurrying Duncan Lisle apace to-night; scenes in the last few +years shifted with surprising rapidity; everywhere Ellice was the +centre-piece, her fair, pleasant face beaming from its framework of +brown curls, that were almost ever in perpetual motion from the frequent +toss of the busy little head.</p> + +<p>But memory, though faithful, was pitiful, and kept presenting, one after +another, undarkened pictures, full of glow and sunshine; she had not +come down to the last three days of suspense and pain, of agony and +desolation. Ere that cruel curtain of gloom should shut from the +dreamer's eye his pleasant fancies, and with them the dying flames, the +loud barking of dogs, soon succeeded by hurried steps and voices, +aroused the half-conscious master of Kennons to the stern reality of the +present moment.</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style="margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em"> +<a class="pagenum" name="page_19" id="page_19" title="19"></a> +<a name="PHILIP_ST_LEGER_547" id="PHILIP_ST_LEGER_547"></a> +<h2>CHAPTER IV.</h2> +<h3>PHILIP ST. LEGER.</h3> +</div> + +<p>Duncan Lisle, at once thoroughly aroused, laid his sleeping child upon +the lounge, and then hastily opening the door, which led upon the +veranda, encountered the bronzed face and flashing eyes of his +brother-inlaw, Philip St. Leger. Now this gentleman from Turkey was not +a ghost, nor had he rained down. A staunch ship had brought him from +Constantinople to New York; a week he had spent with his friends at +Troy; the lightning express, then so-called, from the latter city to +Richmond; thence a stage had set him down at Flat-Rock; here, public +conveyance went no farther. The best and only means of transportation +was on horseback. The roads were in too wretched a condition for the +"Bald Eagle's" one rickety carriage to attempt to plough through.</p> + +<p>The returned missionary, almost distracted with care and fatigue, made a +virtue of necessity. With black Sam as guide, he set off amid the rain +and darkness for Kennons.</p> + +<p>"It were better," he said, mentally, "that I should myself remain until +the morning; but having come so far, so near, I should be on thorns; I +must go."<a class="pagenum" name="page_20" id="page_20" title="20"></a></p> + +<p>Philip St. Leger was not a Virginian by birth. He was a native of the +city at whose distinguished school Della Lisle had graduated. Only on +the day of graduation and at the time of her marriage had the brother +and husband of Della met.</p> + +<p>It was a sad meeting now, on this dreary night. These men, still in the +flush of manhood, clasped hands, and looked into each others' eyes, with +a despairing, inquiring eagerness.</p> + +<p>Their chill fingers were scarce unlocked when Duncan asked:</p> + +<p>"And did you come alone?"</p> + +<p>"I brought her child; but Della— I left her sleeping beneath the +shadow of the minarets."</p> + +<p>Duncan stamped his foot. His cup of sorrow had been full. He had quaffed +with what patience possible its bitter draughts, and still were they +poured in afresh.</p> + +<p>"I wrote you particulars of her death a year ago: I learned at Flat-Rock +that you never have received the mournful tidings. I learned also"—but +his voice trembled, and he could not go on.</p> + +<p>"Of the sudden death of my wife. Good God! it may as well be spoken. +Yes, she was to-day buried out of my sight."</p> + +<p>"O, my friend, speak not with such wildness."</p> + +<p>"But all is gone—all but dreary, wretched, useless life. O, what a +world!"</p> + +<p>"See here, my good brother," said the missionary, in a more cheerful +tone, "I have come a long journey; I am tired to death, wet through, +hungry, and cold."</p> + +<p>Before he had finished, Duncan's hand had rang the<a class="pagenum" name="page_21" id="page_21" title="21"></a> bell violently. His +right-hand man, Grandison, appeared. In a brief space of time, the fire +was replenished, dry clothes produced, a small table of refreshments +spread in the same cheery room, and the missionary, with commendable +zeal, proceeded to refresh the inner man.</p> + +<p>Duncan paced the floor in a desperate manner. The missionary paused +amidst his slices of cold chicken and ham, and thus addressed him:</p> + +<p>"My friend, I am greatly distressed for you, but that helps you nothing. +I have been through the same fiery trial; and I not only believed, but +wished I might not survive the ordeal. I would not eat nor sleep, but +grieved incessantly. It was so sudden, so unforeseen. Was it not +singular that Della and Ellice, loving each other so well, should have +gone so near each other and in the same way? That is hardest of all; +martyrs were they in a true sense. But I had a friend, who aroused, +warned, and induced me to eat, sleep, and go on with the duties of life. +After one first great effort it is easier. If one must suffer, he may +assuage his pain by bearing it bravely. The over-tending of a wound may +produce worst consequences. Exposure to the air, frequent ablutions, +occasional frictions, create healing processes, reduce sensitiveness, +and restore somewhat of the old life and vigor. I dare say you have not +eaten a mouthful to-day; come eat, drink with me. I will not preach you +a sermon, but let us philosophize like sensible men."</p> + +<p>Thus solicited, Duncan drew up his chair opposite his friend. With +evident disgust he swallowed the<a class="pagenum" name="page_22" id="page_22" title="22"></a> first mouthful, but this morsel seemed +to awaken appetite, and he made a respectable meal.</p> + +<p>Having thus broken his involuntary fast, he felt, in a sense, refreshed, +and producing some fine cigars, the friends sat down before the fire, +where, looking through the blue wreaths, they seemed to gain a soothing +and an inspiration. The missionary gave to his host a brief history of +his life with Della, of her sickness and death, and then incidentally +gave a sketch here and there of his own youth. We will commence where he +left off, giving but the substance in brief, instead of his own words, +so often interspersed with irrelevant allusions and interrupted by +remark and question.</p> + +<p>Philip St. Leger was the son of a sea captain. His youth, of course, he +spent mostly at school, its monotony varied more than once by a +prolonged voyage with his father at sea. His mother was a woman of +society, and left her children much to the care of servants. +Consequently, she had much trouble with them in after years. Philip was +the oldest child. He was naturally good-dispositioned and tractable; +but, owing to a false system of training, became headstrong and +altogether beyond maternal control.</p> + +<p>At the age of nineteen, after a wild and fruitless career at college, +and after repeated suspensions, he was really expelled near the +beginning of the senior year. To his parents this was a severe +mortification, and his father, being at that moment at home, sent him to +some distant cousins, who lived among the white hills of New Hampshire.</p> + +<p>Colonel Selby, in whose family Philip found himself<a class="pagenum" name="page_23" id="page_23" title="23"></a> domiciled, was a +fine specimen of the country gentleman. Genial, hospitable, full of wit +and anecdote, he was also a member of the Baptist Church, an ex-Senator +of the United States, and ex-Governor of his own State. His eldest son +was married, his youngest still in college, and his only daughter, about +the age of twenty-two, was still an almost idolized child beneath her +father's roof. The mother of these children had died a few years +previously, and a widow from the city had supplied her place in the +father's home and heart.</p> + +<p>Philip St. Leger, black-haired, black-eyed, melancholy and romantic in +look, cityfied and aristocratic in air and manner, attracted much +attention among the simple people of the quiet town of Newberg. He could +not help perceiving that, for the first time in his life, he had become +a veritable lion. The very fact that he was Col. Selby's guest and +relative gave to him importance; another fact, that he was the son of a +wealthy sea captain from a distant city, was all-powerful.</p> + +<p>It had indeed crept out somehow that he had been wild and extravagant, +that he had been sent to rusticate among rocks and hills so sterile +there would be little chance for his wild acts to take root; but then, +to some old ladies and young ones too, this rumor lent but additional +interest.</p> + +<p>"Poor boy! what else could one expect? With such comeliness of person, +endless wealth, unlimited advantages—the only wonder was he was not +completely ruined." And he was compassionated and pitied for being +obliged to remain in so old-fashioned and out-of-the-way country town as +insignificant Newberg.<a class="pagenum" name="page_24" id="page_24" title="24"></a></p> + +<p>This pity was quite thrown away. Philip St. Leger was in his element; he +had never been so happy in his life; Newberg was made up of hills, in +the midst of grander mountains; it nestled in the western shadow of +Keansarge; and King's Hill and Sunapee reared loftily around her their +bold bleak fronts. A beautiful lake of the same name lay blue and clear +at Sunapee's foot. "Pleasant Lake" lay in another direction, famous for +its delicious trout and fragrant pond lilies.</p> + +<p>Philip, the young scapegrace from city and from college, was in an +ecstacy; he had never beheld skies so blue, lakes so fair, landscapes so +lovely; with every breath he seemed to draw in life, vigor, and a new +sense of beauty. Every morning he was up at sunrise, scouring the +country upon the back of Nellie, a graceful, fleet young mare which Col. +Selby had generously set aside for his use. Maids, matrons, and small +boys stood in gaping amaze, stool in one hand and milk pail in the +other, watching half-fearfully, half-admiringly, the fearless young +equestrian, who shot by like a comet, his long, black hair streaming in +the wind.</p> + +<p>It was Philip's delight to create this stare and wonder, to which poor +Nellie was obliged to contribute still more than her young master's +pleasure. If he could leap over some low garden wall, dart over a famous +strawberry bed, or amidst the melon patch, he thought he had done +something splendid. The owner's dismay, not alone at the ruin, but at +the untamed spirit that dared it, gave him peculiar delight.</p> + +<p>Those old ladies who found their fattest goose dangling half-dead from +the apple-bough in the early morning,<a class="pagenum" name="page_25" id="page_25" title="25"></a> or who looked in vain for patient +cows within the yard, whose bars had mysteriously disappeared, began +less to admire this youthful metropolitan.</p> + +<p>Complaints poured in upon Col. Selby. At first he laughed and made light +of them; then he consulted his wife. She was a staid, proper person, +careful of the family's good name and popularity. It would never do. +Philip ought to have some sense of what was due to his host; since he +had not, he must be put in mind of it. She would undertake the task +herself.</p> + +<p>This she did, but without effect. Philip had promised sorrow and +amendment with a long face, but inwardly he laughed, and after, became +seven times worse than before.</p> + +<p>Complaints multiplied. Not only were geese and cows interfered with, but +dogs and horses were found tied to saplings or shut up in most +unimaginable places. Burdocks and thistles appeared in meeting-house +pews, where they surely had never before been known spontaneously to +spring; teachers in the Sunday school were shocked to learn that they +had distributed dime novels with books and tracts. The minister, one +morning in the pulpit, solemnly opened his Bible, and unexpectedly +beholding a most ludicrous picture, laughed outright, to the great +scandal of every looker-on.</p> + +<p>Now this was too much. Mrs. Selby had passed by stories of green-apple +showers falling upon homeward-bound school children's heads; she had +even smilingly held her peace when laughingly assured that a troop of +dogs and cats had gone madly wailing and howling<a class="pagenum" name="page_26" id="page_26" title="26"></a> through the streets, a +miniature world flaming with fire attached by means of wires to each +caudal appendage—even that was too much decidedly. But this tampering +with the meeting-house! Mrs. Selby consulted first her husband, as in +duty bound; that is, she called him aside, told him the latest pranks of +their protégé, and emphatically added that there should be an end of +them.</p> + +<p>"But wife, I cannot turn the boy out of my house."</p> + +<p>"You need not, my dear; that is my privilege, particularly since he is +<i>my</i> relative, not yours. Forbearance now would cease to be a virtue; +there is a limit to human endurance; there shall at once be an end to +this boy's mad pranks. He is on the piazza, perhaps studying some new +mischief; send him in to me, please."</p> + +<p>"But are you not too hasty, wife?" urged the soft-hearted ex-Governor, +who remembered his own follies and frolics of long ago.</p> + +<p>"Too hasty, when we have all borne so much? Gov. Selby"—with a +smile—"allow your wife to command you; send that naughty boy hither."</p> + +<p>An hour later, Philip having sought her in house and garden, stood in +presence of Mary Selby, at last discovered in her attic studio.</p> + +<p>"Your mother has banished me; she has already spoken the fatal words; I +must leave Newberg, this garden spot of God's glorious earth—most of +all, I must leave you, cousin Mary, and I shall be lost, forever lost," +exclaimed this strange youth, in tones melodramatic.</p> + +<p>Mary laid aside her palette and brushes.<a class="pagenum" name="page_27" id="page_27" title="27"></a></p> + +<p>"Why then, cousin Phil, haven't you done better, after so many repeated +warnings?"</p> + +<p>"It is easy for <i>you</i> to ask that question, and you can answer it better +than can I. Why do you not ask the wind why and whence it blows? Why do +the waters overflow their banks, why ocean waves engulf life-freighted +ships?"</p> + +<p>"No, Philip, there is no analogy. Be reasonable; you are a being of +will; you can do or not do. He is only a child who exercises no +self-control, who is governed only by caprice, whim, or whatever passion +of the moment. These follies, of which my mother makes account, and +rightly, are beneath one of your age. There is in them nothing +ennobling, charming; nothing that should gratify a mind that has the +faintest conception of the good, the beautiful, and the true."</p> + +<p>"I suppose so, cousin. But I have so long indulged in this fun-loving +propensity"—</p> + +<p>"That it has grown into an inveterate habit. Is this, then, a part of +your better nature? Is there no depth beneath this evanescent +surface—froth and foam? I believe there is. But in order that it may be +discovered to the light and made fit for cultivation, this trivial +surface-crust must be turned under, kept down, lest light and heat +nourish its weeds into luxuriance."</p> + +<p>"Why have you not talked to me thus before? <i>You</i> could do anything with +me, cousin Mary."</p> + +<p>"I will tell you the truth, Philip, because I think I owe it you. I went +not with you to ride or walk, I have kept myself aloof from you, because +my parents thought you too wild for my association."<a class="pagenum" name="page_28" id="page_28" title="28"></a></p> + +<p>"I am not a bear, and I might be better than I seem," said the proud +boy, humbly.</p> + +<p>"Yes, Philip, I believe you. And I have often thought I might do you +good. Had you been my brother I should not have hesitated; but I had a +suspicion that you might regard any persuasions or lectures from me as a +piece of self-righteousness, for which you might have, as do I, supreme +contempt."</p> + +<p>"O, no, cousin. You are the best woman in the world. I would do anything +for you."</p> + +<p>"Leave off all of those mischievous pranks which are the cause of your +present disgrace?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, even that—and more. But it is too late now. I go to-morrow."</p> + +<p>The result of this and still further conversation to the same effect +produced a conviction upon the mind of Mary that the spoiled child was +not beyond hope of redemption. She laid the case before her parents, +and, with the aid of her father, obtained a reluctant consent from her +mother that one more trial might be given the recreant Philip.</p> + +<p>Even without this Mary would have gained her point, for on the next +morning Philip, burning with fever, was unable to leave his bed.</p> + +<p>A severe attack of typhoid ensued.</p> + +<p>When Philip St. Leger, after a dangerous illness of many weeks, became +convalescent, he was a changed person. Not alone through the influence +of Mary, but Colonel Selby, and especially his wife, were brought to +realize how prone they had been to reproach and condemn without having +made the slightest efforts to<a class="pagenum" name="page_29" id="page_29" title="29"></a> reform. A neglected, untutored, +un-Christianized young man had been placed in their care—was it too +late to redeem the past? No effort was left untried, though exercised +with the greatest delicacy to bring the young heathen's mind to a proper +state of its former unhealthfulness, of its present pressing needs.</p> + +<p>Mary read to him biographies of the good and great. She read ennobling +works of poetry and counsel. She brought before his mind by example how +superior was earnestness to trivialty, strict integrity to knavery and +falsehood, goodness and piety to wickedness and infidelity. As she read +and commented, her voice became to Philip as the voice of an angel. Her +work was indeed accomplished when, after having listened to her +rendering of St. Paul's grand epistles, there sprang up in his heart, +first: "Almost thou persuadest me to be a Christian;" then this full, +heart-swelling sympathy with the Apostle's words:</p> + +<p>"For I am persuaded that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor +principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor +height, nor depth, nor any creature, shall be able to separate us from +the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord."</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style="margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em"> +<a class="pagenum" name="page_30" id="page_30" title="30"></a> +<a name="THE_MISSIONARYS_RETROSPECT_868" id="THE_MISSIONARYS_RETROSPECT_868"></a> +<h2>CHAPTER V.</h2> +<h3>THE MISSIONARY'S RETROSPECT.</h3> +</div> + +<p>Though Philip St. Leger would have done, in almost all things, as Mary +Selby directed, upon one certain point he was inflexible. This was upon +the subject of immersion; he would not go down into the waters of Lake +Sunapee, following the custom of the Newbergians.</p> + +<p>During his boyhood his mother had been a member of the Presbyterian +society; latterly, for some good reason or other, she had made a move +into the Episcopal; whether through whim for popularity, or for +conscience' sake was best known to herself. Her puritanical cousin, Mrs. +Col. Selby, and a very worthy woman she was, regarded Mrs. St. Leger as +a heretic, and looked upon the troubles with her children as a just +punishment for having left the Church of her fathers. She had herself, +however, meantime made very considerable concessions to her own +religious convictions. For, while stoutly believing in sprinkling, in +infant baptism, in open communion, and in each and every tenet of +Presbyterianism, she had actually been received into the Calvinistic +Baptist Church! What an unheard-of thing! It created no little talk +among<a class="pagenum" name="page_31" id="page_31" title="31"></a> the good people of Newberg, and more for this reason: Mrs. Job +Manning, a farmer's wife, who dutifully assisted her husband in earning +a frugal living on the rocky sides of King's Hill, having been a +Congregationalist, had been refused years previously, admittance to this +same Church. She was poor, had a family of young children, had no way of +traveling thirty miles to her own nearest meeting-house, and had humbly +begged, with her husband, who was already a good Baptist, to be received +into the Church. Failing this, since she could not consent to immersion, +and shrank from the doctrine of close communion, she, or rather her +husband, demanded that she might be allowed to partake occasionally of +the Lord's Supper.</p> + +<p>Rev. Mr. Savage, and the dignified Deacon Gould, and his equally +dignified colleague, Deacon Drake, gazed very solemnly down upon the +communion table, pursing up their mouths most decidedly, as if a +sacrilege had already been committed by so astounding a proposition. Of +course the duty fell upon Mr. Savage, the minister, to declare before +all present that the demand of brother Manning, in behalf of his wife, +was unreasonable, incomprehensible, and un-Christian.</p> + +<p>Was Mrs. Manning a Christian? Then let her be baptized in a Christian +manner, and thereby show herself worthy to eat the bread and drink the +wine. Until such time there could be no admittance.</p> + +<p>The two solemn-looking deacons on either side of the dogmatic speaker +raised approvingly their eyes, and after balancing themselves a moment +upon their toes, settled back upon their heels as grave and decorous as +before.<a class="pagenum" name="page_32" id="page_32" title="32"></a></p> + +<p>Brother Job Manning arose hastily, and said:</p> + +<p>"My wife, Nancy Manning, is as good a Christian woman as the town of +Newberg holds. I eat with her at home, thank God, and if she ain't good +enough to eat with me at the table of the Lord, then I ain't good enough +neither, and you can have it all to yourselves."</p> + +<p>And Job Manning, somewhat angry, it must be confessed, strode out from +the assembled body of Christians, up to his pew in the side aisle, and +plucking his wife by the sleeve, who arose and followed him, marched out +of the Baptist church for good and all.</p> + +<p>But in the case of Mrs. Colonel Selby it was altogether different. She +was a woman of wealth and influence. She could do so very much for the +Baptist church, it would never do to offend her. And the Colonel was so +devoted to her, he might go off in a huff as poor Job Manning had done, +and stand it out to the bitter end. It was a dilemma, no disputing about +that. A bad precedent, more particularly after the precedent in the +Manning case. But it <i>must</i> be got along with, and it <i>was</i>, and Mrs. +Colonel Selby, a strict and ultra Presbyterian, always open and +outspoken, became an honored member of this closely-guarded Baptist +fold. What was to hinder? Who was to say, why do you so? No bishop with +his interdict, no Pope with his "thunders from the Vatican." Here was +one of the beauties of the Protestant system.</p> + +<p>"System," says Webster, "is an assemblage of things adjusted into a +regular whole, or a whole plan or scheme consisting of many parts +connected in such a manner as to create a chain of mutual dependencies." +It is<a class="pagenum" name="page_33" id="page_33" title="33"></a> not at all strange that Protestantism should protest against this +definition, and should establish its own instead: An assemblage of +things so adjusted and built up as that they may easily be rearranged or +completely demolished as occasion may require, or a whole plan or scheme +consisting of many parts so connected as to create a gossamer-thread of +mutual independencies.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Selby was too shrewd and sensible not to see the inconsistency +involved. But then she was quite used to inconsistencies. Moreover, she +deemed herself quite in the right, and the Baptist Church had mounted +upon the plane it behooved itself to stand; at all events, it must +answer for its own right and wrong doing, as Mrs. Selby expected to +answer for her own.</p> + +<p>Mary Selby sought not to influence Philip in the matter of his baptism. +She saw where his inclination tended and was silent. He accompanied his +mother's cousin to her native city, and was there received into the +First Presbyterian by Mrs. Selby's venerable and beloved friend, Rev. +Mr. Storrs.</p> + +<p>Colonel Selby used his influence in infringing upon the college rules of +Dartmouth, and the young man, expelled from one college, was received +into another. So bad use had he made of his former advantages that he +was obliged to go back to the sophomore year; even here he had to study +early and late to maintain his position.</p> + +<p>After three years of assiduous diligence, he graduated with honor, when, +for the first time since the day of his disgrace, he visited his +paternal home.</p> + +<p>His fashionable mother viewed her handsome, scholarly<a class="pagenum" name="page_34" id="page_34" title="34"></a> son, not only +with amazement, but with pride and satisfaction. His three sisters, all +grown into womanhood, the youngest being sixteen, were at first rather +shy of him. They had not forgotten how he used to annoy and vex them. +They early perceived the change, and became distressingly fond of him. +It would be so nice to have an elder brother to go with them everywhere. +And such a brother! so fine-looking, who had an air so distinguished, a +face so poetical and classical! O, wouldn't all the other girls envy +them this splendid brother? They would make a grand party, and exhibit +him at once.</p> + +<p>What was their dismay on finding that he absolutely refused to show +himself to the guests! The wealthiest, most learned, most <i>élite</i> of the +city were all in the drawing-rooms, beauty and fashion were in full glow +and flow, music all atremble to stir into life, bright eyes were +flashing expectation, and dainty lips had sweet words waiting to say, +and he would not appear! In vain the mother coaxed, flattered, and got +angry; in vain the sisters pleaded, begged, cried, and insisted. He was +inexorable. But they had made the party on purpose for him!</p> + +<p>Why had they not informed him sooner? He could have saved them all the +trouble and disappointment. He could have told them he was no lion, and +would not be paraded. He had not been in society for three years; he was +never again going into society.</p> + +<p>This, then, came of going off into the country! Buried alive. Come out +so peerless and beautiful, and all to no purpose! He might just as well +have been a grub!<a class="pagenum" name="page_35" id="page_35" title="35"></a></p> + +<p>By great efforts the mother and daughters choked down their wrath and +mortification, bathed their swollen eyes, put on fresh lily white and +carmine, and joined their guests. What should they have for an excuse? +O, a sick headache—sudden and distressful—he was subject to them; poor +Philip!</p> + +<p>Later in the evening, Estelle St. Leger led Della Lisle up to her own +room. They were passing through the hall. Opposite her door, Estelle +stooped to lace her slipper, for which purpose she had left the +drawing-room.</p> + +<p>"So he has no headache," said Della, "and absents himself only from +aversion to society?"</p> + +<p>"That is all," replied Estelle, pettishly. "Isn't he stupid?"</p> + +<p>"No, I just begin to think right well of him. I have no respect for some +of those effeminate butterflies down stairs, who say only silly +nothings, because, forsooth, they think we can appreciate nothing +better, or because they have nothing better to offer."</p> + +<p>"But I thought you were quite captivated with Edward Damon? You two, for +the last half hour, have seemed to be unconscious that there was aught +else in the world save that one corner that held you."</p> + +<p>"Edward Damon is an exception. He is intelligent, unaffected, and +agreeable. He is not all simper and softness. He can talk with one +without being lost in his own self-conceit, fancying you deep in +admiration of his own charming self. Yes, I really like Edward Damon."</p> + +<p>The shoe was laced, and the girls passed on, but the<a class="pagenum" name="page_36" id="page_36" title="36"></a> voice of Della +Lisle seemed still to linger upon the ears of Philip. His own door +opened upon the hall very near to the waiting girls; he had heard every +word. First, the voice of Della was pleasant and gentle; it powerfully +attracted him; second, her words were not those of an ordinary city +lady.</p> + +<p>"A sensible girl, that—Della, Estelle called her; a pretty name. And +Edward Damon is there, it seems, the best fellow I ever knew. Who knows? +Maybe a shoe-string influences my fate. At all events, I am influenced +in a way I may not resist."</p> + +<p>And Philip St. Leger, with extraordinary inconsistency, soon appeared +among his mother's guests. There was but one drawback to the joy and +gratification of that mother and the three sisters—his necktie was not +of the very latest style.</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style="margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em"> +<a class="pagenum" name="page_37" id="page_37" title="37"></a> +<a name="MISSIONARY_LIFE_1056" id="MISSIONARY_LIFE_1056"></a> +<h2>CHAPTER VI.</h2> +<h3>MISSIONARY LIFE.</h3> +</div> + +<p>In falling in love with Della Lisle at first sight, Philip pleased +himself only and his sister Estelle; that is, if we leave Della out. His +mother had the tall, graceful daughter of a millionaire selected for +him; Leonora, the elder sister, had her pet friend Miss De Rosier, +secretly engaged and under promise; Juliet, the younger, wished him +never to fall in love, never to marry, but to remain forever her dear, +only, adorable brother Philip, for whom she would give up all the world +and live a maiden to the end of her life.</p> + +<p>This engagement with Della, however, was not the worst that might be. +They discovered this to their discomfiture when shortly after he +announced to them one morning at the breakfast-table that on the +following week he should leave for Princeton.</p> + +<p>A theological course at Princeton! A true-blue Presbyterian, a +long-faced, puritanical minister, who would deem it a sin to laugh, +speak, or wink on a Sunday. And this was what their brother was coming +to. This was why it had been impossible to get him to go with them to +St. Mark's Church, though they had told<a class="pagenum" name="page_38" id="page_38" title="38"></a> him how beautifully <i>High</i> +Church it was; how it had a high altar and candles, almost like the +Romanists, only that it was not at all Romish, but entirely and truly +Catholic! Was ever such like woful perversity? When they had just got a +brother to be proud of, who could take them to theatres, concerts, +balls, operas, and everywhere, for him to go and degenerate into an old +solemn Presbyterian minister! It would be bearable, if he must be a +minister, if he would only be a High Churchman, and would be called a +priest, and wear the surplice, and read the service in his charming +voice, and be rector of such a fine, rich church as our own St. Mark's! +They could put up with that, because he could still go with them to +places of amusement, and would not be likely to scold them for dancing +all night and sleeping all day. Besides, his praise would be in +everybody's mouth, he would speedily get a D. D. to his name, the ladies +would all admire him, and he would still be their own, own brother. They +wished he had never seen Newberg, nor Colonel Selby's family, nor +Dartmouth College. They forgot or were ungrateful for his transformation +from a state of good-for-nothingism to comparative Christian virtue.</p> + +<p>Philip perceived and was pained at the folly and frivolousness of his +mother's household, but any attempt at change more favorable appeared to +him so herculean, that he made scarcely an effort in its behalf. He was +conscious that therein lay neglect of duty; they might owe to him what +he owed to Mary Selby. Often when he thought of her he bowed his head +reverently, and said: I have two saviours—an earthly and a +heavenly—Mary Selby and my Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ.<a class="pagenum" name="page_39" id="page_39" title="39"></a></p> + +<p>To the near relatives of Philip his going to Princeton was so much like +burying him, that when, after three years, he returned finally to his +home and announced that in one month he was both to marry and sail as +missionary to Turkey they were scarcely surprised. They made no outcries +and no ado; they had given him up long ago; he would be no company for +them in their rounds of gaiety and fashion; he might as well be teaching +heathens or Musselmen in the kingdoms of the Brother to the Sun as a +dry, dull parson in America, ever in danger of offending their +aristocratic tone and ideas by his sober, old-fashioned notions.</p> + +<p>After his marriage, before embarking for Turkey, Philip, with his bride, +paid a visit to Newberg. His second sermon he preached in the Baptist +church. To those simple-minded country people, he stood before them a +living illustration of what the grace of God might effect. Six years +previously he had startled and amazed them, as though he had ridden +through the air on a broomstick; now he came back to them in peace and +gentleness. Before he had laid sacrilegious hands upon the Holy Bible in +the sacred pulpit; now he opened the same reverently and read from +thence the words of eternal life. The change was indeed marvellous, and +Newberg proudly set him down as a second Paul the Apostle.</p> + +<p>Della was dreadfully seasick on the ocean voyage, and, as she often +declared, it seemed she never became completely well again. Owing to +this delicate state of her health, the St. Legers did not accompany +their companions to the field assigned them, a small town in<a class="pagenum" name="page_40" id="page_40" title="40"></a> the +interior, but remained in Constantinople, at the house of Dr. Adams, +resident Protestant minister of that city.</p> + +<p>It was not until after the birth and death of her first child, when her +health became somewhat reinstated, that Della was able to accompany her +husband to their contemplated mission. Here they rejoined their +companions of a year ago; Mr. and Mrs. Fisher, and Mr. and Mrs. Dodd. It +had been a former mission until recently abandoned; the houses, small +and inconvenient at best, had either been appropriated or fallen to +decay.</p> + +<p>A few rooms had been made habitable, and here the missionaries had taken +up their abode. Cheerless it seemed and disheartening to Philip and +Della, as they saw no progress at all made in the objects of their long +journey, but every effort consumed in struggles for daily bread.</p> + +<p>"What have you been doing?" asked the St. Legers, so wonderingly as to +convey almost a reproach.</p> + +<p>"The same as yourselves," retorted the Fishers and the Dodds, "nursing +our healths to make us well."</p> + +<p>"We will all begin together then," said Philip pacifyingly.</p> + +<p>"As soon as you please; you shall lead and we will follow," answered the +associates.</p> + +<p>Notwithstanding this ebullition of energy at the outset, month after +month, nay, year after year elapsed without the least material progress. +What was termed a school would be sometimes kept up for weeks together, +at which some few children could be coaxed<a class="pagenum" name="page_41" id="page_41" title="41"></a> to come; but after the +supply of pictures, ornaments, etc., with which they had been attracted +gave out, the attendance languished and the idle urchins sought +amusement elsewhere.</p> + +<p>Bibles were flung out with a lavish hand to men, women, and children who +had never before possessed such a treasure as a book; and this book +might for them just as well have been a bundle of old almanacs, for all +printed language was Greek to them. And they, these missionaries, did +not believe that the mere possession of the holy word of God could +impart or draw down God's grace upon the possessor; for that would be +akin to the miraculous, and they eschewed faith in miracles.</p> + +<p>An attempt was made at expounding and hearing the word of God on +Sundays. There was good enough will in these expositions, but the ears +and the hearts for receiving were far away. People, it is true, would +come some days in crowds, but it was not for instructions; they went as +young America goes to see a band of turbaned Turks, or Barnum's latest +humbug.</p> + +<p>Where was the use of spending so many persons' energies upon such a +stolid, indifferent, intractable people? They were wedded to their +idols, why not leave them alone? Why should they cast pearls before +swine?</p> + +<p>These were questions the missionaries asked themselves; and answered +too, if not to their satisfaction, to the best of their ability. Their +time became more and more consumed in the care of their increasing +families.</p> + +<p>These missionaries in their home-reports might well<a class="pagenum" name="page_42" id="page_42" title="42"></a> speak of hardships. +The women were often sick, help could but rarely be obtained, and then +of the poorest quality; thus these gentlemanly graduates of Yale, +Dartmouth, and Princeton had often not only to cook meals for the +family, but to wash, iron, attend the sick wife and helpless infants, +and suffer all the anxieties and annoyances that human flesh is heir to. +What wonder that they came gradually to lose sight of the grand +aspirations that had animated their early manhood? To forget, as it +were, the objects and aims of their holy mission, and to sink into the +mere <i>paterfamilias</i>, like other good masters of families? There seemed +no alternative; the routine of domestic duties must be accomplished; the +sick must be attended to; hungry mouths must be fed, fast-coming forms +must be clothed. Where was the time to go forth seeking the heathen or +compelling him to come in? The wife and children could neither be taken +nor left alone. In fact, the missionaries found to their great surprise, +as all experienced men have found, that the care of a family is a +never-ceasing, all-engrossing responsibility. The outside work could be +very small indeed; all had to centre in that one spot, home. They +cultivated small gardens, and in this way eked out their subsistence on +the small salaries received from the Board of Missions.</p> + +<p>Thus lived they from year to year, hopeless of the present, but +overflowing with hopes for the future. Though they could labor not <i>now</i> +in Christ's vineyard, they might do so by and by; though they might live +to behold no fruit of their labors, they might, unknown even to +themselves, have sown the good seed, and their<a class="pagenum" name="page_43" id="page_43" title="43"></a> children's children, and +the children of heathendom might arise up and call them blessed.</p> + +<p>Della Lisle's life—or rather Della St. Leger's—in the land of her +adoption, lasted but five years; she had buried two little children, +who, so brief was their existence, could scarcely be said to have lived +at all. As her third trial was approaching and her health in wretched +state it was deemed best that she should be taken by easy stages to +Constantinople, where English medical advice could be procured. The +journey proved invigorating, and Della landed at Dr. Adams' in almost as +good health as when she had left, more than four years previously.</p> + +<p>There was always good company at the house of Dr. Adams. English and +American travelers, whether religious or not, were wont to claim his +hospitality.</p> + +<p>Upon the arrival of the St. Legers, a very interesting gentleman was +spending a few days; he bore the common name of Chase, but he was no +common man. Though still in the prime of life, he had traveled the world +over, made himself conversant with all languages, manners, and customs, +studied into all fanaticisms and all religions, and if he had ended in +having faith in none, as such people often do, he admirably kept his own +counsel.</p> + +<p>After coffee, the Doctor with his guests withdrew to the open court; +distributing a Turkish pipe to each, he sat himself down upon his +cushion, prepared to listen to this traveled friend with his usual +animation.</p> + +<p>Dr. Adams' house being head-quarters for missionaries coming and going, +and Philip St. Leger being at<a class="pagenum" name="page_44" id="page_44" title="44"></a> this time the third who had arrived +within a day or two, the others being still present, the conversation +naturally turned upon missionary life.</p> + +<p>Now, Mr. Chase was a Yankee; and though a cultivated one, he had not +parted with an innate inquisitiveness, and had an off-hand way of asking +such questions as first presented. He catechised these three +missionaries as faithfully, even in presence of Dr. Adams, as if he had +been President of the American Board. He desired to know the number of +years spent in the work, the size and extent of their missions, the +number of actual converts, and also all about their own families and +modes of living.</p> + +<p>Having apparently satisfied himself, Mr. Chase said, wheeling around to +the Doctor:</p> + +<p>"The same story. In my various travels I have come frequently across +these missionary stations; you will pardon me if I tell you what you +cannot fail to know, that they are complete failures. In my opinion, the +money might be better expended in planting gunpowder."</p> + +<p>The three youthful missionaries opened wide their eyes, but the Doctor +smoked away complacently.</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style="margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em"> +<a class="pagenum" name="page_45" id="page_45" title="45"></a> +<a name="THE_DISTINGUISHED_TRAVELERS_VIEWS_1273" id="THE_DISTINGUISHED_TRAVELERS_VIEWS_1273"></a> +<h2>CHAPTER VII.</h2> +<h3>THE DISTINGUISHED TRAVELER'S VIEWS.</h3> +</div> + +<p>Mr. Chase dropped his pipe, as if in a great hurry, and continued:</p> + +<p>"Now, here are three missionaries, and they will excuse me, as I am +about to present to them a great truth—each of whom has left at his +respective station from two to four colleagues. There are then from ten +to fifteen men, with as many women and more children; the difficulty is +with these women and children; they are very dear, precious objects, I +have no doubt, in their own homes and in Christian lands, but they are +only clogs and drawbacks in such an enterprise as these young men are +engaged. A man alone can dive into forests, scale mountains, swim +rivers, fight lions, eat raw birds, make his bed in caves, or on solid +rock, lie down with the Indian, rise up with the Hindostan, do any and +every conceivable wild outlandish thing that the world's nations do; but +with a woman—pshaw, that alters the case."</p> + +<p>"But there are instances of brave women," remarked the Doctor, "Look at +Lady Hester Stanhope, and Lady —"<a class="pagenum" name="page_46" id="page_46" title="46"></a></p> + +<p>"But they were unmarried women. There are the Amazons of old too, and +Amazons are not wanting at the present time—but such do not come within +my category. From the very nature of the case, a man with a wife is +fettered; he cannot be absent from home twenty-four consecutive hours. +She is afraid of the dark, afraid of dogs and lions, of robbers and +murderers, afraid the children will get sick, or that 'something or +other will be sure to happen, as always does if he is away.' He too is +as uneasy as herself, meditates all sorts of mishaps, imagines the house +on fire, Johnny in the well, Fanny with a bean in her throat or a corn +in her ear, and is on thorns and briers until his own house circles him +around again. This is all right and natural for the ordinary domestic +man; but, as I understand it, the missionary undertakes God's work; he +renounces the world, its joys, comforts, friendships; he is no longer +his own; but his will, love, obedience, and work is all for God, his +Master, and for the heathen who know Him not. The truth is, the man who +considers himself called to missionary labors should leave his wife +behind him; that is, he should have no wife."</p> + +<p>The Doctor, who was now a man of sixty, had been thrice married, and was +now entertaining thoughts of a fourth wife, took his pipe from his lips +and said emphatically:</p> + +<p>"You are an extremist, Mr. Chase, you speak thus perhaps because it has +been your lot to lead a single life; but, let me tell you, I think our +missionaries sacrifice enough, without being obliged to come wifeless +among negroes, Hindoos, South-sea islanders, and Cannibals.<a class="pagenum" name="page_47" id="page_47" title="47"></a> A dreary +life at best—unendurable without companionship. You wouldn't get a man +to sail under the conditions you propose."</p> + +<p>"Did the Apostles have wives and children pulling after them?" continued +Mr. Chase. "Imprisoned, stoned, beaten, and scoffed, was their life less +dreary than should be the missionary's of to-day? What says St. +Paul—'thrice was I stoned, thrice was I beaten with rods, thrice I +suffered shipwreck, a night and a day have I been in the deep.' Do you +suppose it ever occurred to that mighty, God-like spirit, even in the +lowest depth of his worldly misery, that it would be a comfort to have a +wife come to weep with him, to hand him fresh gown and sandals? Never so +far fell that grand soul from its exalted repose upon the bosom of the +infinite! From that source whence he drew courage sublimer, faith +diviner, and strength irresistible, which no woman's heart or hand could +aid in evoking! Ah, that was a glorious St. Paul."</p> + +<p>"You are eloquent, sir, as all of us might well be over such a subject," +said the Doctor; "but you must remember that only one St. Paul has ever +lived."</p> + +<p>"Though he has been a model for many. I don't know—only <i>one</i> St. Paul? +I think if we look back into history—say, take the Fathers of the +Desert—there was St. Jerome, a grand old man, St. Augustine, with less +of fire, but of lofty faith, St. Ephrem, there, in him you have a St. +Paul in eloquence; you will remember that his words were wont to flow so +rapidly that his frequent exclamation was—'O Lord, stay the tide of Thy +grace.' Why, the number is countless whose labors,<a class="pagenum" name="page_48" id="page_48" title="48"></a> toils, and +self-denials were gigantic. St. Benedict, St. Wilfred, St. Bernard stand +out—"</p> + +<p>The Doctor having thrown down his pipe and commenced walking the floor, +here interrupted his enthusiastic guest:</p> + +<p>"O, if you go to taking up the Roman Catholic calendar of Saints, you +will find plenty of fish in illimitable waters; but that is out of our +line of coasting, you must know; and we are not in the habit of +associating St. Paul with any of these latter-day Saints."</p> + +<p>"Please allow me, Dr. Adams, you know I am a privileged person. My +last-named Saint, Bernard, lived at least four hundred years before +Luther and John Knox, and Wilfred and Benedict much nearer to Christ +than to us, the latter having been separated in time but four centuries +from his Lord; but let us not contend upon this point; I cheerfully +admit my own superior admiration for the converted persecutor of the +Christians."</p> + +<p>"If his like has not been seen through eighteen hundred years, we may +not look for it in the nineteenth century," remarked the Doctor.</p> + +<p>"I still insist, however," said the indomitable Mr Chase, "that he has +had many imitators; and that brings us back to the subject whence we +have strayed, and upon which I have not said all that I had intended. I +was going to remark, after asserting that missionaries should leave +their wives at home, that the success of Catholic missionaries +illustrates the truth of this."</p> + +<p>"I beg you to remember," interposed the Doctor, testily, "that we do not +wish to be compared in any<a class="pagenum" name="page_49" id="page_49" title="49"></a> way, shape, or manner with the Catholic +missionaries. You might just as well compare us to the heathen who +worship idols."</p> + +<p>Mr. Chase continued, a little more mildly than before:</p> + +<p>"The question is not, my dear Doctor, a comparison between your religion +and theirs. I understand very little indeed about their religion. But +their object and yours is the same; by every means in your power to +induce souls ignorant of the Saviour to believe and accept the truths +you hold out; this is your mission, and this is theirs. You come with +your families, you make a home—you stay there—waiting for the heathen +to come to you; your wife is nervous, she likes not the uncouth looks +and ways of your barbarians; she is neat and she does not like her white +floor to be soiled by the dirty feet of your savages. Nervous, neat, and +timid herself, she meets their gaze anything but smilingly—even savages +are human, and know well enough how to take a hint. Her involuntary +dislike is returned with interest, and her husband's influence and +usefulness is at an end, even before being established."</p> + +<p>"You judge us harshly," complained Dr. Adams, glancing at the +dissatisfied countenances of his younger friends, "some missionaries +have most excellent wives."</p> + +<p>"Do not understand me as saying one word against any missionary's wife; +far be it from me. As a class, I have no doubt they are most estimable. +But women are women all the world over, and experience convinces me that +in the place they occupy as wives of missionaries they are only greatly +in the way. Now the Roman<a class="pagenum" name="page_50" id="page_50" title="50"></a> Catholics—and I am no friend to their +religion, as you very well know—as missionaries, are those only who +have met with success. <i>They</i> attribute it to the grace of God following +their efforts, in accordance with the divine promise, 'Go teach all +nations, and lo, I am with you to the end of the world.' I have visited +their missions in every part of the world; in North and South America, +in Africa, Europe, Asia, and many islands of the sea—and in fact this +really did confound me, though I have been almost everywhere under the +sun, these missionaries were already there, working away as for dear +life—well, as I was saying, I have been in many a place where, to get +the least comfort at all, I was compelled to put up with them; and, I +always went away soothed, refreshed, and consoled. I assure you it is +wonderful; they go among the natives, and to a certain extent become one +of them; they win their confidence, treat them kindly, share with them +food and drink, sleep in their houses and tents, and by and by +insensibly have become their masters. Then how easy to teach them +anything! Now they couldn't do this with troops of women and children +along; so I came to the conclusion that their remarkable success in the +conversion of heathen nations was to be attributed to the absence of +these hindering appendages."</p> + +<p>"But you must have found nuns as missionaries in some places."</p> + +<p>"You know they are invisible to us profane people. They do have charge +of schools in some missions—but then, cannot you perceive that a dozen +of nuns, independent and self-supporting, is a very different +institution<a class="pagenum" name="page_51" id="page_51" title="51"></a> from a dozen of married women and half a dozen dozen small +responsibilities?"</p> + +<p>The Doctor laughed good-humoredly.</p> + +<p>"You stick to your point like the bark to a tree," he said. "What do you +say, young gentlemen," addressing his silent, but ill-pleased guests, +"are you convinced that you have made a blunder, and are you ready to +set about retrieving it?"</p> + +<p>St. Leger answered, with a voice that slightly trembled with +indignation:</p> + +<p>"I am convinced, Dr. Adams, that the learned gentleman who is so +conversant with the subject of missions, should seek and find his true +and proper position in the bosom of those successful idolaters he so +greatly admires."</p> + +<p>"Why, you take it to heart," said the Doctor. "Had you known Mr. Chase +as long and well as I have, you would make a different estimate of his +remarks;" and he turned the subject, for, in truth, he was not at all +pleased with these plainly spoken views, deeming them entirely uncalled +for and inapropos. He hastened to call out the distinguished traveler +upon a less distasteful theme.</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style="margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em"> +<a class="pagenum" name="page_52" id="page_52" title="52"></a> +<a name="THE_VISITATION_BY_SPIRIT_AND_BY_DEATH_1461" id="THE_VISITATION_BY_SPIRIT_AND_BY_DEATH_1461"></a> +<h2>CHAPTER VIII.</h2> +<h3>THE VISITATION—BY SPIRIT AND BY DEATH.</h3> +</div> + +<p>When Philip retired to his room that night he was surprised to find his +wife still awake. "What a wonderful man that is who has been +entertaining you this evening," she said.</p> + +<p>"Wonderful fool!" ejaculated the pious missionary, whose disturbed +temper had not yet become altogether serene.</p> + +<p>Della was quite thrown back by so unwonted an exclamation, and remained +silent. At length Philip said:</p> + +<p>"What do you know about him? where have you seen him? haven't you spent +the whole evening in this room?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, but the windows open upon the court; I have heard every word."</p> + +<p>"And heard no good of yourself, either," remarked Philip, snappishly.</p> + +<p>Her husband was in so unusual a mood that Della hesitated about entering +upon the conversation she had intended. She was impulsive, however, and +did not like to wait.</p> + +<p>"Philip, I want to say something," said she, gently.</p> + +<p>"Well, say away," was his ungracious permission.<a class="pagenum" name="page_53" id="page_53" title="53"></a></p> + +<p>"I thought you had something to say," he said again, more gently, as +Della remained silent.</p> + +<p>"It was only this: I had been thinking the same thing," she said, almost +in a whisper.</p> + +<p>Now Philip knew very well what his wife meant. <i>He</i>, too, had thought +the same thing. But he pretended to be in the dark, and abruptly +demanded:</p> + +<p>"The same <i>what</i> thing? Why must you speak so enigmatically?"</p> + +<p>"O, Philip, you could have done so much more and better without me. I +have done nothing, and have hindered you."</p> + +<p>"And what are you going to do about it?" said Philip, coldly.</p> + +<p>"Why, Philip, what <i>is</i> the matter with you? How strangely you answer +me!" cried Della, excitedly.</p> + +<p>"Never mind me now, Della I am not myself to-night; go to sleep."</p> + +<p>Truly, thought Della, he is not himself; so she prudently resolved to +defer her "something to say" to a more favorable season.</p> + +<p>For the next eight or nine hours Philip's mind was in a whirlpool. While +a student at Princeton, the lectures of Cardinal Wiseman had chanced to +fall in his way. He read them with avidity, particularly those "On the +Practical Success of the Protestant Rule of Faith in Converting Heathen +Nations," and "On the Practical Success of the Catholic Rule of Faith in +Converting Heathen Nations." They left upon his mind unpleasant +impressions, and created doubts and misgivings which his tutors could +with difficulty dispel. But<a class="pagenum" name="page_54" id="page_54" title="54"></a> he shut his eyes, blinded his mind, and +allowed the hour of his visitation to pass by. Now, the words of this +Mr. Chase, a stray traveler, roaming through the world without aim or +object, so far as known, had aroused this slumbering phantom of the +past, and provoked, if not challenged, him anew. He recalled the story +of Catholic missions that had read to him like a continuation of +Apostolic labors; statistics, gathered altogether from Protestant +sources, showed them to be overwhelmingly successful; the gift of +miracles and the gifts of the Holy Ghost had descended upon them, and +crowns of martyrdom numerous and shining. He had even thought with a +thrill that had he never met Della it would be glorious to join this +lion-hearted band, whose symbol was the ever-upborne Cross! But there +had avalanched down upon this temporary glow such a storm of ridicule +against Transubstantiation, worship of the Blessed Virgin and of dead +men's bones and cast-off garments, and the putrified corruptions of the +Man of Sin generally, that the one generous, struggling spark was +extinguished. Of the great Protestant Foreign Missionary Society, for +which so much money had been expended, so many millions of Bibles +distributed, so many glowing reports printed, Philip St. Leger was now a +part, knew all its ins and outs—alas! its outs.</p> + +<p>This was the reason Mr. Chase's remarks had so fretted him: because of +the truth which he was unwilling to receive. To himself this young +missionary had admitted long before that a married man was too much +cumbered for his undertaking. At the same time he<a class="pagenum" name="page_55" id="page_55" title="55"></a> mentally insisted +that in that foreign land life without his wife would be to him +intolerable. It was truly distressing and discouraging that five years +had passed by with but the most trifling results. He thought, and not +for the first time, that were he settled in the faraway, quiet village +of Newberg, his life might not pass away so unprofitably. But he had put +his hand to the plough; should he now turn back?</p> + +<p>The dissatisfied missionary passed a sleepless night; he murmured and +repined; he was not willing to ascribe praise to his Roman Catholic +brethren, nor to admit their right to claim the promise of our Lord to +be with them unto the end. The result was that he resisted the spirit, +and allowed this second visitation to pass by, leaving him more +self-determined than before. Therefore, with the dawn of day, he +resolutely dismissed the subject, with emphasis asserting: "I am a +Protestant; I will live and work with my Protestant brethren. We must +admit nothing on the part of our adversaries; we must make our claims as +bold as theirs."</p> + +<p>When, therefore, a few days after, Della renewed the subject, he was +prepared to quiet her scruples.</p> + +<p>"And is their success, then, so really wonderful as this gentleman +declares?" she inquired.</p> + +<p>"Not at all. Doubtless in many places they do gain a temporary success, +but this is easily accounted for. The Catholic religion lies in outward +observances. They have so much show and ceremony that the ignorant +native is necessarily attracted. The dress, altar, lights, bell, all +have their part in alluring the curious. They think there must be some +great mystery connected<a class="pagenum" name="page_56" id="page_56" title="56"></a> with so much paraphernalia. They are naturally +willing to be let into the secret. But there is nothing in it at all to +convert the heart or convince the understanding. When these useless +accessories are removed, the converted heathen, as he is called, +relapses into barbarism."</p> + +<p>"It has seemed to me, though, Philip, that if we had only something in +our service to attract the attention, we would have a great advantage; +that is the first and principal thing to get people together. By having +something to win their curiosity, a great point is gained. Giving them a +Bible is like giving them a stone for bread—they can make nothing out +of it," said Della, decidedly.</p> + +<p>"But when they have the teachings of the Bible once thoroughly impressed +upon their minds, does it not stand to reason they would be better and +more persevering Christians?" asked Philip.</p> + +<p>"Very likely. But the difficulty is to make this impression. We tell the +heathen, man, woman, or child, that Christ died on the Cross to redeem +us. Would he not lend us more earnest attention if we illustrated our +instruction by exhibiting to him an image of the Cross and the +Crucified—in short, if we taught him, as did the ancients, the whole +story of Redemption, and the establishment of the Church, by series of +pictures and images?"</p> + +<p>"What is the use of going back thousands of years ago when we are living +in the nineteenth century? Why not make use of the art of printing since +we have it?"<a class="pagenum" name="page_57" id="page_57" title="57"></a></p> + +<p>"Certainly, wherein it is of advantage. But the majority of those whom +the missionary seeks to instruct are beyond the reach of that admirable +art. Letters have for them no meaning; books are for them only to look +at; and with a picture the eye is instructed and more pleased."</p> + +<p>"Let us send to Rome for a cart-load of Madonnas, crucifixes, beads, and +all the et ceteras for satisfying and perpetuating superstition and +ignorance," said Philip, sarcastically.</p> + +<p>Della was sensitive to ridicule and remained silent. Her husband +continued:</p> + +<p>"Or, since you deem yourself a supernumerary in your present vocation, +suppose you allow me to pack you off in the return-cart to the Eternal +City, that is said to sit over the mouth of Il Inferno. You may kiss the +toe of his Holiness, and humbly ask penance for the rest of your mortal +life for having presumed to be a Protestant missionary's wife, and +carried the Bible to the dying heathen."</p> + +<p>"The subject is too serious for any such nonsense," remarked the wife, +gravely. "The question is <i>how</i> to convert the heathen. It seems to me +the true missionary of the Cross should not be above receiving prudent +suggestions from whatever source; more particularly ourselves, who are +inexperienced in the work."</p> + +<p>"You are right, Della, as you always are," replied the husband, more +sincerely. "I have been revolving the subject over, and have come to a +firm resolution to turn over a new leaf on our return to the mission. If +Mrs. Fisher were not so peevish and Mrs. Dodd so distressingly<a class="pagenum" name="page_58" id="page_58" title="58"></a> +particular, we could get along better in the kitchen; the native girls +would do better, and improve. If you were to oversee that department, I +think there would be a change greatly for the better. The truth is, I +believe those women are afraid of being poisoned. They ought to give +their time in the school. If they tried to make it interesting there +would be a better attendance. It is all nonsense to spend one's whole +time in getting up dainty dishes, and <i>recherché</i> toilets for one's +babies. At all events we must arouse ourselves from this slough of +indifference and give our best energies to the work. We have not made +half a trial yet. How can we expect success to follow aught but +energetic effort?"</p> + +<p>Distance lent enchantment. Now that the missionaries were hundreds of +miles away, the labors of the mission seemed easy of accomplishment, and +the daily, hourly difficulties and hindrances dwindled into +insignificance.</p> + +<p>Scarcely a month later and Philip St. Leger bent in thankfulness over a +little daughter, which the doctor said might live.</p> + +<p>"We will call her Della," said Philip to his wife.</p> + +<p>"Not Della, but Althea. I give her to God, Philip. May she do for Him +what I have not been able."</p> + +<p>Philip had turned to his wife that he might the better catch her feeble +whispers. O, the dread that rushed through his heart! A ghastly pallor +was spread over the face, a convulsive spasm distorted for a moment the +sweet mouth.</p> + +<p>"I am going—O, Philip," she said, wildly, and ere he had time to call +on God for mercy she was gone.<a class="pagenum" name="page_59" id="page_59" title="59"></a></p> + +<p>"Good God, doctor, is she really dead?" cried Philip, as soon as he +could speak to the physician upon the opposite side, whose fingers now +let fall the pulseless wrist.</p> + +<p>"All is over," answered the physician, sadly.</p> + +<p>"Why did you not call me sooner if you saw the danger? How dared you not +inform me at once?" demanded Philip.</p> + +<p>"Pray be quiet, my dear sir. It was very sudden—entirely +unanticipated—although I had been suspecting disease of the heart. Her +lungs were a good deal affected, but her heart I think the immediate +cause of her death. Otherwise, she was doing nicely, bravely, better +than could be expected. You have met with a great loss, sir—a wonderful +loss—your wife was a noble woman. God help you!"</p> + +<p>Della St. Leger was buried by the side of the first and third Mrs. +Adams, the second having been buried on an island in the sea. The latter +had been a Southern lady, and had brought with her a colored woman, at +that time her slave. This person, Minerva by name, remained still an +invaluable member of Dr. Adams' household. To her care the little +motherless Althea was entrusted; and Philip St. Leger, with what heart +may be imagined, went back alone to his dreary mission.</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style="margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em"> +<a class="pagenum" name="page_60" id="page_60" title="60"></a> +<a name="THE_NEW_CHOICE_1695" id="THE_NEW_CHOICE_1695"></a> +<h2>CHAPTER IX.</h2> +<h3>THE NEW CHOICE.</h3> +</div> + +<p>We have given a more thorough retrospect of the missionary's antecedents +than did he to his friend on that memorable night at Kennons. But the +gleam of his flashing eye, and the glow of the sparkling flame into +which he gazed was like flint to flint; and to us was it given +mysteriously to read the fiery flashes thus revealed.</p> + +<p>From the death of Della, he went on to inform his brother-in-law that he +had brought back his child in care of the faithful Minerva, whom he had +left with his younger sister for the present. He did <i>not</i> tell him that +the real object of his present visit to America was to take to himself a +wife for the second time. This, however, he might, have told, had he not +found his friend in such affliction, as that any news of this kind must +have grated upon him harshly.</p> + +<p>Indeed, several months previously he had written to the principal of the +Seminary for her to select a suitable young lady for his future wife. +This was not the first time her offices had been solicited in this line; +but she was an elderly lady, sensible and practical, and naturally +thought that a missionary's second wife should be distinguished for +something more than youth and beauty.<a class="pagenum" name="page_61" id="page_61" title="61"></a></p> + +<p>Accordingly, when, upon Philip's arrival in his native city, he had +visited his friends, and disposed of his daughter, he called upon Madame +X—, she presented to him her choice for Mrs. St. Leger, in the person +of Miss Arethusa Toothaker, the eldest, tallest, most sedate young lady +of her establishment.</p> + +<p>Miss Toothaker was of an uncertain age, though she called herself +twenty-seven—was tall, as we have said, and slender, had a long, narrow +head, which she carried on a neck too long, had very red cheeks, small +snapping black eyes, very thin hair, of which she wore in front two very +meagre curls done in cork-screw style, held her broad shoulders high, as +if vainly striving to get them far as possible from her long, ant-like +waist—well, this is enough, for at the very first glance Philip St. +Leger turned away his eyes and closed his heart.</p> + +<p>Upon taking his leave Philip informed Madame that Miss Toothaker would +not do.</p> + +<p>Madame was surprised; "She would make a worthy companion," insisted the +principal, "and the dream of her life has been to become the wife of a +missionary."</p> + +<p>The missionary smiled—he would not disturb her dreams for the +world—but "would Madame X—allow him to be present at the morning +exercises of the school some day?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly, any morning you please—to-morrow, if agreeable, you can +open school with prayer and address some useful remarks to the young +ladies."</p> + +<p>On the following morning was great commotion in the ranks of the young +ladies. The handsome, distinguished foreign missionary was to open +school. At<a class="pagenum" name="page_62" id="page_62" title="62"></a> the "let us pray," a hundred young heads rested upon the +upraised right hand; but it is to be feared that authorized devotional +attitude was sadly infringed upon, for, when he pronounced "Amen" sooner +than was anticipated, he encountered so many bright admiring eyes that a +less self-possessed person than Philip might have been abashed. As our +hero had studied his speech, however, he was able to commence and go +through without the slightest embarrassment. His keen eye swept the +array of youth and beauty before him, and so quick was he in arriving at +conclusions, his choice was made before his remarks were ended.</p> + +<p>A person of less penetration might have chosen many another than Emily +Dean. There were several among her compeers of more beauty and +brilliance. But Philip St. Leger was a good judge of character; he had +but to look upon a face to read the heart. He had loved Della Lisle from +hearing her voice, and from one glance at her countenance. Emily Dean +wore her hair, like hers also in color and abundance, as had Della. In +this only was resemblance, unless in a certain pensiveness of expression +and pose of attitude.</p> + +<p>Madame X—was again surprised, when, in the afternoon of the same day, +the missionary asked for an interview with "the young lady who had +occupied the fifth seat on the right hand side of the third row, who +wore her hair somewhat like a crown, and was dressed in pale blue."</p> + +<p>"Ah! Emily Dean—a very fine girl—but is she not too young—hardly +nineteen?"</p> + +<p>"I myself am not a Methuselah," remarked the<a class="pagenum" name="page_63" id="page_63" title="63"></a> missionary, somewhat +piqued that although but thirty-one, he should be esteemed too +unsuitably old for even the youngest of Madame X——'s pupils.</p> + +<p>"Of course—O certainly—of course—I beg your pardon," said the lady +hastily, "but a missionary's wife, you know—there is much to be +considered."</p> + +<p>Philip, evidently bent upon doing his own considering, pursued his +inquiries, and gained the interview. He proposed to the young lady in +presence of the principal, and in so very business-like a way as +convinced both the elder and the younger that there was more +practicability beneath that poetical exterior, than the latter would +have suggested or warranted them in believing.</p> + +<p>Philip was not long in discovering Emily Dean to be the eldest child of +an independent farmer in Western New York. She had four sisters and +three brothers younger than herself. "With such a family, the father can +more easily part with this daughter," thought Philip; and he started off +on the next train to visit the family of the Deans.</p> + +<p>Emily he found to be a favorite in the household. His proposition to +take her with him "away to the barbarous Turk" was received with +consternation and tears. The more, that it was felt, from the first, +that if she wished it they should have to give her up.</p> + +<p>The enthusiastic suitor proposed the father should at once go for his +daughter and conduct her home. To all objections and demurrers as to +haste and postponement Philip had a ready and eloquent answer. There was +no gain-saying this ardent pleader.<a class="pagenum" name="page_64" id="page_64" title="64"></a></p> + +<p>The farmer left his host of potato-gatherers and apple-pickers and went +off on the express. In twenty-four hours he returned with his daughter. +Philip would have given no time for preparations—but in this he was +forced to yield.</p> + +<p>The parents insisted their eldest daughter should have a wedding +<i>trousseau</i>—it was not meet she should set out on so long a voyage, +across the ocean of water, and the ocean of married life, in the +condition of Miss Flora McFlimsey. So Philip St. Leger took this +interval of time for his flying trip to his brother-in-law in Virginia.</p> + +<p>But he found, as we have seen, the gloom of death spread over Kennons. +Had he needed aught to convince him anew of the evanescent nature of all +beneath the sun, he found it here. It was indeed painful to contrast the +joy and happiness of this Southern home of little more than six years +ago, and the present desolation. In that joy he had shared—in this +gloom was his own heart wrung. In the moment of mournful silence that +followed his long; discourse and Duncan's, life seemed to him not worth +the living, and rising from his chair he said, with marked emphasis:</p> + +<p>"Duncan, my friend, we are but travelers of a day. Our life, like that +fire, goes out in ashes. The night comes, and we sleep. <i>Do</i> we rise +again? Does this corruption put on incorruption—this mortal put on +immortality? O, could I hear a voice from Heaven say unto me '<i>Yes</i>,' I +should be comforted!"</p> + +<p>"Why, Philip! Have you, too, doubts? God Almighty help us, when the +faith of His ministers falters!"<a class="pagenum" name="page_65" id="page_65" title="65"></a></p> + +<p>"Bear with me now, Duncan; the darkness in my soul is deep and terrible +to-night; death and the grave seem the only sure certainties we have in +this world. Morning may bring me right again, if another morning remain +for me. Let us sleep—and good night!"</p> + +<p>The friends separated—and Duncan pondered on the missionary's last +words. They seemed prophetic; and he almost expected, when he sent +Grandison to his room on the following morning, to see that servant +return with direful news. Not so. Philip appeared about ten o'clock, +declaring he had slept well, and felt much refreshed. He remained for +several days at Kennons, during which time the grave of Ellice was +opened, and a tiny coffin let down upon her own; mother and child were +re-united; and as Philip offered a prayer over the fresh-thrown earth, a +ray of stronger faith enkindled his heart. Philip talked of his own +little girl to Duncan Lisle:</p> + +<p>"I had intended leaving her with my sister Estelle, who was my favorite. +She was much attached to Della," said Philip; "But I found Estelle's +husband does not like children; besides, she has three of her own, the +eldest but a baby, and twins younger. Leonora is well married, but +devoted to society, has no children of her own, and no idea of being +troubled with other people's. I could not leave her with my mother, even +though she had not been an invalid. My only resource was to entrust her +with Juliet, who was but recently married, and who, with her husband, +received the child delightedly. I do not feel at all satisfied with the +arrangement, but it was the best I could do. Juliet<a class="pagenum" name="page_66" id="page_66" title="66"></a> is good-hearted, +over-affectionate, and will be kind to the child; but she is rather +simple-minded, frivolous, and variable. Her husband is a kind, sensible +man, but he was raised a Roman Catholic. Juliet tells me that he is not +much of anything now; but I doubt it, for he insisted on being married +by the priest, before the ceremony at St. Mark's; and then again, the +idea of one who has been raised a Catholic ever being anything else +<i>but</i> a Catholic. It is preposterous. I have charged Juliet to see that +no influence is ever brought to bear upon the mind of my child as she +advances in years—but I have still grave fears. Possibly the time may +come when you can remove her to Kennons, say, for a year or so, at a +time; it would be a source of pleasure to me to have Althea beneath the +roof under which her excellent mother was reared."</p> + +<p>Duncan but too gladly promised to keep an oversight of the child; he +would occasionally visit her during her infancy, and his home should +ever be open to her; had Ellice lived she should have known no other.</p> + +<p>The friends, newly attached, took sad leave of each other. Duncan leaned +upon the gate, and watched the other as he rode slowly through the lane. +Had the feet of the horse been mounting stairs that led upward to the +skies, Duncan would not have felt more sure that Philip was passing +forever from his view.</p> + +<p>"Traveling, he one way, I another, yet both to the same goal—eternity," +mused Duncan.</p> + +<p>As he spoke, a carriage came in view, hiding the retreating traveler. He +discerned at a glance that the carriage, drawn by fiery, coal-black +steeds, was that of<a class="pagenum" name="page_67" id="page_67" title="67"></a> Mrs. Rush, He remained by the gate until the driver +drew rein, and the bright, glowing face of the lady put itself out of +the window.</p> + +<p>"So, Mr. Lisle, your friend has already gone. I had no idea he was going +so soon. I am so sorry. I was going to have had you over to dinner +to-day. As it is, you can come, Mr. Lisle,—you and Hubert."</p> + +<p>Duncan Lisle pleaded indisposition, and politely declined.</p> + +<p>"But what are you going to do? House yourself up and mope yourself to +death?" persevered the handsome widow. "I know how it is, and that you +must feel a disinclination to society; but one must make an effort, you +know. Come, I will take you right over in my carriage; there is plenty +of room. Come, Hubert, come, jump in;" and the little boy, very willing, +sprang up to the side of the carriage. His father went to assist him.</p> + +<p>"Hubert may go, but, really, I cannot, Mrs. Rush. You must excuse me. +Another time, perhaps."</p> + +<p>"But I don't excuse you, Mr. Lisle. I am so disappointed You know what a +splendid cook my Dinah is, and I ordered her to do her best. But then I +suppose if you won't, you won't, and there's an end of it; is that so?"</p> + +<p>"That is so, Madam," and touching his hat gracefully, he bade her an +inaudible "good-morning," and turned away.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Rush ordered Washington, her coachman, to drive home. She was +disappointed and chagrined, but not discouraged. She was vain as a +peacock or Queen<a class="pagenum" name="page_68" id="page_68" title="68"></a> Elizabeth. Like another <i>Dorcasina</i>, she fancied every +man to be her <i>inamorata</i>. She had never abandoned the idea that Duncan +Lisle had been once in love with her. She had been encouraged in this +delusion by the duplicity of her servants, who, to propitiate her favor, +had been in the habit of repeating false expressions of his admiration +and regard.</p> + +<p>"If all reports are true, he thinks more of you this day than he does of +Miss Ellice," said one.</p> + +<p>"Everybody knows that Duncan Lisle worships the ground you tread on, and +always did. Miss Ellice happened to come along and just inveigled him, +that is all; he is sorry enough, you may 'pend," falsified another.</p> + +<p>"He always <i>was</i> talking about how mighty han'some you was, and what +beautiful eyes you had," declared a third, and so it went, and credulous +Mrs. Rush laid the flattering unction to her soul that she was the one +woman in the world for Duncan Lisle.</p> + +<p>"It is only for looks' sake; he wanted to come bad enough, you may bet +on that," said Dinah to her mistress, when informed that she had got up +her great dinner for nobody but little Master Hubert.</p> + +<p>As to Hubert, after he was through with his good dinner, he had anything +but a pleasant visit. Thornton Rush—his name was Jude Thornton +Rush—was a few months older than Hubert, He possessed the beauty of his +mother, with the dark, hidden nature of his father. He was stubborn, +morose, and quarrelsome. He abounded in bad qualities, but if there was +one which excelled another, it was cunning and duplicity.<a class="pagenum" name="page_69" id="page_69" title="69"></a> These were so +combined as really to form but one. Had he been a man and termed +<i>Jesuitical</i>, in the Protestant sense, that term would have aptly +described him. Now Hubert was not perfect more than other children, but, +compared to Thornton Rush, he was a little saint. His organ of +combativeness frequently waged stern conflicts with his bump of +reverence. His sense of right was keen as his sensitiveness against +wrong and falsehood. He was, like his mother, frank and open as the day, +generous, disinterested, and unselfish.</p> + +<p>What should happen, then, when these two natures came together? What but +thunder and lightning, as when two clouds meet?</p> + +<p>Duncan Lisle thought about this as he saw his boy borne away from him, +and he resolved to go over for him very soon after dinner. He arrived +just in time to rescue him, bruised and bleeding, from the fists and +fury of Thornton Rush. The quarrel had commenced in this way: Thornton +had asserted that everything at Thornton Hall was his; Hubert had +nothing. Hubert admitted as much, insisting, however, that all at +Kennons was his.</p> + +<p>"No such thing," denied Thornton. "Everything at Kennons is your +father's; you have nothing."</p> + +<p>"Well," said the other, "so everything at Thornton Hall is your +mother's, and not yours."</p> + +<p>"No such thing. I am the master of Thornton Hall. My father is dead, +sir."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know that."</p> + +<p>"You know that! And is that all you can say? Say that I am master of +Thornton Hall, and that you<a class="pagenum" name="page_70" id="page_70" title="70"></a> are nobody but Hubert Lisle," said +Thornton, intent upon a quarrel.</p> + +<p>"I shall say no such thing."</p> + +<p>"But you will, sir, and I can make you. I am stronger than you are, and +I have bigger fists. Look here, aren't you afraid?" shaking his clenched +fist in the other's face.</p> + +<p>"No, I am <i>not</i> afraid," spoke Hubert boldly, striving to grapple with +his stronger foe.</p> + +<p>So engaged were the boys, they heard not the approach of Mr. Lisle, +till, having dismounted from his horse, he seized Thornton by the collar +and flung him afar, as he would have done a wild cat.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Rush, who had seen the whole from the window, and enjoyed it +immensely, now thought it worth while to come upon the scene.</p> + +<p>"What does all this mean?" as if just surprised. "Thornton Rush, you +will be punished for this. Have you no better manners than to treat your +young visitor in that way? Really, Mr. Lisle, I am truly distressed, and +offer you a thousand apologies. Please do not take Hubert home in that +condition; bring him to the kitchen and let Dinah bathe his face and +hands. How unfortunate this should have occurred!"</p> + +<p>Mr. Lisle complied, and waited until his boy was brought to him in a +more presentable condition; then he went away, very wroth indeed in +heart, but outwardly calm and composed.</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style="margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em"> +<a class="pagenum" name="page_71" id="page_71" title="71"></a> +<a name="A_DREAM_WHICH_WAS_NOT_ALL_A_DREAM_2017" id="A_DREAM_WHICH_WAS_NOT_ALL_A_DREAM_2017"></a> +<h2>CHAPTER X.</h2> +<h3>"A DREAM WHICH WAS NOT ALL A DREAM."</h3> +</div> + +<p>As the missionary journeyed northward, his mind emerged from the gloom +of the last few days. It naturally turned upon the young girl who was so +soon to become his bride, and in this connection life began again to +assume its rose-tints of old, and he was led to wonder how it was he had +so given way to grief and sadness. In recalling the trials and +disadvantages to which his young bride would be exposed at the mission, +a bright thought occurred to him. An American housekeeper would be +invaluable, and Miss Toothaker arose before him. She would no doubt +prove an excellent manager, and she was so unprepossessing in every way, +she would be unlikely to be appropriated by any widowed missionary. It +has been seen already that for Philip St. Leger to think and to act were +but quick, consecutive steps; it was so in this case. Upon his return to +Troy he called upon Madame X—— and explained his wishes. Miss +Toothaker was consulted, and accepted his proposition at once; she would +be on missionary ground at all events. True, she was conditionally +engaged to marry a Mr. Freeman Clarke,<a class="pagenum" name="page_72" id="page_72" title="72"></a> who was an itinerant preacher. +She had insisted that he should become a missionary. He had consented to +go as missionary to the Western frontiers. This did not meet Miss +Toothaker's views; foreign missionary or nothing. Mr. Clarke's +conscience did not send him to any Booriooboolah Gha, he said.</p> + +<p>The engagement had been for some time in this state of contention, when +the proposal of going to Turkey as "assistant" put an end to it.</p> + +<p>Miss Arethusa retired to her room triumphantly, and exultingly wrote to +her lover the facts in the case—except that she left him to infer that +she was going to Turkey, as she had always wished, a missionary's wife.</p> + +<p>Now that Mr. Freeman Clarke's "blessing had taken its flight," it all at +once assumed that brightness of which the poet speaks. He would have +argued and urged, even consented to have gone to the ends of the earth, +but he saw from his lady's letter it was too late. He solaced himself +somewhat by replying to her dolorously, hoping that she might perceive +his heart was broken and be sorry. He closed loftily by saying: "You +advise me, my dear Arethusa—allow me to call you thus for the last +time—to find a heart worthier and better. It was unkind in you to urge +upon me an impossibility. None but Napoleon ever scorned the word +impossible."</p> + +<p>Whether Mr. Freeman Clarke derived his inspiration for the itineracy +from his lady-love is not for us to decide; this much is certain: from +the day the "Atlantic" sailed for the Old World with Miss Toothaker on +board his zeal flagged, and soon gave out<a class="pagenum" name="page_73" id="page_73" title="73"></a> altogether. His love for +souls settled down upon one Annette Jones, the plain daughter of a plain +farmer, whom he married, and lived happily enough with upon a small, +rocky farm in the State of Vermont. In times of "revival," he became an +"exhorter," and very fervent in prayer. Upon one occasion he soared to +such a pitch as to cry out frantically: "O Lord, come down upon us now, +come down now through the roof, <i>and I will pay for the shingles</i>."<a name="FNanchor_A_1" id="FNanchor_A_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_A_1" class="fnanchor">[A]</a></p> + +<p>There were two or three people present who thought such an address to +the Supreme Being blasphemous and frightful, but the rest of the crowd +cried, "Amen."</p> + +<p>In due time our missionaries found themselves at the house of Dr. Adams. +The doctor was rejoiced to have back Minerva again, for he declared +nothing had gone on rightly since her departure.</p> + +<p>Although Philip was well pleased with his second wife, he forgot not his +first. On the evening of his arrival he went out to visit her grave. As +he stood there mournful and silent, a light step approached, and Emily's +hand clasped his own.</p> + +<p>"Is it <i>her</i> grave?" she asked softly.</p> + +<p>"Yes. You would not have me quite forget Della, would you?" he asked, +doubtfully.</p> + +<p>"O, no, but I would remember her with you. I would stand here by her +grave with you, and offer up my prayers with yours that she may look +down upon us in love and blessing. I would not seek to drive her memory +from your heart. I do not consider that I have usurped her place. I +would have a place alongside<a class="pagenum" name="page_74" id="page_74" title="74"></a> of hers—if I am worthy, Philip." She +added the last words in a whisper, and doubtingly.</p> + +<p>For the first time Philip perceived what a treasure he had won, and how +worthy a successor to his first love. He looked down in her tearful eyes +lovingly.</p> + +<p>"Della in heaven and Emily on earth—as one I love you," he said, +fervently.</p> + +<p>On the following day Philip took his bride out to view the wonders of +the city. They invited Miss Toothaker to accompany them, but were by no +means regretful that she declined. They little dreamed what was going on +in their absence. Suffice to say, when, after a few days of rest, they +began to make ready for departure, their "assistant" displayed not her +accustomed zeal and alacrity. This was accounted for on the last morning +of their stay.</p> + +<p>Without warning or preliminaries, immediately after prayers, in fact, +upon rising from his knees, Dr. Adams walked up to the blushing Miss +Toothaker, and taking her happy hand, led her to the far end of the +room, placing himself and her in position.</p> + +<p>"Before you leave, Mr. St. Leger, you will, if you please, do us the +favor"—(bowing low and smiling mellifluously) "you see how it is, sir, +and what we wish of you." The Doctor stammered, and was bashful, +although such a veteran in the service.</p> + +<p>The bride elect held her head very erect; the red spots in her cheeks +glowed like double peonies; her two thin curls, done in oil for the +occasion, hung straight and stiff like pendant icicles nigrescent; her +sparkling black eyes looked apparently into vacuity, while they<a class="pagenum" name="page_75" id="page_75" title="75"></a> were +really beholding the acme of all her hopes. She was thinking in that +supreme moment of her life how very providential it was that she had +thrown overboard Mr. Freeman Clarke. Whether he was picked up or whether +the sharks devoured him, it occurred not to her to care. That she was +about to become the fourth wife of the Rev. Dr. Adams, foreign +missionary at the Capitol city of Turkey, was sufficient glory; she +could have afforded to quench the hopes, and tread upon the hearts of a +dozen such as that itinerant preacher. She had reserved herself for a +grand calling, her life would be written in a book, and <i>her</i> name too, +along with the Judsons, the Newells, the Deans, would inspire Sunday +school scholars with zeal for missionary life unto the end of time.</p> + +<p>But we are keeping them waiting.</p> + +<p>Philip, always master of the situation, choked down his indignation and +spoke the words, "for better—for worse." His prayer was brief and dry, +without one bit of heart or spirit, but maybe it answered the purpose.</p> + +<p>The Doctor, after the tying of the knot, did condescend to thank Philip +for his kindness in bringing him over a wife. Philip replied with +truthfulness that he merited no thanks.</p> + +<p>And after all, once started again upon their inland journey, both Philip +and his wife regretted not the absence of Arethusa. They had endured her +company for sake of the advantage she was to prove to them in the +future; they now fully realized how much she had been in their way.</p> + +<p>Philip's respect for the Doctor sensibly diminished.<a class="pagenum" name="page_76" id="page_76" title="76"></a> If he could endure +Miss Arethusa for the the rest of his life, his taste was abominable. +<i>De gustibus non disputandum est</i>; with this familiar reflection, Philip +turned to a subject more agreeable.</p> + +<p>Thus had Arethusa's life-long dream of becoming a missionary's wife +proved neither illusive nor vain; and she had dropped the Toothaker.</p> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_A_1" id="Footnote_A_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_A_1"><span class="label">[A]</span></a> A fact.</p></div> + +<p>[Illustration]</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style="margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em"> +<a class="pagenum" name="page_77" id="page_77" title="77"></a> +<a name="ALTHEAS_GUARDIANS_2168" id="ALTHEAS_GUARDIANS_2168"></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XI.</h2> +<h3>ALTHEA'S GUARDIANS.</h3> +</div> + +<p>The little Althea then, who is our heroine, when we shall come to her, +had been entrusted, somewhat unwillingly, to her aunt, Juliet St. Leger +Temple; Juliet never wrote her name only in full, as above. She was +proud of her maiden name. St. Leger was romantic, high-sounding, +aristocratic. Temple—well, Temple had been well enough in the early +days of her courtship. She thought she loved John Temple so very +profoundly that she would have married him even if he went by Smith or +Jones. She had read Charlotte Temple, and she knew people by that name +of great respectability; but since her marriage, she had discovered, on +the same street with her, a family of Temples who were snobbish and +vulgar. This put her out of conceit with her husband's name. John +Temple! so almost the same as James Temple, only a few squares below. +Who was to distinguish her, Mrs. Juliet St. Leger Temple, from the fat, +dowdyish, over-dressed, gaudy Mrs. Temple, who wore a wig, and whose +eyes squinted? Who, she questioned, when both went by the name of Mrs. +J. Temple, of M—— street? Her<a class="pagenum" name="page_78" id="page_78" title="78"></a> early married life was clouded by this +one grievance. She had still another; her husband was a Roman Catholic, +and would not go with her to St. Mark's Church. True, she had known him +to be a Catholic when she married him; but she had <i>not</i> known or +dreamed that these Catholics were so set and obstinate in their +religion. He had been so reticent upon the subject that she had supposed +him quite indifferent. Once married, she could convert him; O, that +would be a very easy matter. He need go to St. Mark's but once to be so +delighted that he would wish to go there ever after. She had consented +to be married first by the priest in order that John Temple might see +the delightful difference between being married by Father Duffy at low +Mass in the early morning, while fashionables were still folding their +hands in slumber, and being married five hours after by the elegant Dr. +Browne, assisted by the Rev. Drs. Knickerbocker and Breck—with a +brilliant group of bridesmaids and groomsmen, and only the very <i>élite</i> +of fashion, full-dressed and perfumed, in attendance.</p> + +<p>"I hope he will be captivated now; and that here will ooze out the last +gasp of his love for the religion of St. Patrick," the young bride had +said mentally.</p> + +<p>But neither Dr. Browne, nor his beaming assistants, nor all the splendor +of St. Mark's made upon John Temple the least apparent impression.</p> + +<p>The Sunday following the marriage witnessed quite a contention.</p> + +<p>"And you say this positively, John, that you will not go with me to St. +Mark's, and on the very first Sunday, too?" cried Juliet, incredulous.<a class="pagenum" name="page_79" id="page_79" title="79"></a> +"I have told you all along that I would not go to your church," replied +John.</p> + +<p>"But what possible harm could there be in your going just this once? Any +other man in the world would be proud to go with me in all my beautiful +bridal array. I assure you there is not another wardrobe in the city so +<i>recherché</i> as mine. You yourself said you never saw such a love of a +hat, and my point-lace might be the pride of a princess. But, John, if +you would only go, I would be more proud of you than even anything and +all of my elegant dress. Now, John, dear, please say yes," and she laid +her hand on his arm, and looked up, as she vainly hoped, irresistibly in +his face.</p> + +<p>But John shook off her hand impatiently, not deigning even to respond to +her look.</p> + +<p>"Silence gives consent, and you will go," she said.</p> + +<p>"Have I not told you once, twice, and thrice that I cannot go with you?"</p> + +<p>"O, John, but I did not think you in such terrible earnest, and you are +not, I am sure. I thought you loved me so well you would do anything to +please me. Come now, just this once, this first Sunday after our +marriage. Think how it will look, and what will people say to see me +walk into church all alone—and our pew is far up in front?"</p> + +<p>"Is it for the looks of the thing and for what people will say that you +go to church?" asked the husband, gravely.</p> + +<p>"No, of course not; but then we must have some regard for the speech of +people, and how it will look<a class="pagenum" name="page_80" id="page_80" title="80"></a> for you to go off to one church and your +wife to another."</p> + +<p>"Would you care to go with me, Juliet?"</p> + +<p>"With you? To St. Patrick's? With all the Bridgets and Pats and Mikes of +the city? Do you think I could stoop so low? O, John Temple, you insult +me!" and the young wife burst into indignant tears.</p> + +<p>John hurried to her with his handkerchief to wipe her eyes. She thrust +it away, declaring there was something about a gentleman's handkerchief +that made it abominable.</p> + +<p>"Well, don't cry, dear," urged John, soothingly.</p> + +<p>"It's all the comfort left me," sobbed Juliet.</p> + +<p>"I simply followed your example," continued the husband. "You invited me +to your church, and I invited you to mine, that, as you said, we might +go together. I had no idea of urging you to go if it would be +disagreeable to you."</p> + +<p>"There's a vast difference. If you go to St. Mark's you are among +elegant people. Every one's dress is in the height of fashion. You see +nothing low or vulgar. There is nothing to offend the senses. The very +thought of my going to St. Patrick's!" and the lady cast up her eyes as +if she were about to faint or to implore Heaven to save her from such a +horror.</p> + +<p>"But you associate in society with the McCaffreys, the Dempseys, and the +Blakes, and many others of the congregation of St. Patrick."</p> + +<p>"O, well, they probably started up from nothing, and are used to it; +they don't know any difference.<a class="pagenum" name="page_81" id="page_81" title="81"></a> But for me—a St. Leger! O, John, if +you love me, don't ever mention such a thing again; and if you love me, +John, a half or quarter as I love you, you will go with me to St. +Mark's. I will not go without you, and I shall cry myself into a +dreadful headache, and you can refuse me and see me suffer so when we've +been married but five days! O dear, dear, I thought I was going to marry +a man who would love me so well he would do everything in the world to +please me, and now here it is!" and Juliet fairly shook with sobs.</p> + +<p>John Temple was a very matter-of-fact man; quite the reverse of his wife +in every respect. The wonder is how such opposites became attracted. He +understood very little of women's ways, and became fearful that his +young bride was on the borders of distraction. He felt himself justified +in remaining absent from Mass, and as he persevered in his resolution of +not accompanying Juliet to St. Mark's, both remained at home, where more +of clouds than sunshine reigned.</p> + +<p>More than once during this scene John Temple was on the point of +yielding. Where was the harm after all? and it would be a pleasure to +gratify Juliet. But he remembered the promise he had made to himself and +his God, that, in marrying a Protestant wife, he would still keep aloof +from the Protestant Church. This promise kept him true. If once would +have answered, he might have gone once; but after that the battle would +have to be fought over again; the victory might be made complete in the +beginning.</p> + +<p>The next day, while Mr. Temple was at his place of business, Juliet, +feeling herself very much injured,<a class="pagenum" name="page_82" id="page_82" title="82"></a> visited her rector, Dr. Browne. She +told him the whole story in her tragic way, including the insulting +proposal for her to go to St. Patrick's. She wished Dr. Browne would +contrive some way by which her her husband might be brought to terms.</p> + +<p>Dr. Browne smiled.</p> + +<p>"You will remember, Mrs. Temple," he said, "that your friends all warned +you in this matter of your marriage. It is so impossible for a Catholic +to become anything else, that it has become an adage, 'Once a Catholic, +always a Catholic.' Do not expect your husband to change; the leopard +might as well be expected to change his spots. Ephraim is joined to his +idols; let him alone. Let him go to his church, and you to yours. It is +not pleasant, but must be accepted as one of the conditions of your +marriage. Neither let it create trouble between you. Avoid religious +subjects. But as he will undoubtedly cling to his Church, so must you to +yours. Do not be prevailed upon to go with him; remain upon that point +firm as himself."</p> + +<p>Thereafter Juliet concluded she had better make the best of it, and +by-and-bye it had ceased to become the "skeleton in the house," as at +first.</p> + +<p>Had Juliet been less exacting and less demonstrative in her affection, +she would have made her husband a happier man. Coming home one day he +found her crying, as if her heart would break. To his eager inquiries as +to the cause, she replied, hysterically:</p> + +<p>"You don't love me, John, and I am the most unhappy woman in the +world."<a class="pagenum" name="page_83" id="page_83" title="83"></a></p> + +<p>"Don't love you! What has put such a notion as that in your head?"</p> + +<p>"You know you don't, John; that is enough."</p> + +<p>"But if I tell you I do?"</p> + +<p>"That is just what you never do tell me; that is what makes me so +miserable."</p> + +<p>"Am I unkind to you? What have I done that you complain of?"</p> + +<p>"You don't tell me every day that you love me."</p> + +<p>"Bless me! You are not expecting me to repeat that over every day? Is +not once enough for all? Did I not prove it beyond all words by marrying +you?"</p> + +<p>"I never expected our honeymoon to wane. If you calculated to settle +down at once into sober old married people, I did not, nor will I. I +wish we had never got married, and always stayed lovers; that was ever +so much nicer. Don't you say your <i>Ave Maria</i> every day?"</p> + +<p>"I do," answered John, "or rather I used to," failing to perceive what +connection this question could have with the subject.</p> + +<p>"Well, then, why do you do that? Why don't you say it once for all and +have done with it, as you say of your love for me? But no, all your +devotion must be given to a woman that lived thousands of years ago! You +think more of her picture than of your own wife! This is what one gets +by marrying a Catholic!"</p> + +<p>Juliet's temper was fast overcoming her grief.</p> + +<p>John Temple was agitated by a variety of emotions. He looked at his +wife, who had re-buried her face in the sofa cushions, and thus +addressed her, inaudibly:<a class="pagenum" name="page_84" id="page_84" title="84"></a></p> + +<p>"You foolish, little simpleton! you ignorant little heretic!—destitute +both of religion and common sense. Good Heavens, what a wife! Jealous of +Mary, our Mother in Heaven! O, Holy Mary in Heaven, pray for her."</p> + +<p>The dinner-bell rang.</p> + +<p>"Come, Juliet," said her husband, kindly, "let us go to dinner; I am +hungry as a bear."</p> + +<p>"You can go; I have no appetite, I never care to eat again as long as I +live," came out dismally from the depths of the pillows.</p> + +<p>John ate a hearty dinner, when, failing to conciliate his wife, he went +to his office. No sooner had the hall-door closed on him than Juliet +arose out of her sackcloth and ashes, bathed her face, arranged her +hair, and proceeding to the dining-room, so far forgot her intention of +never eating again as to surprise the cook by her greediness. She then +dressed, ordered her carriage, and was driven to her mother's.</p> + +<p>To this mother, who was a confirmed invalid, and confined to the house, +Juliet poured out the exaggerated tale of her grievances. It was not +enough that her husband was a Catholic; he was also heartless, stoical, +unsympathizing, and unloving.</p> + +<p>Mrs. St. Leger listened silently to the end. At the conclusion she flew +into a rage.</p> + +<p>"You shall go back to him no more," she exclaimed. "You see now the +folly of your persisting in marrying him. He was beneath you in every +respect. But you shall not live with him. My daughter shall not be +treated disdainfully by John Temple, an Irishman and<a class="pagenum" name="page_85" id="page_85" title="85"></a> a Catholic. I will +send for my lawyer and have divorce papers drawn at once. Ring for +Richard."</p> + +<p>"But, mamma—I—I—I never thought of getting a divorce. I love my +husband. It is because I love him so well that I feel so bad if—if—"</p> + +<p>"Juliet, you are a goose," interrupted the irritated parent; "if you are +so fond of your husband, what are you here for with your complaints? If +you are bound to live with him, why, live with him, and hold your +tongue. When it comes that you are willing to separate and get a +divorce, then come to me, but not till then."</p> + +<p>Juliet returned to her home a wiser woman. The very thought of +separation from her husband was distracting. What was mother or sister +compared to him? She had really no doubt of his affection, and it +suddenly flashed upon her mind that such scenes as she had just gotten +up, if frequently repeated, might have a tendency to alienate him. She +would make it all up; she would tell him how sorry she was; she would be +so glad to see him; he <i>should</i> love her, even though he did not tell +her so.</p> + +<p>John came home that night wondering if he should find his wife's face +still hidden in the cushions, her hair standing out in a thousand +dishevelled threads. It was not a pleasant picture. Yet it <i>was</i> a +pleasant picture that met him at the door. Juliet was all smiles, blooms +and roses. There was joy in her eyes, and gladness in her tones. Never +had she looked quite so beautiful to John Temple—even when first her +beauty won him. It was such a surprise! What wonder he committed the<a class="pagenum" name="page_86" id="page_86" title="86"></a> +folly—but no matter. Juliet learned a lesson to her advantage. Tears +and upbraidings had failed to move him. A happy face, smiles, charming +toilettes, joy at his coming had brought out those expressions which +demands had failed to elicit.</p> + +<p>Juliet was not satisfied yet. She had to tell him how shocked she had +been at the mere thought of losing him. John opened his eyes, and felt +considerably hurt as she detailed the visit to her mother, and that +mother's proposition for a divorce. For Juliet touched very lightly upon +her own fault of having made outrageous complaints against him. +Nevertheless he felt convinced of the facts, knowing Juliet had gone +there with unkindness in her heart. By his repeated questionings she +admitted all, but he fully forgave her, considering the good results of +her thoughtless action.</p> + +<p>On the day following this domestic breeze and subsequent calm, Philip +St. Leger had arrived from the Orient. Two months previously they had +been apprised of his coming. A family conclave had been held, at which +it had been decided that to Juliet should Philip's child be consigned; +for reasons already explained by Philip to Duncan Lisle.</p> + +<p>Juliet had now been married six months. She was twenty-five years of +age; old enough to have exhibited more sense and discretion than we have +seen her to do. She was, however, one of those who will be childish as +long as they live. Her faults and delinquencies were due more to +improper training than to natural defects. With such characters is hope +of reformation.</p> + +<p>Juliet was delighted with the child, which was just<a class="pagenum" name="page_87" id="page_87" title="87"></a> commencing to walk, +and could say a few words. She had the dark eyes and hair, and creamy +complexion of the St. Legers.</p> + +<p>Juliet had been, even among girls, distinguished for her love of dolls. +To make dresses and hats for her troop of a dozen had formed one of the +chief pleasures of her childhood, continued far up into youth.</p> + +<p>In Althea she saw the quintessence of all dolls. For her she could +embroider, ruffle, and tuck; search the city over for the daintiest of +baby shoes and the showiest of infant hats. Althea should have a nurse, +and a carriage, and a poodle dog. Santa Claus should not only give her +his choicest gifts at Christmas but should shower down toys every day in +the year. After a little, in another year, she would take her with her +to St. Mark's, where she should attract all eyes by her dress and +beauty.</p> + +<p>That Althea had a soul to be trained, carefully guided and directed to +God, entered not into the calculations of this giddy, superficial +woman.</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style="margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em"> +<a class="pagenum" name="page_88" id="page_88" title="88"></a> +<a name="THE_CHRISTENING_2485" id="THE_CHRISTENING_2485"></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XII.</h2> +<h3>THE CHRISTENING.</h3> +</div> + +<p>A year afterward came little Johnny into the house of the Temples. Words +altogether fail to do justice to the mother's pride and joy.</p> + +<p>Leonora, who wore proudly her husband's grand name of Van Rensaleer, +looked down on the Temples; nevertheless, as a duty, she called to +congratulate them upon the birth of a son.</p> + +<p>"Yes, a fine babe," she replied to the father's questioning look of +admiration. "A nice baby, I dare say," she said in answer to Juliet's +glowing extolations, finished by a "do you not think so?" "But all +babies look alike to me," she added. "I fail to see the charm, I prefer +my poodle."</p> + +<p>"Sour grapes," returned Juliet, her eyes flashing.</p> + +<p>"Sweet grapes, my dear," said her sister, softly. "Well, I wish you much +joy, and may the child prove a blessing to you."</p> + +<p>Then came Estelle. She was Mrs. Lang. She had married an Englishman, and +would have gotten along comfortably had she not been "worried to death" +with "those children." Hugh was now four years old, the<a class="pagenum" name="page_89" id="page_89" title="89"></a> twins two and +a-half, and Robby in his eleventh month. Four boys, and they kept the +house in commotion from one year's end to another.</p> + +<p>To Juliet's joyful outbursts Estelle answered: "O, it is all very well +just now; I know all about it; but wait until you have four! Why, I +cannot get from the sound of their noise; it rings in my ears now. There +isn't a moment when I am not on the keen jump, expecting some limb to be +broken, some eye to be put out, or some dreadful disease to come around. +I dread the warm season on account of its summer-complaints; and the +cold for its croups, scarlet fevers, measles, and whooping cough. I warn +you, Juliet, you are seeing your happiest days." And Estelle, with a +weary look and dreary tone, took her departure for her luxurious, but +uproarious home.</p> + +<p>"What are <i>you</i> going to do with the baby?" asked Mr. Temple of the +little Althea.</p> + +<p>"I yock it," she answered, placing her hand upon her own small crib, +rocking it to and fro.</p> + +<p>The young mother, excited and nervous, would not heed the Doctor's +cautions to keep herself quiet. Like many another foolish person, she +thought she knew better than any physician could tell her. As a result +of her indiscretion, she was attacked with a long and dangerous illness, +which had nearly proved fatal.</p> + +<p>Upon her recovery, Johnny was three months old; and Juliet began to talk +about having him baptized. The first time she went out to drive she +purchased the finest christening robe she could find. Nothing was too +expensive for such an occasion. For herself also<a class="pagenum" name="page_90" id="page_90" title="90"></a> she obtained an +entirely new outfit. If John could only be induced to go to the +christening! Possibly he might; she would make one more effort.</p> + +<p>One day when he came home at noon she met him smilingly at the door.</p> + +<p>"John, come with me a minute," she said, and led the way up the winding +stairway, into the finest chamber. The bed and every article of +furniture was made to do duty in supporting beautiful and costly +fabrics.</p> + +<p>"What! another wedding to take place?" exclaimed John.</p> + +<p>"The christening of our only child, my dear. See, everything is ready; +just look at this elegant robe, fit for a king's son, but only worthy of +our dear boy. O John, I have only one drawback to all my happiness—if +you would only go with us to St. Mark's!"</p> + +<p>"Juliet, why do you wish our child to be baptized?" inquired John.</p> + +<p>"If you please, say <i>christened</i>. Why, is it not customary? Do not +everybody who are any thing take their children to the church? Indeed, +it is a very grand occasion; I suppose little innocent children are not +admitted at St. Patrick's?"</p> + +<p>"On the contrary, every Catholic child is baptized, even at the most +tender age; but, Juliet, the Catholic mother gives not all her mind to +the child's costly apparel; that is of little consequence compared to +devoting the child to God."</p> + +<p>"That is not the question," spoke Juliet, impatiently. "Will you, or +will you not go with us to St. Mark's?"</p> + +<p>"Juliet, I have something I should tell you. Our<a class="pagenum" name="page_91" id="page_91" title="91"></a> child has been +baptized. I took him myself to the house of Father Duffy several weeks +ago."</p> + +<p>"You did? How dared you?" cried Juliet, angrily.</p> + +<p>"I had the same right to take him to Father Duffy as have you to take +him to Dr. Browne. You were very ill at the time; I did not like to +wait."</p> + +<p>"It doesn't matter at all," cried Juliet, recovering herself, "I will +take him to St. Mark's just the same."</p> + +<p>"You should inform Dr. Browne, however, that the child has been already +baptized."</p> + +<p>"<i>He</i> will not think he has been baptized; but I will tell him, and let +him know how unfairly you have dealt with me."</p> + +<p>Juliet did not know what her husband was aware of, that Dr. Browne, or +any Episcopal clergyman, would consider baptism at the hands of a +Catholic priest as true and valid.</p> + +<p>The Sunday appointed for the christening drew near. On the Saturday +preceding, Juliet called on Dr. Browne. Having largely expatiated upon +her happy anticipations of the morrow, she proceeded to relate to the +rector the march her husband had stolen upon her.</p> + +<p>"And do you not know, Mrs. Temple," said the doctor, surprised, "that, +if your child has been baptized by Father Duffy, that is sufficient? +There is no need for our ceremony to-morrow," and the rector saw in +imagination a handsome fee that failed to reach his grasp.</p> + +<p>"Is it possible," cried Juliet, disappointed and grieved to the heart, +"that you consider baptism in the Catholic Church of any worth +whatsoever?"<a class="pagenum" name="page_92" id="page_92" title="92"></a></p> + +<p>"Most assuredly we do," answered the doctor.</p> + +<p>"But I thought they were idolaters and heathens. How can heathens +baptize?"</p> + +<p>"The Romish was the first Apostolic Church; after many years it imbibed +errors and became corrupt. The Church of which we are members, which +should really be termed Catholic and not Episcopal, came out from her, +retaining her truth, rejecting her errors and superstitions. We maintain +that the Church of Christ must be Apostolic, therefore are compelled to +admit that to have been the true Church from which we sprang. We are +really a branch of the Romish Church, unpalatable as it may be to some +of us."</p> + +<p>Had Juliet given attention to the rector's theology, she would have +remarked that it was giving the Romish Church too much credit. But for +her his words fell idly; she was intent on having her baby christened at +St. Mark's.</p> + +<p>"But, Dr. Browne, nobody knows my baby has been baptized. Cannot the +christening go on just the same?"</p> + +<p>"By no means," spoke the clergyman, decidedly. "It is contrary to +custom, and to the laws of the Church."</p> + +<p>Juliet went home sick at heart. So many preparations, and all for +nothing; so many hopes and dreams, and all blown up like bubbles. In her +grief and confusion the complicated question as to whether her child +were a Catholic or an Episcopalian did not intrude itself.</p> + +<p>She did stop to marvel, however, as to whether her<a class="pagenum" name="page_93" id="page_93" title="93"></a> husband had given +more than one name to the baby. She had intended his second name should +be St. Leger. But her husband was so absent-minded, she presumed to say +that he had forgotten all about it. Upon questioning him he looked up +somewhat confused.</p> + +<p>"I had indeed forgotten your intention. I do remember now of having +heard you speak of St. Leger; I do remember."</p> + +<p>"So you had him christened without a middle name, plain John Temple! I +wonder you didn't go to the length of giving him your own name in full, +John Patrick Temple!"</p> + +<p>"That I did do, my dear; it was my father's name, and I never thought +but what it had been all settled between us."</p> + +<p>This was too much for Juliet's patience, already tried. She stamped her +feet, wrung her hands, and cried aloud despairingly.</p> + +<p>When, at length, able to articulate, she poured upon John Temple's ears +such a shower of words as must have refreshed the very springs of his +nature. She concluded thus:</p> + +<p>"You are the most set, stupid, obstinate man in this world, and selfish +too. It was not enough that I should have given him your old-fashioned, +homely, plain name of John, when Alphonsus, Adolphus, or Rinaldo would +have suited me so much better, but you must put in that low, vulgar, +most hateful of all names—Patrick! A Patrick in our own house, for our +only child! By and bye, he will be going by the name of Pat. <i>My</i> +child—the son of a St. Leger—baptized by a Catholic priest and called +Pat, just like the dozen other infant nobodies he<a class="pagenum" name="page_94" id="page_94" title="94"></a> had baptized the same +day, no doubt. Nothing to distinguish him from the vulgar herd—a paddy +among paddies! O John Temple, I wish I had never seen your face and +eyes!"</p> + +<p>John Temple seized hurriedly his hat, and without a word went out from +the presence of his wife. To say that he was not angry would be untrue. +Above his anger, however, swelled emotions of surprise and wonder. +Surprise and wonder that the beautiful Juliet St. Leger, during six +months of intimate courtship, so successfully could have veiled, under +constant guise of amiability, the weak, pettish nature which she was now +so often exhibiting.</p> + +<p>Of a truth, he had been simple enough to become attracted by her +exceeding beauty of face and figure; but these accidents would never +have held a man of his sterling sense and uprightness had he not been +led to believe it associated with a corresponding beauty of mind and +disposition.</p> + +<p>For a brief while this strong man yielded to an overwhelming sense of +loss and regret. The memory of his excellent mother came back, by +comparison, to increase his painful confusion.</p> + +<p>"My mother, my good mother," he sighed, "noblest and best of Christian +women, for me you died one year too soon. You at least would have read +aright the heart of Juliet. Sainted mother, for thy sake, for all our +sakes, I will do well by Juliet. Since it is as it is, God help me, I +will not fail."</p> + +<p>And Juliet, after the anger had cooled in her heart, and the flush died +out somewhat in her cheek, mused thus:<a class="pagenum" name="page_95" id="page_95" title="95"></a></p> + +<p>"Was ever another such man as John Temple since the days of Job the +patient? There is no satisfaction in scolding him. Not a word will he +say, but march off dignified as any Lord Admiral. A grand way that is of +heaping coals on my head. I wish I could learn to bite my tongue, as I +know he does his. I am really afraid he will come to disrespect and +despise me. Why can not I mend my ways? But it was aggravating, wasn't +it, Johnnie," turning to his babyship, "to give mamma's darling a very, +very horrible name, and have water poured on his sweet little head by a +naughty, wicked, Irish Romish priest. Yes, that it was, Johnnie dear, +and we won't stand it, will we, Johnnie darling?"</p> + +<p>Johnnie signified his concurrence of sentiment by a masterly plunge of +his fat fingers into his precious mamma's curls, which entanglement +caused a rapid "change to come o'er the spirit of her dream."</p> + +<p>The anticipated grand Sunday was spent at home by Juliet, in her own +room. The furniture in the best chamber was still graced by her +unappropriated apparel. The christening robe, heavy with embroidery, +hung as if for a crime from its temporary gallows. Juliet stepped in, +viewing them but an instant, then withdrew, locking the door behind her. +Had she seen the seven hanging heads of Bluebeard's decapitated wives, +she would not have been more pained. She returned to her room to weep +over her poor baby, which she regarded as a martyr. Yes, ill-treated had +he been, contemptuously treated; she could have no more pride in him: +henceforth he would be to her an object of pity.<a class="pagenum" name="page_96" id="page_96" title="96"></a></p> + +<p>Going and returning from Mass that morning, John Temple began to inquire +if he had not indeed rather wronged his wife, in giving that name to the +child, which he knew to be so repugnant to her taste. He would not have +liked his child to be called Luther or Calvin. He had been thoughtless +and stupid to be sure. Reaching home, he sought Juliet. He found her in +her oldest wrapper, her face red with weeping, her hair frightfully +unkempt.</p> + +<p>"Juliet," he began, kindly, "I would never have given Johnnie that +name—"</p> + +<p>"But you did give it to him," interrupted Juliet.</p> + +<p>"I did; but giving very little heed to the name. You were very +dangerously sick. The physician declared you could not live six hours, +unless change took place for the better. The child had been ailing. I +thought of baptism for both of you—to the child it could be given. I +ordered a carriage, put the nurse and child in and drove to Father +Duffy's. I had not thought of the name until asked by the priest. In the +confusion of the moment I gave it as I did. I should not have insisted +on the name had you been with me. It should have been anything you +wished. When he becomes old enough to be confirmed the name can be +changed."</p> + +<p>"His name shall never be written with a P. It shall be written J. St. +Leger Temple. I will get Dr. Browne to put it upon the Registry. Does +Father Duffy record names too?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Temple replying in the affirmative, the young mother became seized +with another spasm of terror.</p> + +<p>"Then Father Duffy believes he has got that child<a class="pagenum" name="page_97" id="page_97" title="97"></a> in the Catholic +Church, I suppose! O, what a fearful piece of work you have made of it! +No doubt, like King Solomon, he will be for dividing the child, that he +may get at least half its soul for purgatory. And if I had died, you +would have brought up dear little Johnnie a Catholic! Your great hurry +for his baptism shows it. That is the regard you would have shown for my +memory! But I am not dead yet; and while I live, the child goes with me +to St Mark's. I will still do all <i>I</i> can to bring him up respectably."</p> + +<p>A day or two after appeared in the city a foreign songstress who was +setting the whole world mad. John Temple took his wife to hear her. She +threw off, as they had been a bundle of straw, all these troubles that +had so crazed her. She unlocked the best chamber, went in, and came out +looking beautiful as when a bride. Among her friends again she appeared +as if no cloud of sorrow had ever darkened her life.</p> + +<p>John Temple recognized his wife again. By these repeated scenes of +sunshine and storm, he learned to rejoice in the one, and to remain +undisturbed in the other; against the exuberance of one to present the +parasol of calmness, and the umbrella of patience to ward off descending +floods.</p> + +<p>Three years later, one winter's evening at tea, the dining-room servant +informed John, upon his inquiring for her mistress, that that lady +wished to see him in the best chamber. He had not seen her since early +in the morning. At dinner he had been told that she was lying down, and +wished not to be disturbed. Having hurried through his tea, he repaired +to the<a class="pagenum" name="page_98" id="page_98" title="98"></a> room designated. The first object that met his view was very +large Mrs. Biggs overflowing the arm-chair, with a roll of white flannel +in her lap, over which Althea and Johnny were absorbingly bending.</p> + +<p>"We've got a baby, papa!" "Mrs. Biggs has brought us a baby!" cried out +the children simultaneously.</p> + +<p>Mr. Temple evinced the greatest surprise, of course, but walked straight +up to his wife. She smiled upon him mischievously, saying:</p> + +<p>"You are surprised to find me here and not in our own room?"</p> + +<p>When the perplexed husband had nodded his head, the wife continued:</p> + +<p>"I wished to be up-stairs for two reasons: the second is because they +say it is a sign that the child who beholds the light for the first time +above stairs will be surely rich; and the first, because—because—O, +John, I have stolen a march on <i>you</i> this time—I wanted Dr. Browne to +be sent for and the christening over with before you should know there +was a baby in the house. Little Flora Isabella Ernestine has been +already christened;" and the wife's eyes were full of triumph.</p> + +<p>"All right," replied John Temple, smiling grimly; and he was fain to +kiss his wife, and to cast a satisfied glance at the "sole daughter of +his house and heart," which was so royally blessed with abundance of +name. In his view the child was not yet baptized, and at a convenient +season he would take it to Father Duffy; but he would not trouble his +wife by disclosing this intention.</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style="margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em"> +<a class="pagenum" name="page_99" id="page_99" title="99"></a> +<a name="NEW_MISTRESS_AT_KENNONS_2818" id="NEW_MISTRESS_AT_KENNONS_2818"></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XIII.</h2> +<h3>NEW MISTRESS AT KENNONS.</h3> +</div> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary="" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto"> +<tr><td>"When a woman will, she will, you may depend on't,</td></tr> +<tr><td>When she won't, she won't, and there's an end on't."</td></tr> +</table> + +<p>Mrs. Jerusha Thornton Rush, from the time of Ellice's death, had firmly +resolved on marrying Duncan Lisle. He, on the other hand, had firmly +resolved never to allow that scheming widow to supplant his lost wife.</p> + +<p>Whether her will was stronger than his, or whether he changed his mind, +it matters not; at the end of three years Mrs. Rush had carried her +point and become Mrs. Lisle—one of the incomprehensibilities which may +be left without comment.</p> + +<p>She had struggled so long and doubtfully for the prize, that, by the +time she had won it, she was disposed to undervalue and despise it.</p> + +<p>"I will make him feel in his turn, when in my power, how charming the +sensation of being spitted or speared!" she had threatened, and she kept +her word.</p> + +<p>"I jist knowed it from de fust," declared Aunt Amy, sorrow and anger in +her tones, and the Indian expression assuming mastery in her face. +"Somehow I jist<a class="pagenum" name="page_100" id="page_100" title="100"></a> felt it all over me dat dat woman would come aroun' +massa and jes make him marry her. She's 'witched him; she's gin him +love-potions, I make no doubt; and I 'spec's"—here she lowered her +voice to a whisper—"I 'spec's she's sold herself to de debil to make +him help her. Nuthin' else could ever 'duced Massa Duncan to marry such +a—such a crocodile. He'll never be sorry but onc't, and 'dats all his +life."</p> + +<p>"Der's an end to all our 'joyment," sighed Chloe, grown more weighty in +flesh; "de Lord knows what's going to become of us—an' all her host o' +bad niggers mixin' in wid our'n, and she domineerin' ober eberyting. O, +it's an orful bad day for us, sure! An', then, that hateful boy o' +her'n—he's worse 'an pizen, notstan'ing his slick, ile-y ways—'tween +him an' her we'll stan' mighty slim chance. She bad's bad can be, an' he +worse."</p> + +<p>China shed tears silently over her needle, giving now and then a groan. +She, too, was haunted by a presentiment that her happy days were over. +For her, Miss Rusha, as all the servants called her, had ever evinced +unconcealed dislike, for the very reason, it would seem, that it irked +her to behold any person in peace and contentment. She especially hated +meek, gentle, uncomplaining people, and loved to render them +uncomfortable. And China, Ellice's favorite house-servant, was so good, +gentle, and obedient, that her former mistress had seldom found fault +with her.</p> + +<p>Mr. Lisle, immediately after his marriage, had taken his bride North on +a visit to the principal cities, intending to call upon the Temples, to +make acquaintance with his loved sister's child.<a class="pagenum" name="page_101" id="page_101" title="101"></a></p> + +<p>His stay at this latter place was short indeed, for Miss Rusha, +presuming to find fault with Juliet's mode of training, or rather of +indulging Althea, had provoked the latter lady's ire to such a degree as +to render any further tarrying out of the question. For some reason or +other, Mrs. Lisle would have persuaded her husband to make an effort for +gaining the guardianship of his niece. This, however, he peremptorily +refused to do, although he became greatly attached to the child, who was +lovely and winning to a remarkable degree.</p> + +<p>Upon the return to Kennons of the newly-married people, a tutor was +secured for the two boys, Thornton and Hubert. It was soon found, +however, that Kennons was not large enough for them both; that they +could not study peaceably in the same room, nor, without a quarrel, at +least in words, exercise upon the same grounds. The tutor was +overwearied with incessant struggles to keep the two from variance. He +advised that one should be sent away, or, if both should be sent, they +should go to different points of the compass. Mrs. Lisle would not +consent for her only child to go away from her; as to Thornton, he +declared he would not be sent away to school. Hubert was more willing, +at home his life was a misery on account of Thornton and his mother; any +other place would be preferable, thought this motherless boy of eleven +years. He was accordingly sent to a Northern school, where, with +intervals of vacation, he spent the next eight years of his life.</p> + +<p>The servants at Kennons had not been mistaken in their calculations. The +new mistress sowed divisions<a class="pagenum" name="page_102" id="page_102" title="102"></a> and discord with a lavish hand. Duncan was +annoyed with complaints against this and that one, until his patience +gave way, and he plainly told his wife that he would not listen to them; +that his servants were uncommonly good until she had come in the midst +of them. Greatly exasperated at this, she treated them still more +harshly. She placed over them her own servants, not out of love for +them, but to humiliate those who had been the faithful servants and +friends of her hated rival, Ellice.</p> + +<p>China was the first victim. She was too ladylike in her deportment, too +quiet and silent in her ways. She was ousted from her low rocker and +favorite window, deprived of her needle, which had in some sort become a +life-companion, and made to do all sorts of drudgery; no settled work, +but hurried from that, this, and the other; never knowing what was +coming next—the hardest kind of work—slavery, indeed.</p> + +<p>China endeavored to do faithfully all that she was bidden; sewing, +however, was her trade; she knew how to do naught else well; she was +consequently chidden and scolded from morning until night.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Lisle's antipathy toward her grew every day more strong. She sought +a cause for having her degraded from the rank of house-servant to +field-hand. She had employed more than one fruitless stratagem.</p> + +<p>China was very fond of oranges. Probably this taste had been cultivated +by her former mistress, who, also, being very partial to the same fruit, +often shared her stores with her favorite servant. Mrs. Lisle became +aware of this. She placed some oranges in the drawer<a class="pagenum" name="page_103" id="page_103" title="103"></a> of her bureau, +and, contrary to custom, ordered China to "set the room to rights."</p> + +<p>Morning after morning the fault-finding mistress counted her oranges, +and, to her disappointment, found not one missing.</p> + +<p>On the fourth morning the fatal drawer was left slightly drawn. As China +passed it with her duster the perfume caught her attention; she peeped +within, and the gleam of the oranges tempted her vision; she gazed at +them as did Eve at the apples; she took one in her hands, and thrust it +to her nose; she said to herself, "My dear Miss Ellice would have given +me some of these; Miss Rusha is too mean for human; perhaps she would +never miss one; if she did, how was she to know who took it?" and +thrusting the orange in her pocket, she finished hastily her work, went +out of sight and sound, and feasted upon the coveted dainty. No sooner +was it devoured than she repented heartily. The serpent had tempted her; +she had yielded; now, when the mischief was done, he called her a fool, +and promised her she should be discovered; he did not tell her how soon; +and though China was filled with fears, she little dreamed that that +very moment her relentless enemy was triumphing over her success.</p> + +<p>"An orange has been stolen from my drawer," exclaimed Miss Rusha, +severely, to the knot of servants summoned together by her order; +"stolen without leave or license," reiterated the angry mistress, +though, in truth, more secretly pleased than angry, "and I am bound to +know who is the offender. A thief shall not remain in this house; and I +here warn<a class="pagenum" name="page_104" id="page_104" title="104"></a> you all that she who proves to be the culprit shall be +condemned to the fields."</p> + +<p>The women and girls sidled about, grinning, ogling each other with +swimming eyes. China, however, was an exception; she looked neither to +the right nor left, but trembled, and was downcast. It flashed over her +quick mind instantly that for her a trap had been deliberately laid, and +she had stepped straight into it.</p> + +<p>China had heretofore prided herself upon her truthfulness and honesty; +to this she had been trained by the best of mistresses; and if there was +aught on earth she despised it was a deceitful, thieving servant. O, how +had she fallen!</p> + +<p>Buried in her own painful emotions, China had not noticed that the +question put to and denied by the others was now addressed to her.</p> + +<p>"Do you not hear? Are you deaf and dumb, China, that you do not answer +me? Speak, now! Did you, or did you not, steal this orange?"</p> + +<p>Thus suddenly aroused from this painful reverie to confront the angered +eyes of the mistress she both feared and hated, she hesitated, then +said, in a low tone, but defiantly:</p> + +<p>"<i>I did not.</i>"</p> + +<p>At that moment China hated herself more than her mistress, and glanced +helplessly around, as if for some fig-leaf beneath which to hide.</p> + +<p>"You did not!" repeated the mistress slowly and with emphasis, fastening +upon the poor girl her merciless eyes. "You say you did not; all the +servants say they did not. We will see."<a class="pagenum" name="page_105" id="page_105" title="105"></a></p> + +<p>Mrs. Lisle produced a tiny paper from her pocket, and emptied its +powdered contents into half a wine-glass of water; stirring the mixture, +she gave a spoonful to each suspected person, and then ordered them to +stand in a row in the back-yard.</p> + +<p>This cruel woman watched to see the sable faces turned to a deathly +yellow; ipecacuanha was a successful rack and torture. To all, however, +but to China, did the consciousness of innocence afford alleviation. +Fresh pieces of peel ejected from her stomach gave ample witness as to +who had purloined the orange. All her companions were surprised, some +grieved, some rejoiced; for</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary="" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto"> +<tr><td>"Base Envy withers at another's joy,</td></tr> +<tr><td>And hates that excellence it cannot reach."</td></tr> +</table> + +<p>"It is well for pride to have a fall," said one.</p> + +<p>"She thought herself so much better'n all the rest on us," quoth +another.</p> + +<p>"I allus thought she wa'nt no better'n she should be, for all her +puttin' on such airs," spoke a third contemptuously.</p> + +<p>"She won't find no rocking-chair, nor no time to sing love-songs, nor +make herself bows and fine lady fixins out in de corn and 'bacco patch. +Heigho!" crowed Dinah.</p> + +<p>Amy's Indian eyes swam in tears, and she and the mighty Chloe cast +pitiful glances at their disgraced companion.</p> + +<p>"She never did it of her own 'cord," thought the shrewd Amy; "Miss Rusha +jes threw on her her spell;<a class="pagenum" name="page_106" id="page_106" title="106"></a> she 'witched her as she did Massa; she made +her go do it; she jes did now, so!"</p> + +<p>"You will not enter the house again," said Mrs. Lisle to the proved +culprit. "My Jane will bring your things from Aunt Amy's cabin, which +she has allowed you to occupy—you are never to let me see you about the +place again—never—or you will rue the day. I will see Mr. Fuller, the +overseer, who will assign you a place. Now go, deceitful thief and +liar—your punishment is but too mild."</p> + +<p>China, in going out from the home of her master, would fain have gone +around by the grave of Ellice. But, besides thinking she might be +watched, she felt in her disgrace too unworthy to kneel upon that sacred +soil.</p> + +<p>So, scarcely able to hold herself upright, which she must needs do, in +order to support her bundle upon her head, she walked wearily onward, +from the fair white house of Kennons, down the well-worn path that led +to the rude, unsightly cabins of the field-hands, still more rude.</p> + +<p>She was still weak, and suffering from effects of the harsh emetic, and +this, with her shame and sorrow at her crime, more than her banishment, +rendered her hopeless and wretched.</p> + +<p>Duncan Lisle was riding slowly homeward from a consultation with his +overseer. Whose was that reeling, swaying figure in the path before him? +Not China of pleasant face, of quiet speech and mien? No, and yes. What +could it mean? What mortal sickness of mind or body had wrought such +ghastly woe in the face but yesterday so placid?<a class="pagenum" name="page_107" id="page_107" title="107"></a></p> + +<p>"Are you China, or China's ghost?" questioned he, drawing rein as he +came up to this favorite house-servant.</p> + +<p>"You have said it, master Duncan; I am but the ghost of poor China," and +the ponderous bundle dropped first to the horse's nose and then at his +forefeet, while her face fell into her trembling hands, her tears +flowing down through her fingers, the first that she had shed.</p> + +<p>"Tell me all about it, China—but the sun is hot, come under the shade +of this tree," and the master led the way to an umbrageous beech close +by. There, still resting upon his horse, while China leaned against the +enormous trunk, the story was told of the day's doings without +exaggeration or extenuation.</p> + +<p>Though it was a clear story of theft and falsehood, Duncan Lisle +naturally took the same view of it as had the humble Amy. The master of +Kennons had not been ignorant of his wife's systematic persecution of +this inoffensive servant. He had more than once spoken to her on the +subject—but finding he had but made the matter worse, ceased to +interfere. Now, he suspected China to be the victim of a successful +plot. His wife had made a bold move, and without his sanction. A more +fiery man, yielding to indignation and to a sense of the injustice +wrought, would have taken China home again, saying to his wife both by +word and action, that he was still master in his own house, and of his +own servants. But Duncan Lisle knew that life for China at the house was +over. She had been long enough suffering incessant martyrdom<a class="pagenum" name="page_108" id="page_108" title="108"></a> under the +heavy sway of the new mistress. Yes, it would be better for her to go +away. He regarded her pityingly; then that emotion was quickly reflected +from her to himself.</p> + +<p>"<i>She</i> can go away—<i>she</i> can find happiness elsewhere. O, is there not +somewhere in the wide world a place of beautiful peace?" groaned the +unhappy man to himself, while his eyes wandered involuntarily toward the +white column that gleamed in the sunlight nearly a mile distant. By an +effort the master recovered himself.</p> + +<p>"So she has sent you down to be with Bet, and Nan, and Kizzie, and Sam, +Jake, Jim, and all those fellows? You can't live there a month. Would +you like your freedom, China? Would you like to go to Richmond—you +could get plenty of places, either as nurse or seamstress?"</p> + +<p>"O, master Duncan, I should die if I had to leave Kennons"—for this +first thought of complete separation from all she had known and loved +was intolerable.</p> + +<p>"You can try it then down yonder. I will ride down to-night or +to-morrow, and speak to Mr. Fuller. You can be thinking it over. You +have been a good girl—I owe you something. If you can't stand it +there—and I know you can't—I will give you papers of manumission and +money to take you to Richmond. You have a close mouth—do not speak of +this. Well, keep up heart and God bless you."</p> + +<p>The master and servant parted—the one to ride wearily to his unpeaceful +home, the other to journey along more hopefully to the shadeless cabins +in the fields.</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style="margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em"> +<a class="pagenum" name="page_109" id="page_109" title="109"></a> +<a name="CHINA_UNCLE_MATS_PRAYER_MEETING_3109" id="CHINA_UNCLE_MATS_PRAYER_MEETING_3109"></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XIV.</h2> +<h3>CHINA—UNCLE MAT'S PRAYER MEETING.</h3> +</div> + +<p>Compared to the field-hands, who were little more than heathen and +barbarian, our favorite China was a princess. One day and night among +them proved to the unhappy girl that her master was in the right—she +could not live with them. If she had met with suspicion, jealousy, and +envy beneath her master's roof, she could not expect to escape it in her +new home, where ignorance and all the baser passions ruled.</p> + +<p>Toward night on the following day, which was Saturday, the master +appeared at the cabins. He found China weeping disconsolately in the +shade of a tree. So profoundly was she buried in her grief, she saw not +her master until she heard his voice. For many hours had she watched his +coming. When she had ceased to look for him, his kind voice aroused her +to a momentary gladness.</p> + +<p>"O, Master Duncan! Master Duncan!" was all she could utter.</p> + +<p>"Bad enough, yes; I knew how it would be; I knew you would be willing to +leave Kennons after you had tried this. I have just returned from Flat +Rock;<a class="pagenum" name="page_110" id="page_110" title="110"></a> have had all the papers made for you; China, you are a free +woman!"</p> + +<p>"O, Master Duncan! good Master Duncan!" was all she could say again.</p> + +<p>"Here, China, this is probably the last present I shall ever make you," +handing to her a portmonnaie containing a few pieces of silver and gold, +as also the invaluable papers of manumission. He withdrew it again as +she was extending her hand, remarking:</p> + +<p>"It is better, however, that it should be in the hands of Mr. Fuller. He +is to go with you to-night to Flat Rock. You will remain at the 'Bald +Eagle' until the train passes on Monday. You could remain at Petersburg +if you chose, but my friends at Richmond can help you. I have written +them, and they will see you properly cared for. Mr. Fuller will hand you +this"—referring to the portmonnaie—"and you must guard it carefully. +It is not sufficient that you carry it in your pocket; you should +secrete it in some part of your dress, fastening it securely. You have a +needle and thread? Well, then, do as I have told you. Be a good +girl—honest and truthful; when I come to Richmond I will see you. +There, don't cry now; you can yet be happy. I must have another talk +with Fuller;"—seeing that personage approaching—"I shall not see you +again; take care of yourself, and good-bye;"—and the master stretched +down his hand—for he was still on horseback—which China grasped and +presumed to kiss.</p> + +<p>"There, that will do, my good girl; and don't forget what your Miss +Ellice taught you."<a class="pagenum" name="page_111" id="page_111" title="111"></a></p> + +<p>This unusual reference to her former mistress was another stab for poor +China. As her master rode away, she threw herself down upon the ground, +making mournful moans that might have softened the hardest heart.</p> + +<p>The field-hands, coming up from work an hour later, beheld with rage and +dismay the intended victim of their malice mounted upon one of the +fleetest horses upon the plantation, and Mr. Fuller all ready to mount +another. He was but waiting to give additional orders to this unruly +gang. This being done, each equestrian gave a slight stroke of the whip, +and the horses galloped away from a hundred staring eyes.</p> + +<p>"Let us fling a stone at her," said one.</p> + +<p>"Let us set up a mighty howl," suggested a second.</p> + +<p>"And git a mighty floggin' for yer pains," sneered a third, who was +possessed of a grain of discretion.</p> + +<p>China's heart lightened as she left the cabins and the intolerable red +sands upon which they were situated. It was not the first time she had +seen the uncouth faces and forms of the motley group who had been +vengefully regarding her; but their appearance had seemed doubly +appalling when viewed in the light of being her associates for life. Out +of their sight she breathed freely again, and coming shortly into the +main road, a feeling almost of joy seized her.</p> + +<p>"I will not weep or be sad any more. I will leave the old life behind +me, and Miss Rusha too, thank the Lord. Ah, poor Master Duncan! what a +life he must live of it—the best master that ever servant had—good, +kind Master Duncan! The trees hide Kennons from<a class="pagenum" name="page_112" id="page_112" title="112"></a> view; I shall not see +it again. I would liked to have said farewell to Bessie, and to Chloe +and Amy, and to Miss Rusha's Kizzie, too. I wonder if I ever shall see +one of them any more;" and in spite of her resolution not to cry, China +was obliged to wipe the tears that blinded her eyes.</p> + +<p>Mr. Fuller was a model overseer. Nobody knew from what quarter of the +world he had hailed. He had been overseer for Duncan Lisle during seven +years, and no one had ever heard him allude to any antecedents. He was a +silent, reserved man of fifty years, perhaps, possessed good judgment, +discerning sense of right and wrong, was inflexibly just, and invariably +faithful to his word.</p> + +<p>Duncan Lisle might well felicitate himself upon having secured so +invaluable an assistant. He had never found, and was never expecting to +find, his confidence misplaced. Trust begets trust, and master and +overseer had become excellent friends.</p> + +<p>Mr. Fuller had, however, a history of his own, but it lay away in +England, where he prudently resolved to let it remain forever buried. +For China he discharged his mission faithfully, exchanging with her only +indispensable words, and, confiding to her care the precious +portmonnaie, bade adieu both to her and to the "Bald Eagle," returning +to Kennons after midnight.</p> + +<p>China formed a pleasant acquaintance with the servants of the "Bald +Eagle," and passed her Sunday very agreeably. At night she was invited +to attend Uncle Mat's prayer-meeting. Uncle Mat was a personage<a class="pagenum" name="page_113" id="page_113" title="113"></a> of +importance, not only in his own estimation, but in that of many others. +His master was a drunken fellow, who had squandered most of his +substance. By degrees he had lost the greater part of his plantation, +had sold the most of his servants, his wife had died, children married +and gone, and but for Mat he would have gone to utter ruin long ago. It +was Mat who interfered in bloody quarrels, receiving blows and +vituperations himself; it was Mat who walked by his master's side from +elections, fairs, shows, etc., steadying him when he reeled, picking him +up when he fell, dragging him from horses' feet and drunken men's +knives, and keeping the breath of life in him by sheer watchfulness and +unflagging exertion.</p> + +<p>In return for this devotion, the master, Dick Rogers, gave but abuse of +hand and tongue. But Uncle Mat was a Christian. He had a gift at prayer +and exhortation. He could read, strange to say, and sing, of course. Mat +was older than his master. Dick had been an only son, petted and +spoiled. Mat had been his body-servant from his babyhood. Dick's father, +upon his dying bed, had exacted from Mat a promise that he would always +have a care for his reckless son. Mat had fulfilled his vow. Mat had +learned to read by hearing the governess teach Dick. To shame the latter +into diligence, it was a habit with Miss Train to call up the black boy, +who exhibited more capacity and willingness than her pupil.</p> + +<p>The servant was of a serious, reflective turn of mind. He became +converted at a Methodist camp-meeting, and as he became a kind of +preacher among his own<a class="pagenum" name="page_114" id="page_114" title="114"></a> people, he staid converted. He had one fault, to +speak not of others. He was irascible to a great degree; a mosquito or a +flea would drive him into a passion. But throughout his long career as +guardian of his master, he had been never known to lose patience with +him. Even mothers become vexed exceedingly with undutiful children; but +this care of Mat for his worthless master exceeded even that of a mother +for her child. Exceeded? Nay, we will say equalled.</p> + +<p>It was somewhat rare in the slave States for servants to meet for +religious purposes; insurrection might brood under such a cover. Mat, +however, was so well known and so universally esteemed in his +neighborhood, that he was allowed to hold his prayer-meetings every +Sunday night.</p> + +<p>It was to one of these that China went with her new-made friends. Nancy +Carter's cabin was the meeting-house <i>pro tem</i>. It had been prepared for +the occasion by an elaborate trimming of oak leaves and green boughs. +Bouquets of flowers were interspersed with lights upon the preacher's +stand. This invasion against white people's customs was due probably to +the intense love which Afric's sons and daughters have for the +"beautiful flowers."</p> + +<p>Mat, tall and dignified always, seemed magnified in proportions and +dignity when installed behind his stand of flowers and lights. His +initial proceeding was invariably a great flourish of his white cotton +handkerchief.</p> + +<p>If Mat had a source of vanity deeper than another, it was of this +above-mentioned article; and this, too,<a class="pagenum" name="page_115" id="page_115" title="115"></a> was so well known of him, that +most of his presents consisted of handkerchiefs. He had, among his +deposits, a good-sized box full of these useful and ornamental +inventions. There was one from Lucy and Lizzie, four Sallies, three +Dinahs, three Betties, two or three Janes, as many Anns, and hosts of +others too numerous to mention. And every one of those donors looked +steadily at the flourish of the preacher, if happily her own gift had +come to the coveted honor.</p> + +<p>The first prayer consisted of very large words very fervently uttered. +This was comparatively brief, as a lengthy one for the whole world was +to follow the first hymn.</p> + +<p>Mat had adopted, of course, the custom of his superiors in the matter of +singing. He read from the book the first two lines of the hymn, which +the congregation seized and sung to the best of their ability. Two lines +more were read, when music of voice, if not of words, became +distinguishable.</p> + +<p>Upon this occasion the preacher seemed troubled with unusual +indistinctness of vision. He took his glasses from his nose more than +once, violently rubbing them with his spotless handkerchief. Taking up +his book for the third time, his eyes or his spectacles seemed still to +be at fault. Perplexed and irritated, he exclaimed, unguardedly:</p> + +<p>"Dog-gone-it! my eyes are dim; I cannot see to read this hymn."</p> + +<p>The congregation supposing it all right, tuned up, and repeated it, +though one would have been at great loss to make sense out of the +myriad-syllabled confusion.<a class="pagenum" name="page_116" id="page_116" title="116"></a></p> + +<p>The preacher, surprised, attempted to explain. He said energetically, +book still in hand:</p> + +<p>"I did not mean to sing that hymn, I only meant my eyes were dim."</p> + +<p>The simple people, still supposing the hymn to be continued, again +poured forth volumes of sound.</p> + +<p>In vain the preacher gesticulated, stamped, and threatened. So varied +usually were the performances, this was thought to be but part of the +programme. When the music hushed again the preacher cried:</p> + +<p>"The devil must be in you all, that is no hymn to sing at all!"</p> + +<p>Were those black people wilfully stupid? By no means. They did not know +but they were doing as they had always done. The hymn-book was Greek to +them, words were words; therefore they took up Uncle Mat's last words as +innocently as if they had been</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary="" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto"> +<tr><td>"On Jordan's stormy banks I stand,</td></tr> +<tr><td>And cast a wishful eye."</td></tr> +</table> + +<p>Uncle Mat's patience gave out completely; he hurled his book at the +musical leader's head:</p> + +<p>"Dere, now see if ye can stop yer 'fernal noise. What bizness yer sing +dat? Dats nothin' for to sing. You don't know nothin'. You biggest heap +o' wooly heads I eber did see. Was der eber such a pack o' +ignerant-ramuses eber in dis world afore? I answer 'firmatively—no! +What's de use o' temptin' to preach to sich people? Dey wouldn't know if +one was to rise from de dead. Not know de diff'rence 'tween psalm tunes +an nuffin else! Dis people be dismissed."<a class="pagenum" name="page_117" id="page_117" title="117"></a></p> + +<p>The latter sentence was pronounced most disdainfully. The chorister, +with head unbroken, and temper unruffled, arose and begged they might +all be forgiven their heedlessness; it would be so great a +disappointment to have the meeting broken up so prematurely, it would +give them great pleasure if Uncle Mat would be <i>so</i> kind as to dispense +with singing and proceed to prayers and exhortations. One or two other +prominent members followed in much the same strain, flattering the +indignant preacher by making special reference to his eloquence and +popularity.</p> + +<p>This had the desired effect. Uncle Mat became mollified, and wiping the +angry perspiration from his brow, he embarked upon his longest +prayer—during which our China and many others fell fast asleep.</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style="margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em"> +<a class="pagenum" name="page_118" id="page_118" title="118"></a> +<a name="KIZZIE_3354" id="KIZZIE_3354"></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XV.</h2> +<h3>KIZZIE.</h3> +</div> + +<p>"Lucy," said Mrs. Lisle, to a dwarfed child of thirteen years, who was +one of those creatures expected to "run two ways at once," "run, Lucy, +and tell Kizzie to come straight here to me."</p> + +<p>The winged child came speedily back, accompanied by the weaver, a stolid +looking old negress named Kizzie.</p> + +<p>"Kizzie," exclaimed her mistress, "I know you have stolen the cover to +that barrel that has been standing for so long outside the store-room."</p> + +<p>"What for should I want wid de cover, Missis?" inquired the servant.</p> + +<p>"That is for you to tell, and right soon too—do you hear me?"</p> + +<p>"I have never touched the cover, Missis."</p> + +<p>"I do not believe you. Who has then?"</p> + +<p>"Sure, an' I doesn't know. You allus lays eberyting on to me, Missis, +when I'se jes as in'cent—"</p> + +<p>"I wish to hear none of your palaver. You have stolen from me +repeatedly; you know you have been just as hateful as you could be ever +since—ever since Joe went away."<a class="pagenum" name="page_119" id="page_119" title="119"></a></p> + +<p>Mrs. Lisle had not designed this reference to Joe. Any mention of his +name only made Kizzie more intractable.</p> + +<p>Kizzie had been standing upon the threshold of her mistress' chamber, +upon which she now sank down as if she had been shot. She had rolled +herself into a ball, her grey head buried in her lap, from which issued +the most protracted unearthly howl. This was succeeded by passionate +ejaculations, in which "my poor Joe—my poor dear Joe, my baby—my last +and only one"—were alone distinguishable.</p> + +<p>"Kizzie, stop that acting, and get up from there," commanded Mrs. Lisle.</p> + +<p>The ball swayed to and fro, but evinced no disposition for unbending.</p> + +<p>"Bring me the whip, Lucy—we shall see."</p> + +<p>The blows fell heavy and fast, but as for outward demonstration, cry or +moan, that human form might as well have been a cotton bale.</p> + +<p>The wearied hand of the mistress dropped by her side. She leaned against +the casement panting for breath. Then Kizzie uprose tearless and stern.</p> + +<p>"Miss Rusha, after this cruel floggin', I've a right to speak; but if +you had a human heart I would not have this much to say. One after +another ye sold my four big boys to the slave-buyer. You promised you +would leave me my baby—my Joe. When he was fourteen years old you sold +him too. You rob me of my five boys, and you 'cuse <i>me</i> of stealin' a +barrel-cover! Miss Rusha, de judgments of de Lord will come upon you. +Dis is my prayer, ebery day, ebery hour. Ye may whip,<a class="pagenum" name="page_120" id="page_120" title="120"></a> ye may kill—my +prayer is mine own prayer to pray."</p> + +<p>"Lucy," exclaimed Mrs. Lisle, now able again to speak, "run down to +Thornton Hall and tell Mr. Hill to come here at once."</p> + +<p>Mr. Hill was Mrs. Lisle's overseer.</p> + +<p>"You will do no such thing, Lucy; and, madam, you have done enough," +said the indignant voice of Mr. Lisle, who had entered upon the scene. +"Go to your cabin, Kizzie; call for Amy and take her along with you."</p> + +<p>Kizzie disappeared, and Mr. Lisle, meeting boldly the angered face of +his wife, inquired into the origin of this disgraceful scene.</p> + +<p>"Kizzie is mine, not yours. I have a right to do with my slaves as +pleases me," said the wife.</p> + +<p>"If you have a slave who deserves kindness at your hands, it is Kizzie. +You have cruelly wronged her. To have killed her outright would have +been a kindness compared to the injury you have inflicted upon her."</p> + +<p>"How you talk, Duncan Lisle! One would think you a northern abolitionist. +I understand whence you imbibed such principles"—sneeringly—"just as +though one has not a perfect right to sell a slave if he wishes to! +Don't talk to me in any such way. I have done nothing that I need be +sorry for. But Kizzie is indeed the most hateful slave on the +plantation. I believe she steals just for the sake of stealing. What +earthly use could she have for that cover, which she denies having +taken, but which has mysteriously disappeared just when I happened to +want it?"<a class="pagenum" name="page_121" id="page_121" title="121"></a></p> + +<p>"To what cover do you refer?" questioned her husband.</p> + +<p>He was informed.</p> + +<p>"I saw some little black fellows rolling something of the kind back of +the stables this morning. Lucy, go hunt them up, and have the cover +found. Is such a trifle sufficient to drive you into a passion, in which +you accuse and punish an innocent person wrongfully?"</p> + +<p>"I repeat to you, Mr. Lisle, that I shall do as I please with my own +servants, and yours too, as you will find, and <i>have</i> found, I should +think. Moreover, I am not going to be lectured by you as if I were a +child"—Mrs. Lisle flung herself out of the room, to vent her bad humor +upon whatever ill-starred persons should cross her path.</p> + +<p>To do justice to Mrs. Lisle, she had intended to have sold both Kizzie +and her son to the same buyer. As she herself said, she was always +having trouble with Kizzie. There were times when she was positively +afraid of her. Just before the proposed sale she had had a serious +difficulty with her. Mistress and servant regarded each other as two +enraged tigers might do, whenever they met. Mrs. Lisle made up her mind +she would have Kizzie taken to the Court House and sold. Court was to be +holden in a week or so; at such a time more or less slaves were put up +at auction.</p> + +<p>Kizzie was not sorry when informed of the proposed plan; though she +shared, with others of her class, a horror of being "sold South," she +had come to think<a class="pagenum" name="page_122" id="page_122" title="122"></a> she could not possibly fall into more cruel hands. +Besides, in that region so terrible to the imagination of the slaves, +she might come across one or all of her lost sons! At any rate, she +would be beneath the same sky, and the dear hope of meeting them would +be a continual comfort.</p> + +<p>A whole day was consumed by Tippy—her real name was Xantippe—in +plucking out Aunt Kizzie's grey hairs, and in fixing her up to appear to +the best advantage for youth and sprightliness. She was only sixty, but +hard labor and severe usage had told upon her heavily.</p> + +<p>Aunt Kizzie, in her new linsey-woolsey and shining bandana as a turban, +started off in great glee for the Court House. That she might appear +there fresh, brisk, and pert, she was not suffered to walk, but +Washington, the coachman, was ordered to drive her in the ark of the +plantation wagon. Joe, smart, smiling, and newly-equipped in clothes, +sat by her side, scarcely knowing whether he had best share in his +mother's uncommon gaiety, or yield to his own anxious misgiving.</p> + +<p>Another thing contributed to Aunt Kizzie's happiness. All the way to the +Court House she was at perfect liberty to caress her nosegay of pinks +and camomile. Kizzie had two grand passions; one was for her children, +the other for her fragrant pinks. If she was allowed a garden patch the +size of a hat-crown, it was devoted to her favorite flowers. She was +wont to have her loom festooned with them; she drank in their perfume as +did her web its woof; by night she<a class="pagenum" name="page_123" id="page_123" title="123"></a> had them scattered over her pillow, +that, even in sleep, she might not lose their presence.</p> + +<p>"I should think pinks would grow out of her nose," the servants were in +the habit of remarking. It really often looked like they did, for, +morning and evening, at her milking, her nose, instead of her hand, +served as bouquet-holder.</p> + +<p>Over the rough roads then, from Thornton Hall to the Court House, her +attention was devoted to Joe and her pinks. She was to be sold—that was +true—but then she had left a hated mistress. She had with her all she +loved, her immense nosegay, her baby Joe, and, in her small bundle, her +one pair of ruffled pillow-slips. She was starting out in the world +again, and the world looked to her unaccountably new and beautiful.</p> + +<p>It was morning now that shone upon Aunt Kizzie and her child. But night +came, utterly dark and cheerless night, to both mother and boy. The two +were put upon the block together. The boy showed for himself. But the +sexagenarian human chattel was mercilessly scrutinized. She was made to +sing, dance, and run. Her red turban was torn off, and in spite of the +hirsutian manipulations to which she had been subjected, her wool +appeared, like Shakspeare's spirits, mixed, black, white, and grey.</p> + +<p>She was seized by the nose and chin, as if she had been a horse, and +made to distend her jaws even painfully. She experienced a qualm or two +when she thought of what a story her few remaining broken teeth would +tell. Still, like the world and all the<a class="pagenum" name="page_124" id="page_124" title="124"></a> "rest of mankind," she had +never fully realized that she had passed her prime and her usefulness.</p> + +<p>This purchaser did not want her, nor did that, nor alas! the other! Each +and every one were eager for the boy. The auctioneer's instructions had +been to sell the two together, if possible, if not, at all events to +sell the boy, as he would command a good price, and <i>money must be</i> +raised.</p> + +<p>Kizzie went wild when she saw her boy knocked off to a man who refused +to take her, even as a gift!</p> + +<p>O angels in heaven, what pitiful sights do ye not behold upon this earth +of ours! Had ye no drop of balm from your vials of tender mercy to pour +into the desolate heart of the stricken slave-mother, as she returned +homeward in the dark, clutching frantically at her withered pinks, as +did the talons of the vulture of grief at her wounded heart!</p> + +<p>This blow to poor Kizzie occurred about the time of her mistress' +marriage. The price of her agony, the money obtained for Joe, was sent +to New York, and returned to Mrs. Rush in glittering jewels. Had this +haughty woman been capable of realizing her sin, the showy baubles would +have melted in the fiery furnace of her shame and contrition.</p> + +<p>Kizzie became a changed woman; crazed, as some thought. Joe had been her +baby, and her baby still at fourteen. How could her baby get along +without his mother? This was the burden of her complaint, her unceasing +utterance of sorrow. And still she lived on, sitting from morning until +night at her loom, her tear of sorrow or sigh of despair inwoven<a class="pagenum" name="page_125" id="page_125" title="125"></a> with +every thread, and from her bleeding heart going up the incessant prayer +for Heaven's vengeance upon her persecutor.</p> + +<p>One day, not far off, shall it not be more tolerable for Kizzie than for +the beautiful mistress of Thornton Hall?</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style="margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em"> +<a class="pagenum" name="page_126" id="page_126" title="126"></a> +<a name="TIME_AND_CHANGE_3560" id="TIME_AND_CHANGE_3560"></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XVI.</h2> +<h3>TIME AND CHANGE.</h3> +</div> + +<p>Time and change! Why add the latter word? Doth not the former include +all? Doth not time sadly overcome all things?</p> + +<p>And this Time, which, according to Sir Thomas Brown, sitteth on a +sphinx, and looketh into Memphis and old Thebes, which reclineth on a +pyramid, gloriously triumphing, making puzzles of Titanian erections, +and turning old glories into dreams—or something to that effect. This +old Father Time, so much abused, misused, has given ten years to +Kennons, ten years to Philip and his second wife in the far away homes +of the Mussulman, ten years to the little Althea, who has bloomed into a +beautiful girl of fourteen, beneath the roof of her loving guardians, +John and Juliet Temple.</p> + +<p>Ten years! and the fiery war of words has been followed by the deadlier +fire of arms; civil war has raged over the sunny South, destroyed loving +homes, mutilated fair forms, blotted out countless lives, and sent +multitudes of souls unshriven before their Maker; but thanks be to God, +riveted bonds have been broken and the slave hath been set free! Grand +as was the sacrifice, infinite was the gain.<a class="pagenum" name="page_127" id="page_127" title="127"></a></p> + +<p>"I thought," said Amy, when she stood on her mount of Pisgah, rolling up +her melancholy eyes to the heaven, whence her deliverance had come, "I +thought it would come some time, to our children, or our children's +children, but not in my time, and to me! Moses was in de wilderness +forty years; for what should I tink dat de Lord would gib us our liberty +sooner'n to his own faithful servant? And we to have our'n in four +years! But I knew it would come some time, sure as was a God in heaven. +Hadn't we been prayin' and prayin', an' beseechin', an' how could de +Lord stan' de prayers of such 'pressed, trodden people as we? Bress de +Lord, O my soul, an' all dat is in me!"</p> + +<p>Thousands like Amy sang their songs of deliverance. And like her, they +arose from the sad waters of their Babylon, took their harps from the +willows, seeking out joyfully new ways to lands of promise.</p> + +<p>Those persons who had been kind, nay, even moderately just to their +servants, were not at once abandoned. Some for months, some for years, +were still faithfully served for hire. As a rule, however, the freed +people scattered; but they went not far from their life-long homes. An +innate love for early scenes and associations kept them where they might +occasionally visit familiar persons and places.</p> + +<p>Duncan Lisle was now a grave man of fifty. Threads of silver shone in +his dark hair, but his tall form was erect and graceful as ever. He had +become, in manner and speech, exceedingly reserved; his countenance wore +almost habitually a melancholy, thoughtful expression.<a class="pagenum" name="page_128" id="page_128" title="128"></a> There were +times, however, when his still attractive face lighted up with the old +smile; and that smile revealed a gentle, noble spirit, still retaining +its freshness unchafed by the carking cares and vexatious trials to +which he had been daily subject. While to some men association with so +peculiar and trying a nature as Rusha Thornton's might have brought +moroseness and all unloveliness, Duncan Lisle, like the philosopher of +hemlock fame, had turned his wife's shrewishness into a coat of armor, +within which he preserved his soul serene, contemplative, and peaceful. +This is saying very much for Duncan Lisle.</p> + +<p>During the stormy period to which we have just referred, when the nation +was in her throes of anguish, Mr. Lisle remained loyal to the +Government. Aside from reason, common-sense, and humanity, he had seen +more than enough in his wife's treatment of servants to disgust him with +slavery. Though he took no active part, and, except when occasion +required, preserved his usual reticence upon this subject also, he was +nevertheless heart and soul upon the one side.</p> + +<p>It is needless to observe that his wife was upon the other extreme. The +idea of slavery was grateful to her intolerant nature. For herself she +acknowledged no superior. The very God Almighty of Heaven she never took +into <i>her</i> account. Had she been Lucifer among the angels, she too would +have rebelled. Had she been daughter of Servius Tullius, she would have +ridden over the dead body of her father. The golden rule was for others +to practice, not for her; its Divine Author, the God-Man, was beyond her +comprehension;<a class="pagenum" name="page_129" id="page_129" title="129"></a> His teachings fit but for underlings and slaves. Though +scorning and hating the slave, she clung to slavery as if it were her +life's blood. She poured forth all the venom of her nature upon the +Northern foe, which was aiming to seize this petted horror from her +grasp. She recalled often the tyrant's wish; like him would have given +worlds had the subjects of Yankeedom but a single neck, that she might +sever the Gorgonian head at one happy stroke.</p> + +<p>She went almost wild upon the subject, and was the more violent that she +could not draw her husband into her views. It was not enough that he +should listen with apparent patience to her harangues, she demanded his +verbal assent to her opinions. His silence, his attempts at evasion, +provoked her equally as his firmly expressed disapproval. Nothing could +satisfy her.</p> + +<p>The marching of soldiers came even upon the grounds of Kennons. At times +the noise and smoke of battle filled the atmosphere, as had the direful +cholera thirty years before.</p> + +<p>Rusha Lisle would have turned Kennons into an hospital for Southern +soldiers. Even when her husband, hiding for his life, was hunted and +dogged by rebel soldiers, her hand fed them with food; <i>her</i> hand that +was never known to be stretched forth in charity to the deserving; nay, +the roof, forbidden by prowling rebels to shelter its master, was +proffered to his enemies by its dishonored mistress.</p> + +<p>When tried beyond reason, Duncan Lisle arose in his wrath and asserted +his mastery. Well might any true woman have quailed before that +uprising, but not<a class="pagenum" name="page_130" id="page_130" title="130"></a> Rusha Thornton Lisle. A woman weaker-minded would +have packed her silver, gathered her valuables, and fled to Thornton +Hall, where she might harbor her dear rebels <i>ad infinitum</i>. This +strong-minded woman well knew that by such a course of action she would +be pleasing everybody but herself. She was not so fond of conferring +happiness, nor so capable of self-sacrifice. So she continued to wage +war within her household, more constantly vexatious to her husband, more +tyrannous to her servants.</p> + +<p>What added to Mrs. Lisle's bitterness was the conduct of her son. At the +opening of hostilities, he had joined a rebel company, inflated with the +idea that in a few weeks, or months at farthest, the Northern "mudsills" +would be overwhelmed and out of sight. No one, except his mother, had +talked louder and faster than himself. With his single hand he could +slay a dozen of the cowardly Yankees.</p> + +<p>After all this bravado, at the first smell of gunpowder, Thornton Rush +threw down his firearms in a panic and ran as if from a sweeping tempest +of fire and brimstone. Sleeping by day in hollow logs, traveling by +night with haste and stealth, he made his way to the hated Northern +lines, went as fast as cars could carry him to New York city, and, on a +flying steamer, sneaked to Europe. There, once landed, he wrote his +mother a letter. She had thought him dead, and mourned him proudly, as +for a hero fallen for his country. She half read his letter, and threw +it into the fire. Not dead, but a poltroon, a coward! She stamped her +foot with contempt. <i>Her</i> son to lack<a class="pagenum" name="page_131" id="page_131" title="131"></a> courage?—<i>her</i> son a deserter +from his post? She, woman as she was, would have gone into battle with +the courage of a Cæsar, the constancy of a Hannibal; but this son of +hers, in whose veins flowed the cowardly northern blood, what could she +expect of him, the son of Jude Rush?—and she curled her lip with +contempt for both father and son. She ceased to mention his name, and +revealed to no one that he still lived. Moreover, she disdained +answering his letter, even had she not destroyed his written, but unread +address and fictitious name.</p> + +<p>Hubert Lisle, too, had volunteered, but it was to his country, and he +was contending bravely, steadfastly, in the Northern ranks. Only good +reports came back to Kennons of Ellice's brave son. This was galling to +Rusha's pride; but it refuted silently her assertion that courage flowed +not in Northern blood, for Hubert's mother had been a Northerner.</p> + +<p>This young man, at the firing of Sumter, had passed his twenty-first +year. He had graduated with honor from school and college, and was on +the eve of embarking for Paris, where he was to pursue his medical +studies. The call of his country stayed his uplifted foot, and placed in +his not unwilling hand weapons of metal other than implements of +dissection.</p> + +<p>For three years Hubert was on active duty, when he became one of the +unlucky prisoners at Salisbury. At the end of three months he was +amongst the exchanged, and emerged from that infamous place such a +walking skeleton as might have scared a ghost. Being unable to reënter +the service, after several weeks recruiting in the hospital, he was +permitted to visit Kennons.<a class="pagenum" name="page_132" id="page_132" title="132"></a></p> + +<p>That was a harder place for him than Salisbury. If it were not so trite, +we would say he had fallen from Scylla upon Charybdis; or, if it were +not vulgar, we might assert him to have fallen from the frying-pan into +the fire; we will simply say, that not finding his father's wife at all +agreeable, and having a remote suspicion that she might be tempted to +put something that was not pure Java into his coffee, he left, after a +few days, for the more congenial city where his college days had been +spent.</p> + +<p>The civil war, then, had come to a close. Men had fought bravely on +either side. It is idle to assert that all the courage and gallantry was +with one or with the other. Both Northerner and Southerner fought like +men. Right conquered, and the South yielded gracefully enough. The +humiliation of her proud spirit was sufficient for her to bear; taunts +and sneers should have been spared her.</p> + +<p>Mr. Fuller was still overseer at Kennons, and had managed with Mr. Lisle +to retain a majority of the field-hands at a fair salary.</p> + +<p>Of the house-servants, Amy and Chloe, being well advanced in years, +offered to remain for the sake of their master. He, knowing what it must +have cost them to make this resolve, and touched by their devotion, +counselled them to leave at least the house. On the farthest corner of +his plantation he would give them a few acres, build them a cabin, +where, with their youngest children, they could live comfortably. This +proposal they received with joy; they would be near the dear master, +while removed from the authority of the mistress.<a class="pagenum" name="page_133" id="page_133" title="133"></a></p> + +<p>As to Rusha's servants, at the first announcement of freedom, every one +went out from her presence forever, so soon as they could gather their +wretched wardrobes into shape for departure. The most of them wore their +all away, and that was sufficiently scanty. All went, we say. No, Kizzie +remained. She was now a poor old woman of seventy. While watching the +others depart, she sat down upon a rickety bench, folded her bony +fingers over her knees, and cried silently. She was thinking. It would +be hard either way, to go out among strangers, or to stay where her life +had been so sorry and hopeless. She believed, on the whole, she would +stay.</p> + +<p>She did not like to leave her little cabin, where she had suffered so +much, and where, after all, she had had her crumbs of comfort. How could +she sleep out of her own bed, whose pillows were now ever adorned with +her own article of luxury—ruffled pillow-slips? How could she leave +that household god which stood day and night by her bedside, the cradle +that had rocked her children? Should she find elsewhere a patch of +ground for her darling pinks?</p> + +<p>Besides, had there not been deep in her heart a hope that some time one +of her boys—Joe, perhaps—might be led to seek his mother? How should +he find her if she went out none knowing whither? Yes, she would stay.</p> + +<p>Miss Rusha was glad of her resolution. She had hired a stranger for +cook, and Kizzie, though now somewhat decrepit, could do her many a +service. But it was not in this woman's nature to acknowledge a<a class="pagenum" name="page_134" id="page_134" title="134"></a> +kindness; she acted and spoke as if she were doing this old servant a +great favor by allowing her to remain.</p> + +<p>It was but a few days ere Mrs. Lisle, who was now more than ever hasty +in temper, raised her hand against Kizzie. Kizzie's eyes flashed, and +she answered her mistress with angry words. This was more than Mrs. +Lisle could bear, and she struck her a blow.</p> + +<p>"A free woman to be whipped like a slave," thought Kizzie; "that time +has gone by;" and she threatened to leave.</p> + +<p>"Go whenever you please," said the lady.</p> + +<p>But Kizzie could not go, and did not. She had borne so much, she might +endure a little more.</p> + +<p>Her pertinacity in staying induced Mrs. Lisle to throw off all +restraint. She believed nothing would force her to leave, and fell back +to her former mode of treatment of this pitiable woman. There came a +limit, however, to Kizzie's endurance. She packed up her few goods, +firmly resolved to see her mistress' face no more. She would stay a few +days at Amy's and Chloe's, and then go farther. She would have taken up +her abode altogether with them, as Mr. Lisle advised, only that she and +those amiable women had not been the best of friends. Kizzie had been +too solitary and brooding to form a pleasant companion. At the last +moment she might again have hesitated had she not already sent her +parcels ahead of her by a chance black man.</p> + +<p>Having cast a last lingering look about her cabin, she leaned over her +cradle, which she wet with her tears. Then going into the sunlight, she +bent down<a class="pagenum" name="page_135" id="page_135" title="135"></a> over her patch of pinks, which were now in fullest fragrance. +She had fallen on her knees, bowing over, and burying her wrinkled face +in the rich mass of bloom and beauty.</p> + +<p>Kizzie's heart had not broken over the cradle, nor was it doomed to +break over her beloved blossoms. A man's step startled her. Raising her +head, a tall, dignified military officer of color met her view. He +approached her close, looking steadily at her with those smiling, +pleasant eyes which Kizzie had never forgotten, could never forget, were +they in her Joe of fourteen, or in this fine looking officer. Her heart +said—"It is my Joe; my baby Joe," but her lips could not syllable a +word.</p> + +<p>"Mother," said the trembling, glad voice, though so deep and heavy, "you +still love your pinks, mother, do you still love your Joe?"</p> + +<p>Ah, what a meeting was that! The wonder is that Kizzie survived it. +Sorrow, grief, had not killed, neither did joy.</p> + +<p>When Joe told his mother he had come for her to accompany him North, she +proposed taking her pinks, earth and all.</p> + +<p>"O no mother, I have a house and garden of my own; you shall have a +place for your pinks as large as you wish."</p> + +<p>The old woman looked up at him questioningly. Before she could speak he +said:</p> + +<p>"I see what you wish to know, yes, I am married." "And have a baby Joe" +too, he would have added, only that he had resolved his mother should be +taken<a class="pagenum" name="page_136" id="page_136" title="136"></a> by surprise in the visible knowledge of her grandchild.</p> + +<p>It was not now difficult for Kizzie to leave her old home; and as she +journeyed northward astonished by new scenes, she learned from Joe his +history since their painful separation.</p> + +<p>He had grieved so for his mother that his new master thought it best to +part with him in a neighboring State. He had fallen into good hands; he +had learned to read and write. At the breaking out of the war he had +deserted his master and escaped North. Here he had enlisted as a +soldier, and after much active service had been raised to rank of +Lieutenant in his company. He had found time to marry a runaway +slave-girl, whom he sent North. He and she were both prudent and +industrious, and when the war was over had means to purchase them a +comfortable home. He had always been determined to revisit his mother. +The visit had been doubly pleasant, since he had fought for her liberty +and his own.</p> + +<p>When Kizzie arrived at her son's home, and was introduced to his wife +and the unsuspected baby, she was again speechless. But her silent +prayer was that her years might be lengthened out to the number of +Methuseleh's, in order long to enjoy this unaccustomed happiness.</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style="margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em"> +<a class="pagenum" name="page_137" id="page_137" title="137"></a> +<a name="THE_ST_LEGERS_3859" id="THE_ST_LEGERS_3859"></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XVII.</h2> +<h3>THE ST. LEGERS.</h3> +</div> + +<p>John Temple had been a three month's volunteer at the commencement of +the war. But his business so much suffered, and his absence so +distracted his wife, that he considered it his duty, after his term of +service had expired, to remain at home. John Temple, for the son of an +Irishman, was a man of a great deal of equanimity. He could face a body +of soldiers without flinching, and he could meet daily the frivolousness +and folly, the bagatelles and boutades of his pretty wife without losing +patience. That he could do the one was not strange or uncommon; but to +do the other without seeking the satisfaction of slamming a door, +kicking a footstool across the floor, or boxing the children's ears, was +truly remarkable.</p> + +<p>It was well for Juliet that she had married a man whose disposition and +temperament was so the reverse of her own. She was one of those who +delight in fancying her own life to be filled with more trials and +troubles than any other person's can be. And why? She had a beautiful +home, rich and fashionable in its appointments, plenty of servants at +her command,<a class="pagenum" name="page_138" id="page_138" title="138"></a> horses, carriage and driver at her disposal, a niece of +remarkable loveliness and beauty, a son and daughter somewhat spoiled, +who inherited fortunately their mother's beauty and their father's good +sense; a kind and indulgent husband—what more could she wish?</p> + +<p>Ah, Juliet Temple! the hand of sorrow had never touched thee. The sacred +form of grief had passed thee by. Death had flitted around thee, taking +others, leaving thee and thine. Father and mother, brother and sisters, +husband and children all remained to thee! Yet did'st thou never raise +thy heart in thanksgiving unto God, but suffered it to be depressed and +fretted at the nameless trifles that came vexingly.</p> + +<p>Few persons, like Juliet, live to the age of thirty-five without having +suffered losses and afflictions. Juliet never paused to consider this. +She never reflected, even at a funeral, that thus far she had been +spared, but that her turn must come. When she gazed upon poverty and +distress no thought that such might have been, or might still be hers, +crossed her mind. She was more unhappy than the cripple or the beggar +that passed her by.</p> + +<p>To such souls come awakenings, soon or late; sometimes gentle, sometimes +startling as an earthquake.</p> + +<p>Captain St. Leger, who had seldom visited home of late years, on a +recent return had taken with him his invalid wife to China. He had +opened business relations at a principal port, which had gradually +become his more usual stopping place and home. Mrs. St. Leger had +improved somewhat on the voyage; and the first letter received from her +on her arrival was<a class="pagenum" name="page_139" id="page_139" title="139"></a> favorable. Little then were the daughters prepared +for the succeeding letter which contained intelligence of her death.</p> + +<p>The long illness of their mother had prepared the elder daughters in a +measure for the event. Juliet had not anticipated such a thing. She had +thought only of seeing her mother return from her lengthy voyage +recruited in health and spirits, with her old taste and ability revived +for society and amusements. She shut herself up in a room and grieved +inordinately. Had her own and father's household lay dead before her, +she could not have assumed a wilder sorrow. In vain her husband soothed +and reasoned. Her mother had been a great sufferer; she could not expect +but that she must some time die; she was beyond the reach of pain; for +her the agony of death was over. All to no purpose. She would have no +comfort in husband, children, or sisters; her mother was dead, and she +would not be comforted.</p> + +<p>John Temple thought it would do her good to see Dr. Browne; he +accordingly sent for him, and without her knowledge.</p> + +<p>Dr. Browne called; but to see him Juliet persistently refused. The real +reason was because she was in wretched <i>deshabille</i>, her face was +swollen with weeping, and it would be such a weary work to do her hair. +No; her vanity was yet stronger than her grief, and she would not be +seen by Dr. Browne.</p> + +<p>Two months passed, and Juliet had recovered her usual composure, if +composure can be used in connection with so unrestful a creature.<a class="pagenum" name="page_140" id="page_140" title="140"></a></p> + +<p>And now came a letter from the hand of a stranger, bearing news of the +sudden death by apoplexy of Captain St. Leger.</p> + +<p>This was indeed unexpected, and created in the family a much greater +sensation than had the death of the mother.</p> + +<p>The Van Rensaleers and the Langs began to inquire about the condition of +the property. Without consulting Mr. Temple, the husbands of Leonora and +Estelle sailed at once for China.</p> + +<p>Juliet's anxiety about her share of the estate somewhat modified her +grief in this instance. She had but slightly known her father; he had +been home but seldom, and for brief visits. He was an austere man, very +fine-looking, but silent and undemonstrative. She should not miss him so +much, still his death was such a shock—as she was fond of repeating to +her friends; she should never recover from the effects of two such +terrific shocks.</p> + +<p>So selfish in her grief was Juliet, nobody's sorrow had ever been like +unto her own. Whereas, had she only stopped to consider, had she been a +Christian instead of a heathen, a woman instead of a child, she would +have borne silently this affliction as a necessary dispensation of +Providence; she would have bowed her heart humbly before God, kissing +the hand that had chastened her, thankful that those nearer and dearer +had been left unto her.</p> + +<p>The two elder brothers-in-law in due time returned from their mission +with the doleful intelligence that the late Captain St. Leger had died +insolvent, so far as his<a class="pagenum" name="page_141" id="page_141" title="141"></a> foreign wealth was concerned. They swore in +open court, for Mr. Temple summoned them to appear and obliged them to +take oath, that they received not sufficient from the assets to defray +the expenses of their voyage.</p> + +<p>Of this Juliet was disposed to believe not a word. Her brothers-in-law +had ever been ill-disposed toward her because she married for love, and +looked down on Temple because he had industriously labored for his +wealth instead of having received it, like themselves, from dishonest or +thrifty grandfathers. She believed they had connived together to enrich +themselves at her expense.</p> + +<p>Here, then, was another ground for anxiety. She begged Mr. Temple to +institute legal proceedings, and have the matter thoroughly sifted. Mr. +Temple liked no man to believe he was to be tamely cheated, and was at +first disposed to accede to Juliet's suggestion. Upon farther +reflection, however, he thought it wiser to let the matter drop. Aside +from anxiety, the expenses would be great. His adversaries had taken +time by the forelock, and had taken care doubtless to cover up their +tracks.</p> + +<p>He was now independent; his business needed all his attention; he would +not risk the certain for the uncertain. He would look out for his share +yet unappropriated in the city, though Captain St. Leger, at his last +visit home, had given deed to Juliet of the house she since her marriage +had occupied.</p> + +<p>But the settlement of the St. Leger estate does not materially concern +us. It had the effect, however, of completely alienating Juliet from her +sisters.<a class="pagenum" name="page_142" id="page_142" title="142"></a></p> + +<p>Leonora was still childless, though she had so far changed her +resolution as to have received two children into her house. She could +scarcely have done otherwise. It had been announced by letter from +Philip that a cargo of eleven children from his mission were about to +sail, and would reach New York at about a given time. Three of these +children were his, and he hoped his sisters would find places for them +in their families, and interest themselves in seeking good homes for the +remaining others.</p> + +<p>Philip wrote that expediency alone could have induced them to part with +the dear children. Their hearts were torn asunder, etc., etc. The +touching letter was read from the preacher's desk. There was not a dry +eye in the house, nor a heart that did not long to clasp the foreign +missionary waifs. The trouble was not in getting homes in sufficient +number for the children—there were not enough children for the homes +offered. It would be such a blessed privilege to have a missionary's +child in the house. The various Judson children that were scattered here +and there were perpetual curiosities. Their very presence was enough to +sanctify, dignify, and make illustrious any house wherein they might +dwell.</p> + +<p>There never occurred to Philip when he wrote, to the city preacher when +he read, nor to the congregation who listened to the pathetic story of +the "hearts torn asunder," an idea as to the incompatibility of +missionary life with raising a family of children; nor that each and +every missionary father had better have given his heart a decided wrench +in the beginning, by abstaining<a class="pagenum" name="page_143" id="page_143" title="143"></a> from marriage, than have been a victim +to perpetual domestic anxiety and have suffered such ever-recurring +wounds.</p> + +<p>At first Leonora had taken Philip's three children, although a +childless, wealthy couple had offered to adopt the eldest, a boy of nine +years. He was handsomer and finer looking than his two little sisters, +who were both quiet and pretty. Leonora thought she should have +something to be proud of in the boy, who was a St. Leger thoroughly, and +might readily enough be mistaken as her own son.</p> + +<p>She was not long, however, in discovering that she had taken more upon +herself than she could bear. This handsome nephew was the exact +counterpart of what his father had been at similar early age. Leonora +remembered well that Philip had been an imp of mischief, and that she +had suffered torments on his account. This young Marius—named for Mary +Selby in full—like his father before him, seemed to think his young +sisters made for no earthly purpose but for his amusement. If they were +out of his presence he was wretched; when with them he left them no +peace; he would fling at them paper darts, almost strangle them with an +impromptu lasso, demolish their playhouse, decapitate their dolls, and +do all the mischief his really inventive genius could suggest.</p> + +<p>Leonora knew how worse than vain would be all reasoning with such a +subject. The example of her brother was all she needed. She took him in +her carriage, and set him down, with his baggage, at the door of the +wealthy couple who had been so anxious to gain<a class="pagenum" name="page_144" id="page_144" title="144"></a> possession of him. She +was not surprised, two weeks later, to learn that he had been +transferred to the family of the Presbyterian clergyman, nor shortly +after to be informed that a collection had been taken up among the +wealthy members of the church for his education at a country school; to +this she was invited to contribute, which she did liberally.</p> + +<p>Captain St. Leger had given all his city property to his daughters, +leaving his only son unprovided for.</p> + +<p>As to Estelle, Mrs. Lang, she rejoices in five daughters, which, added +to her four sons, makes her family equal in number, if not in degree, to +that of Queen Victoria's. She has had a wing added to her already +extensive mansion, wherein she has had her children installed, with +their nurses at command, one being an aged lady, trusty and faithful. +Unlike Juliet, Estelle became wise enough to give over fretting and +borrowing trouble. She goes much into society, though less devoted to it +than her elder sister, but looks considerably to her household affairs, +and on the whole makes a tolerable wife and mother. She would be +religious perhaps if she knew how to be. But this she has never learned +at St. Mark's Church, and she knows not where else to go.</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style="margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em"> +<a class="pagenum" name="page_145" id="page_145" title="145"></a> +<a name="ST_MARKS_OR_ST_PATRICKS_4073" id="ST_MARKS_OR_ST_PATRICKS_4073"></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XVIII.</h2> +<h3>ST. MARK'S OR ST. PATRICK'S?</h3> +</div> + +<p>A few months later, and Juliet Temple, with her niece and children, +returned from St. Mark's, whither they had been for morning service.</p> + +<p>"I declare this is the last time I shall go out to church while this hot +weather continues," exclaimed Juliet, throwing herself upon the parlor +lounge, not having sufficient strength to mount the stairs. "I was a +dunce for going to-day," she continued, having panted awhile for breath, +and fanning herself with a feather fan; "there were but few out; almost +none at all of the fashionables. Let me see: there was Dr. Elfelt's pew +vacant, the Shreves' vacant, the Dunns', and the Quackenboss'; not one +of the Herricks, Messengers, nor Livingstons there; you'll not catch me +there again with only such a common crowd; it is high time Dr. Browne +shut up for the summer, though somebody said he wasn't going to shut up +this summer, there has been such a hue and cry in the papers about this +shutting up of churches; but he might as well, I can warn him, or he +will preach to empty pews; it beats all, and to-day was communion day, +too; I should have thought<a class="pagenum" name="page_146" id="page_146" title="146"></a> more would have turned out; but, I declare, +I thought I should smother when I went up to the rails; and, to cap all, +that old Mrs. Godfrey, who weighs at least three hundred, came and knelt +close by me, and just completely crushed all one side of my flounces; I +was provoked and indignant; this, added to the intense heat, was almost +insupportable; but here I am again, thank God. O, Althea, you look so +cool and comfortable; won't you come, please, and fan me a minute—untie +my hat, and take away my gloves and scarf, they are like so many +fire-coals. It is too bad to make a servant of you, dear, but that is +just the way, the girls stay so long at their Mass, as they call it; I +wouldn't have Catholic girls just for this very reason, that they insist +always upon going to Mass, only that I really can trust a good Catholic +girl better than anyone else. If a girl calls herself Catholic, but is +not particular about her religious duties, I am on the watch for her; +but a girl that insists upon going through thick and thin, heat and +cold, such a girl I trust in spite of me. Now, Johnny, bring me a glass +of ice-water, dear. And daughter, if you will just step up to my room +and bring my salts, you will be a darling. Dear me! shall I ever get +cool again? If you will just bring me that sofa pillow, but no, it will +be too hot. I wish I had a nice pillow from my own bed, the linen slips +would be so refreshing."</p> + +<p>Althea started to go for one, when her aunt pleased again to change her +mind.</p> + +<p>"On the whole, I think now I will be able to go up stairs, and you can +unlace my tight boots, they<a class="pagenum" name="page_147" id="page_147" title="147"></a> are just killing my poor feet, and I can +get into my wrapper; yes, that will be nice."</p> + +<p>And Juliet started briskly for her chamber. She met her daughter at the +foot of the stairs with the tiny cut-glass bottle.</p> + +<p>"You can bring it back; I have concluded to go up myself; and, Johnny, +that is right, my son, bring the waiter up stairs, where, if I am not +completely exhausted first, I will try to get comfortable."</p> + +<p>The stream of Juliet's talk ceased not to flow, while her niece, son, +and daughter flew hither and thither, as was dictated by her caprice.</p> + +<p>At length, in her snowy wrapper, she half reclined gracefully upon an +equally snowy lounge, which she had ordered drawn to the darkest corner +of the room.</p> + +<p>"Now, Johnny and Flora dear, you can go anywhere you please, until the +girls come and lunch is served. Althea will stay and fan me, and perhaps +I can sleep," said this selfish woman, languidly closing her eyes.</p> + +<p>She had done talking enough for any one member of a sociable; and +Althea, commendably preserving her patience, devoutly hoped the +poppy-god, of which she had lately been reading in her Virgil, would +shower well the eyelids of her Aunt. Vain hope! The uneasy tongue again +commenced:</p> + +<p>"I wonder how your uncle endures it! Every week-day at his counting +house—every Sunday twice at Mass, and then again at Vespers. It is all +of six months now since this very pious fit came over him. And strange +to say, I believe I brought it about myself. I never had given up the +notion of his coming<a class="pagenum" name="page_148" id="page_148" title="148"></a> around to be with me a High Churchman. He always +<i>was</i> the most honest soul—the offer of thrones and kingdoms could +never induce him to tell a lie—but as to what he called his religious +duties, he had become very careless; I could easily coax him to stay +from Mass when I did not feel like dressing for St. Mark's, but about +six months ago, I think it was, I undertook to convert him to my way of +thinking, and to make him see how vain and wicked these Romish practices +were, when he astonished me by his earnest defence of them, and ever +since he is a perfect enthusiast; wouldn't stay from Mass if the house +was on fire, and if you would believe it, is actually insisting that the +children shall go with him whenever they don't go with me; next thing +will be to take them with him anyhow, and the idea of having Johnny and +Flora brought up to believe that it is a mortal sin to be absent from +Mass, even when the day is scalding hot, or piping cold! That is +downright tyranny. I would never endure it! It is well I was never +brought up a Catholic; they'd find a rebel in me, sure. All the priests, +and Bishops, and the Pope, and a hundred like him, couldn't oblige me to +go to church, if I was not a mind. And Althea, only think of it, your +uncle, good as he is, every month now goes on his knees to Father Duffy +and confesses his sins! That is too much. Your uncle, Althea, if I do +say it, who am his wife, is the best man in the world—the very best, +and the idea! Why, I believe it is the other way, and this priest, Mr. +Duffy, had better go on <i>his</i> knees to my husband—he would have more to +say,<a class="pagenum" name="page_149" id="page_149" title="149"></a> I'll wager. John Temple is sensible upon everything else, but upon +the matter of his religion he has become childish and absurd. I believe +he would give me up and the children too, dearly as he loves them, +rather than his religion. There he is at last," she exclaimed eagerly, +as the hall door opened below, and a man's foot was heard ascending the +stairs.</p> + +<p>"O John! I am so glad you have come. You have almost been the death of +me though, you naughty man."</p> + +<p>"How so, Juliet?"</p> + +<p>"Why, did you not tell me when I objected to going to St. Mark's that if +I did not go and take the children you should take them with you?"</p> + +<p>"I did."</p> + +<p>"Well, of course, rather than to have them go to that Irish Church, I +made a martyr of myself and went with them to St. Mark's, but it is for +the last time this summer, I can promise you. Why, I have almost died +with the heat."</p> + +<p>"It is a very warm day, unusually warm for the season," was the only +response.</p> + +<p>"And is that <i>all</i>, John, that you have to say? You are <i>not</i> going to +take the children hereafter to church with you, when it is impossible +for me to go with them to St. Mark's?"</p> + +<p>"That is what I told you, Juliet. I have thoroughly made up my mind, +and—"</p> + +<p>"O, don't tell me you have made up your mind," cried the lady +hysterically, who knew from a twelve years' experience that John +Temple's made-up mind<a class="pagenum" name="page_150" id="page_150" title="150"></a> was like an adamantine wall to all her feeble +missiles.</p> + +<p>"Juliet," he replied firmly, "I will no longer see our children growing +up without religious training. And this very day I have formed a new +resolution. Johnny and Flora are to go with me every morning to early +Mass. This is a subject which must be no longer neglected;" and here Mr. +Temple, having loosened his necktie, and donned dressing-gown and +slippers, took up the fan that Althea had dropped upon his entrance, and +seated himself by his wife.</p> + +<p>Juliet, as usual, betook herself to tears. But tears did not always +drown her tongue; certainly not upon this occasion.</p> + +<p>"I don't see how it is possible for a man, generally so kind and good, +to make himself so obstinate and disagreeable. You don't find me so +obstinate; do I not often yield to you, John Temple, I would like to +know?"</p> + +<p>"You look upon but one side, Juliet; we are man and wife; our religions +are different. I speak not of yours, I know only my own, and this, my +own religion, binds me to bring up my children in the fear and love of +God. You may, for some reasons, be attached to your religious service, +but the rules of your Church have no binding force upon you. For you it +is no sin to allow your children to attend Mass. Your Church claims to +be a branch of ours, admits ours to be the true Church of Christ, from +which it sprang. In attending Mass with me, your children are still +within the fold of the Church. With me it<a class="pagenum" name="page_151" id="page_151" title="151"></a> is different. I believe in +but one Church. All others so-called, however well-intentioned, have not +the banner of Christ, not unto them were given the promises of our +Divine Lord. For me it is a mortal sin to allow my children any longer +to remain in their present state. Johnny should have been already well +instructed, and ready for First Communion and Confirmation."</p> + +<p>"O, John! when you know I am so dreadfully opposed to it, how can you +insist upon having the dear children brought up in such a way. It will +ruin their prospects for life. Likely as not Johnny would become a cruel +priest, and our sweet little Flora would be dragged into a convent."</p> + +<p>"Don't be a fool, Juliet," said Mr. Temple, losing his patience, "who +talks about dragging people into convents? Not Catholics. Have you not +confidence in me, and will you not believe when I assure you I could not +ask a higher, nobler place for our children than that you so deprecate? +Thus far have I yielded to you in this matter. But, Juliet, who has made +me father and master in this house? Unto God shall I have to render my +account; and though I would spare your feelings, I must still be true to +my conscience."</p> + +<p>"As far as the religion itself goes, I don't care so much," responded +Juliet, attempting to dry her eyes with her handkerchief, already +saturated, "but what grieves me to the heart, what I cannot bear nor +tolerate is this association with the low and vulgar," the one idea +still uppermost in the weak woman's mind.<a class="pagenum" name="page_152" id="page_152" title="152"></a></p> + +<p>"Juliet, are you never to have thoughts higher than those that pertain +to society and fashion? Do you never think the time is surely coming +when you must give up all these things to which you are attached, when +death must come to you, and a new life, and have you no care as to what +that life shall be?"</p> + +<p>The lady shivered and covered up her eyes.</p> + +<p>"Why do you talk thus to me? Do you not know that I have a perfect +horror of such things? O, John, the very thought of dying almost +distracts me. <i>Must</i> we all die? How I wish we could live forever, and +never grow old! When we get very old, John, then, if I should be taken +sick, I want you to hold me strong by the hand that death may not take +me."</p> + +<p>"But, Juliet, if you should be taken sick before you are old?"</p> + +<p>"I have no fear, John, while you are with me, even though I be sick. Do +you not know, have you not learned, that I fear nothing when with you, +and have a good hold of your hand? In a thunder-shower I am so timid +without you, I think every bolt is to strike me; if you are near, but +you must be close, I have no fear. It seems nothing can harm me if you +are by. So, John, while I have you, I have no fear of death."</p> + +<p>Mr. Temple had dropped the fan, and Juliet's two little hands were +nestled in his strong, broad palms. He looked with tenderness into the +face upturned so trustfully to his.</p> + +<p>"But if I should die, Juliet, and you should not have me?"<a class="pagenum" name="page_153" id="page_153" title="153"></a></p> + +<p>Juliet gave a piercing scream and threw herself into her husband's arms. +Was it for the first time such a thought had ever been presented to her +mind? Life without her husband! She could not conceive of it. It seemed +as if he had always been with her; as though he had become so much a +part of herself that she could not live without him. For, though she +wearied and annoyed him, teased, opposed, and vexed him, she loved him +beyond all things, even her children. Beneath all her vanity, folly, and +thoughtlessness throbbed one passion deepest of all, love for her +husband.</p> + +<p>"My poor little wife," said John Temple, when he could again speak, "I +am frail and human, but there is One mighty and eternal. I am weak and +erring, but there is One strong and infallible. Put your trust in One +worthier than I; lay your hand in His who shall lead you by the still +waters of peace; in His which shall never fail you, neither in life, +death, nor eternity."</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style="margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em"> +<a class="pagenum" name="page_154" id="page_154" title="154"></a> +<a name="IN_SUCH_AN_HOUR_AS_YE_THINK_NOT_4312" id="IN_SUCH_AN_HOUR_AS_YE_THINK_NOT_4312"></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XIX.</h2> +<h3>"IN SUCH AN HOUR AS YE THINK NOT."</h3> +</div> + +<p>During the following week Juliet Temple was more serious than usual. She +often found herself wondering why her husband had spoken to her in such +mournful words. They haunted her the more she attempted to drive them +away; she could not even reflect with indignation upon his avowed +purpose as regarded the children. His solemn tones and manner had taken +the sting from his unwelcome resolutions.</p> + +<p>Once she referred to the subject:</p> + +<p>"Your sermon of last Sunday has sunk deep in my heart. It is the only +sermon that has ever done me any good—or harm," she added.</p> + +<p>"I did not intend to trouble you; but you know I would like to see you +more thoughtful."</p> + +<p>Had John Temple taken this course long ago with his wife, she would have +become perhaps a wiser, better woman. But he loved peace and quiet; and +he probably thought also that no serious words from him could make +impression upon her preoccupied, impervious mind.</p> + +<p>John Temple was true to his word. For several<a class="pagenum" name="page_155" id="page_155" title="155"></a> mornings his children +were kneeling by his side at Mass, ere their mother had awakened from +her slumbers. He himself heard their daily lessons in Catechism.</p> + +<p>When Saturday came around Juliet began to think about the children going +to St. Patrick's next day. She was so surprised at herself for having +acquiesced so readily. True, she knew it was no use to combat her +husband upon the point, but she might not have appeared to him to yield +so easily. Instead, however, of any disposition to disapprove, she began +to think how it would be were she to go herself. Pshaw! Where was all +her pride, that she should begin to think of going to church with her +Jim, Bridget, and Ann? But somehow, for the first time, she did not like +to think of her husband going without her. He had spoken so solemnly of +the possibility of his some time leaving her! Hereafter she should feel +as if he must not go out of her sight. She put away her embroidery for +her crochet. In turn, her crochet was tedious, and dropping it, she took +up a book which her husband had been reading at leisure moments the last +day or two.</p> + +<p>The book she had never before observed. It was "The Following of +Christ." She opened where was his mark; and this mark was, for this +time, a tiny rose she had handed him that very morning. She pressed to +her lips the rose, which was yet fragrant, though faded. She commenced +to sing carelessly:</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary="" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto"> +<tr><td>"Ye may break, ye may ruin the vase if ye will,</td></tr> +<tr><td>But the scent of the roses will hang round it still,"</td></tr> +</table> + +<p><a class="pagenum" name="page_156" id="page_156" title="156"></a>when +the heading of the Chapter, which the rose had marked, caught her +eye, "Of the thoughts of death."</p> + +<p>"A very little while and all will be over with thee here. See to it, how +it stands with thee in the next life. Man to-day is, and to-morrow he is +seen no more. If thou art not prepared to-day, how wilt thou be +to-morrow?</p> + +<p>"To-morrow is an uncertain day, and how knowest thou if thou shalt have +to-morrow?"</p> + +<p>"No wonder his mind is sober and solemn, with such reading as this," +mused Juliet, but she continued.</p> + +<p>Fire bells commenced to ring. Was this so uncommon an occurrence as to +cause Juliet to drop her book and press her hand to her heart?</p> + +<p>"What does it mean? I am so fearfully nervous. It is not our house that +is on fire."</p> + +<p>She walked to a window; ah, the fire was near, but a few squares +distant; the slight wind, however, would bear it in an opposite +direction. There was no occasion for fear. Juliet took up her book +again, and read a few pages. She was reading these passages a second +time, and with something like a thrill of awe, for they seemed to be +spoken to herself:</p> + +<p>"Be therefore always in readiness, and so live that death may never find +thee unprepared.</p> + +<p>"Many die suddenly and unprovidedly; for the Son of Man will come at the +hour when He is not looked for.</p> + +<p>"When that last hour shall have come, then thou wilt begin to think far +otherwise of all thy past life; and great will be thy grief that thou +hast been so neglectful and remiss."<a class="pagenum" name="page_157" id="page_157" title="157"></a></p> + +<p>The door-bell rang violently. Juliet made an effort to rise from her +chair, but sank back weak as an infant. Her face turned deadly pale, and +she clenched the closed book in her pallid hands.</p> + +<p>There was a confused sound in the room below; the tread of men and +subdued voices. Suddenly, above these, she caught a groan. This broke +the spell; she flew rather than walked to the small parlor so strangely +occupied.</p> + +<p>A knot of men separated slightly as she drew near. O God of Heaven, was +that her husband? John Temple, who went out a few hours ago brave and +strong, in the full vigor of beautiful manhood, blighted, disfigured, +burned in the fiery furnace?</p> + +<p>"My child, my child," had a frantic woman screamed as she was borne down +a ladder in the powerful arms of a fireman.</p> + +<p>"My child," she still cried from the ground, her eyes upraised to the +window of flame, her hands clasped in pleading agony. Eager eyes looked +upward, but even brave hearts hesitated to rush into the sea of flame.</p> + +<p>It was madness, but John Temple ventured. They would have held him back, +but in that supreme moment of supernatural exaltation of courage he was +strong as well as bold. As he would others should do for him so would he +do for them. It was the thought of his wife and children that nerved him +to such heroic, desperate effort, and alas, so unavailing!</p> + +<p>Streams of water had darkened the fiery mass, and hope began to whisper +to the eager crowd.</p> + +<p>Yes, John Temple stepped out upon the slippery,<a class="pagenum" name="page_158" id="page_158" title="158"></a> blackened ladder, +grasping the inanimate form of a little child. Loud cheers rent the air. +But they pierced the hearts of those who bent over the senseless forms +of the deliverer and the child. Most of their clothing, their hair, and +eyebrows were burned, they were fearfully scarred, and worse than all +they had breathed the flames! Physicians were on the ground, prompt +assistance was rendered, and John Temple again drew breath. With the +child there was a moan, a gasp, and all was over.</p> + +<p>This was the result of a kerosene explosion. So instant had been the +ignition of everything combustible that nearly the whole interior was in +flames before assistance could arrive. Stout engines played but upon +useless debris, and saved only unsightly walls.</p> + +<p>Some friend of John Temple had run for the priest, and by the time he +was laid in his own house Father Duffy too had arrived. The sufferer had +become sensible, but could not speak. He was evidently in fearful agony.</p> + +<p>Three physicians looked at each other and shook their heads. They had +the wife to care for now, who, with piercing shrieks, fell insensible at +their feet.</p> + +<p>"Will you leave me alone with him a moment," said the priest, and the +others withdrew, bearing away the stricken woman.</p> + +<p>It was but for a few moments indeed. The dying man could only make +signals in answer to questions, and received the <i>Viaticum</i> with eyes +raised in thankfulness. The physicians had not been able to get him to +swallow, but this blessed bread of life, this comforter<a class="pagenum" name="page_159" id="page_159" title="159"></a> by the way, +this solace and support through the dark valley, nature nor suffering +did refuse. It was pitiful to see him attempt to fold in reverence his +inflamed and swollen hands, and to make, as his last expiring effort, +the beloved sign of our holy religion.</p> + +<p>To John Temple death had come suddenly indeed, but not unprovidedly. He +had been moved, no doubt by heavenly inspiration, to make a general +confession only the Sunday previously. And Father Duffy had reason to +believe it had been made with that care, diligence, and fullness as if +he had known it to have been his last. We have seen what an impression +had been made upon his mind in his interview with his wife.</p> + +<p>Upon recovering consciousness, Juliet demanded to be admitted to her +husband. Disguises and delays she would not brook, and they led her +back. Her children were now there, and Althea, and further back the +servants. These latter were upon their knees, with the priest, saying +prayers for the dead.</p> + +<p>Let us here draw a veil. We have been disgusted with Juliet, out of all +patience with her levity and unwomanliness, but we sympathize in her +unutterable grief. Hard must be the heart unmoved by those wildest +moans, those saddest plaints.</p> + +<p>"Do not weep," said Dr. Browne to her after the funeral, "it is vain, +worse than vain."</p> + +<p>"Only tears are left me," she half-uttered.</p> + +<p>"Your children!"</p> + +<p>"They only speak to me of him."</p> + +<p>"But yourself; for your own sake do not thus yield to immoderate +grief."<a class="pagenum" name="page_160" id="page_160" title="160"></a></p> + +<p>"I tell you, Dr. Browne, my heart shall dash itself against this sorrow +till it break—break!" she exclaimed wildly.</p> + +<p>"But this is not Christian submission."</p> + +<p>"I am not a Christian, Dr. Browne; you cannot expect from me submission. +Do you expect grapes from thorns?"</p> + +<p>"Not a Christian, Mrs. Temple?"</p> + +<p>"You know I am not a Christian, Dr. Browne! I have never known but one +Christian in my life, and that was John Temple."</p> + +<p>Dr. Browne felt somewhat scandalized. A member of his church to say +boldly she had never known but one Christian, and that Christian a Roman +Catholic; was it not incomprehensible? But then Mrs. Temple was not now +in her usual mind. Due allowance must be made, and he would seek a more +favorable opportunity for renewing the subject. He arose to leave.</p> + +<p>"What shall I do, Dr. Browne? I cannot bear day nor night; life is a +torture; I cannot bear life, nor can I endure to think of death. O, help +me, Dr. Browne."</p> + +<p>"Only God can help you, Mrs. Temple, and I pray that His grace may be +sufficient for you."</p> + +<p>"But you forget that I have no God."</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Temple, you are beside yourself. No God?"</p> + +<p>"No! He is afar off, or I am shut out from Him. I have never known Him. +I cannot pray to Him."</p> + +<p>"When you shall be more collected I will call again. Meantime, you will +find much comfort in our Book of Common Prayer. Have recourse to it and +to the throne of grace."<a class="pagenum" name="page_161" id="page_161" title="161"></a></p> + +<p>Juliet abandoned herself as much to remorse as to grief.</p> + +<p>She had had the best of husbands; she had been to him the worst of +wives. As in a mirror, she saw all her past life. She remembered how +fretful and fault-finding she had been; how difficult to please, how +unlovely she had made herself. If John could come back, only just long +enough for her to tell him how very, very sorry she was, how much she +loved and respected him, how he had always done everything right, and +she had been ever in the wrong; but he could not come even for that. She +collected around her the various articles he had used; among others, his +rosary, crucifix and prayer-book. How careful he had been to keep them +hidden away, where they might not offend her eye, or provoke her +ridicule and sneer. She read every day, in the "Following of Christ," +the chapter John had last read, which the faded rose still marked.</p> + +<p>In this was a kind of comfort, but there was peace nor rest in aught +else. She walked the floor distractedly, and wrung her hands and tore +her garments. She shut herself up in the darkness, and stretched forth +her hands and prayed the spirit of John to come back to her in pity. She +would not admit her sisters; her children she allowed to grieve alone.</p> + +<p>Suddenly, came back to her the memory of a look of pity and compassion, +which she had forgotten. When she had returned, on that memorable day, +to her husband, who had just breathed his last, as she raised her eyes, +scarcely daring to let them fall upon the dear face, she encountered the +gaze of Father Duffy. He<a class="pagenum" name="page_162" id="page_162" title="162"></a> had, unconsciously, looked upon this bereaved +woman, whom he knew to be without the fold, therefore, without suitable +consolation for this trying moment, as our dear Lord may be supposed to +have looked upon Mary and Martha, when they informed Him that Lazarus, +their brother, was dead.</p> + +<p>The remembrance of this compassionate look softened Juliet's heart +toward the priest. For the first time in her life, she began to think he +might be something beside an impersonation of evil. To John he had been +a father and a friend; might not she have confidence in one he had so +loved and trusted?</p> + +<p>She began to wish he would call. She wondered he did not, if but to see +after the children. He must be aware of John's recent action in regard +to them, perhaps may have counselled the same. The more she thought of +this, the stronger, by degrees, became her desire to see and consult +him.</p> + +<p>Juliet was what might be termed a "person of one idea." Not that her +ideas never changed—she was very versatile; but she was animated wholly +by one idea at a time, to the exclusion of all others. Two weeks ago, +the Catholic Irish priest was the last person she would have thought of +with desire to see. Now, of all people in the world, it was from Father +Duffy she would seek counsel.</p> + +<p>She rang her bell, and when Ann appeared, thus addressed her:</p> + +<p>"You may do my hair, Ann; I have changed my mind; I thought I would +never have it touched again by comb or brush, but I will. You need not +be particular;<a class="pagenum" name="page_163" id="page_163" title="163"></a> only get the tangles out and let it hang; you can find a +black ribbon somewhere. I don't care any more how I look, besides, I am +only going to see your priest, Mr. Duffy. He must be used to seeing +people in all sorts of rigs. It would be different if I were to meet Dr. +Browne. I would dress for him as for a king, once; but not now! I never +shall care again how I look; poor John cannot see me."</p> + +<p>Sobs and tears choked further utterance. Ann gave a quick start, when +her mistress mentioned the priest's name. She could hardly believe she +had heard aright. She was used to almost every caprice from Mrs. Temple, +but this last transcended every other. What did it portend?</p> + +<p>Mrs. Lang, who was about the size and height of Mrs. Temple, had kindly +taken upon herself the care of procuring her sister's mourning. Having +submitted to all the troubles and inconveniences, she had, but the day +before, sent home several dresses. She would herself have accompanied +them, had she not repeatedly been refused admittance to her sister. +Juliet's hair being finished, she ordered Ann to undo the small mountain +of mourning goods, and select the plainest garment. And, after all, it +was with much hesitation, and continued wringing of hands, and moans and +lamentations, that she allowed herself to be arrayed in these insignias +of her widowhood. She more than once gave up her purpose, only as often +to resume it.</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style="margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em"> +<a class="pagenum" name="page_164" id="page_164" title="164"></a> +<a name="JULIET_4617" id="JULIET_4617"></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XX.</h2> +<h3>JULIET.</h3> +</div> + +<p>Ann, having completed her mistress' unusual and oft-resisted toilet, +received with surprise a message to convey to Father Duffy. She glanced +at Mrs. Temple, to discover if she were really in her right mind. Upon +this point she could not satisfy herself, for Juliet had buried her +flushed face in the fresh handkerchief she had just given her, and added +but the words: "go at once!"</p> + +<p>Father Duffy, but little past the prime of life, was in the full vigor +of energy and usefulness. A worker himself, he infused others with his +spirit; droneishness wilted under the scorching rays of his perpetual +activity, as weeds wither in the noon-day sun. He had accomplished +wonders in his parish, and many another, less efficient than himself, +might have supposed nothing more was to be done. Not so, thought Father +Duffy. Literally and figuratively hills were to be brought down, and +level places to be made smooth.</p> + +<p>By precept, and still more by example, he taught his people to bear +their burdens heroically, their prosperity with humility, their +adversity with pious resignation. He had little patience with +indecision, still less with<a class="pagenum" name="page_165" id="page_165" title="165"></a> querulousness and complaints. With those of +his class, he believed that one's "first fruits" should be given unto +God. One's best emotions, fullest love, highest loyalty, precious +treasure. He had no faith in the piety of him, who, living in a costly +dwelling, proposed to worship God in a habitation mean and contemptible; +nor in that of her, who, clad in a thousand-dollar shawl, would drop a +five-cent upon the plate of charity.</p> + +<p>He was as quick to perceive, as was his will to act, or his hand to do. +He saw at once through all sham and artifice. He could be almost said to +perceive what was passing through one's mind, so quick was his +discernment, so penetrating his thought. He might have been a Jesuit, +nor fallen a whit behind the most polished and profound of that +marvellous society of men.</p> + +<p>Poor Juliet! To have sent for such a man, whose one glance could dissect +her thoroughly! But, let us wait; maybe we shall have no occasion to +repeat the epithet just applied to her name.</p> + +<p>Juliet little understood, indeed, was incapable of comprehending the +nature of the man whom she had invoked into her presence. Otherwise, she +would never have sent for him. She had bestowed no particular thought +upon him, anyhow; but he shared involuntarily in that measure of +contempt, which she ever had cherished for Roman Catholics in general. +She was not one bit in awe of him, nor felt less hesitation in +addressing him, than she would have done in speaking to a merchant's +clerk.</p> + +<p>"I wish to see you, Mr. Duffy," she said, upon entering<a class="pagenum" name="page_166" id="page_166" title="166"></a> the little +parlor, where she had met him the one time previously. The memory of +that day, scarcely ten ago, came over her with such sudden distinctness, +that she sank to the floor, beside the sofa upon which she had been +about to seat herself, and groaned aloud.</p> + +<p>"I fear you yield too immoderately to grief," said the priest.</p> + +<p>"I can never mourn enough for John Temple," said the widow, +disconsolately.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Temple was a worthy man. We have all lost in his death; but we must +not forget that he has gained."</p> + +<p>"I forget everything but that I am wretched—the most wretched creature +in existence. I hate equally the light of day and the darkness of night. +I would take my own life, only that I have such a horror of death."</p> + +<p>If the priest felt horror at her expressions, he did not evince it; but +he said firmly:</p> + +<p>"It is very wrong for you, Mrs. Temple, to speak thus. God does not +afflict His children willingly, nor—"</p> + +<p>"I am no child of God," broke in the unhappy woman, hiding her face in +the crimson velvet of the lounge, against which she leaned, for she +still retained her position upon the floor, in utter disregard of +conventionalities.</p> + +<p>"Though you may not acknowledge God, He is none the less your Lord and +Master. Your will opposed to His is as smoking flax. He has seen fit +sorely to afflict you, and you are utterly powerless. But, God<a class="pagenum" name="page_167" id="page_167" title="167"></a> does +everything in wisdom. He has chastened you for your good, if you will +but make a wise improvement of this dispensation."</p> + +<p>"You talk as if you think I am a Christian. But, I tell you I am not, +and never was. I know nothing about God. I have never cared anything +about Him. I have lived without Him, and as though He did not exist. +But, I am left alone now. I have nobody in Heaven or on earth. I am +afraid—as if I were on water, and about to sink, or, as if the heavens +were to fall and crush me."</p> + +<p>"Yet God is near you. You have but to stretch forth your hand, and He +will support you. Give Him your heart, and He will be a present help in +time of trouble."</p> + +<p>"But, I cannot find Him! And see, you do not tell me truly; for I put +forth my hand, and it falls back wearily. I know—I do not expect to see +God as I see a person; but they tell about Faith that is as good as +sight; if I could only have that!"</p> + +<p>"Are you willing to make sacrifices for that faith—what would you do, +what give?" willing to test her sincerity.</p> + +<p>"Do! give! I would sit in sackcloth and ashes! Behold me upon the floor: +I would even sink beneath it, I would walk upon coals of fire, tread +upon thorns, seek rest upon a rack of torture! And give? O, have I not +been robbed of my all? I have nothing left to give!" and Juliet's voice +died out in a mournful wail.</p> + +<p>"But all this would not bring you to God, unless you yield to Him your +heart."<a class="pagenum" name="page_168" id="page_168" title="168"></a></p> + +<p>"I have no heart; it is in the grave with my husband."</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Temple, you will never find God while you cherish this spirit of +selfish grief. Submission to His will is your first duty. Were you a +Catholic, I could instruct you. I know not how to conduct a Protestant +to God, unless I lead her in Catholic ways. Are you prepared to be so +led? Or, madam, why did you send for me?"</p> + +<p>Juliet hesitated.</p> + +<p>"I hardly know," at length, "I wished for somebody who had been dear to +John. He loved you more than all the world beside, except us, of course. +He was so satisfied with his religion; his faith was so clear and full; +he lived such a good life; and he used to say he owed so much to you. I +thought if you could teach me as you had done him, if I could become +good as he was, that I would learn of you, if you would take the +trouble, even though you were a Catholic priest."</p> + +<p>"You do not wish then to become a Catholic, really?"</p> + +<p>"No; I do not. I wish to find God; or, to have such faith in Him, that I +may believe as if I saw Him. Can you help me to that?"</p> + +<p>"I can," replied the priest. "God has appointed me to bring souls to +Him. He has appointed the way also, and I cannot go out of that way. I +warn you, therefore, in the beginning, that while conducting you to the +Heavenly City, I am not seeking to make of you simply a Catholic, but +the convictions of your<a class="pagenum" name="page_169" id="page_169" title="169"></a> mind and the fervor of your heart will be of +the very spirit of Catholicity. Are you still willing to persevere?"</p> + +<p>"I am. I have no fears of becoming a Catholic. I can judge for myself. I +can never believe in the divinity of Mary; nor in the worship of the +saints and the adoration of their relics; nor in transubstantiation and +miracles, and all those things; but you know what I want—and will you +help me for John's sake?"</p> + +<p>"And for your own. But you must have confidence in me. And first, you +must cease to believe that Catholics regard Mary, the Blessed Mother, as +a divine person; second, that they worship saints or their relics, and +many another fallacy under which you labor. You must be willing to read +and study, withdrawing your mind as much as possible from your +bereavement, and giving certain time to the care of your children. In +these matters you must be obedient, or I can promise no good result. Are +you still resolved?"</p> + +<p>"It is my last hope," thought Juliet, disheartened for a moment, and she +bowed her head.</p> + +<p>"You are sure you can help me," said Juliet, imploringly, as would say +one sick to the physician, in whom were placed all her hopes of life.</p> + +<p>"And behold I am with you even to the consummation of the world" passed +through the priest's mind, and he answered, confidently: "Very sure, +Mrs. Temple."</p> + +<p>The friends of Juliet marvelled greatly, when it became known to them +that she had sent for the Catholic<a class="pagenum" name="page_170" id="page_170" title="170"></a> priest, and was actually seeking to +learn the religion of her late husband. For they looked at the matter in +its true light, and smiled at her simplicity, in believing she could be +instructed in Protestantism by any "Romish priest," how good so ever he +might chance to be. Against her own inclination, but from the advice of +her new friend, she occasionally received her sisters and a few former +acquaintances. They went away commiserating her condition, as being +semi-imbecile, semi-lunatic.</p> + +<p>"She will get over this, go in society, and marry again," they +prophesied. They were not the first false prophets who have arisen.</p> + +<p>A year later, when Juliet Temple was baptized into the Catholic Church, +these same people said:</p> + +<p>"<i>They</i> will get her into a convent, next, where she will awaken to a +sense of her folly." Another false prophecy, for Juliet did not enter a +convent, though she had serious thoughts of doing so. Though she became +not a Sister of Charity, in fact, she did in deed, and atoned in after +years for the frivolousness of her early life, by patient self-denials +and well-directed benevolence.</p> + +<p>In the matter of Juliet's conversion, Father Duffy, as in every thing +else, had done his work well. The widow of John Temple was no half-way +Christian. She had put forth her hand in the way directed, and God had +lifted her into the light. With her feet upon the rock of ages, she no +more trembled under the impression of sinking beneath slippery waters.</p> + +<p>She was not ashamed to be seen by her former fashionable<a class="pagenum" name="page_171" id="page_171" title="171"></a> friends +wending her way to St. Patrick's. When she knelt at the altar to receive +the bread of life, she became not "indignant" that any humble Bridget +knelt by her side; for, dearer to her the most lowly person who now had +received the waters of Baptism than any lady who rode in her carriage. +Through the priest, it was God's work and marvellous unto all eyes.</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style="margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em"> +<a class="pagenum" name="page_172" id="page_172" title="172"></a> +<a name="THE_SPIDER_AND_THE_FLY_4826" id="THE_SPIDER_AND_THE_FLY_4826"></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XXI.</h2> +<h3>"THE SPIDER AND THE FLY."</h3> +</div> + +<p>Both Leonora and Estelle wrote to their distant brother of the danger of +his daughter. She was under the sole care of one who was fast becoming +bewitched with the superstitions of Catholicism.</p> + +<p>Startled and bewildered, Philip St. Leger wrote at once for his +daughter's removal from the house of Juliet. During the few months +remaining of her school-life, she should divide her time at the houses +of her elder aunts. After that, she should take up her abode with her +uncle, Duncan Lisle, at Kennons. This latter arrangement, which had been +always understood, seemed now to all parties doubly desirable. She would +be removed even from the city where Juliet Temple lived. For, of course, +Juliet, like all converts, would not rest until she had made proselytes +of all who should come within her influence. She had been much attached +to her niece, and that niece was known to have had great affection and +respect for her late uncle, who had been to her a father. Truly, great +danger was to be avoided, and soon as possible. Althea was removed to +her Aunt Leonora's, and forbidden to<a class="pagenum" name="page_173" id="page_173" title="173"></a> enter Juliet's house without +permission, and accompanied.</p> + +<p>Althea was now nearly sixteen; she had emerged from the somewhat +unpromising age, and had developed into remarkable beauty. Distinguished +as were all the St. Legers for fine personal appearance, none had ever +equalled this child of Della, given to God with that mother's expiring +breath.</p> + +<p>With the beauty of her father, she possessed the winning gracefulness of +her mother, with the best mental and moral qualities of both. As a +scholar, she excelled in all her classes; she had a real genius for +music, poetry, and painting. With trifling effort she could execute most +difficult pieces upon piano and harp.</p> + +<p>"You have the hand of a master," spake Signor Lanza proudly, to this his +favorite pupil.</p> + +<p>"Il improvisatrice," was she styled by her admiring associates, whom she +amused by the hour with her extemporary effusions of rhyme.</p> + +<p>From all, you would have taken her to be from that land</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary="" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto"> +<tr><td>"Where the poet's lip and painter's hand</td></tr> +<tr><td>Are most divine. Where earth and sky</td></tr> +<tr><td>Are picture both and poetry;</td></tr> +<tr><td>Of Italy—"</td></tr> +</table> + +<p>A Madame de Stael would have immortalized her as another Corrinne.</p> + +<p><i>Heu, me miserum!</i> Where shall we find goose-quill cruel and grey enough +to write her down wife of Jude Thornton Rush?<a class="pagenum" name="page_174" id="page_174" title="174"></a></p> + +<p>"There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of +in your philosophy."</p> + +<p>Have you forgotten, dear reader, that September night after Ellice's +funeral? How Duncan Lisle sat alone with Hubert, his child, before the +bright fire, while the rain pattered against the pane, and the memory of +the widowed man broke up into such a shower of reminiscences as almost, +for the moment, to drown the fire of his grief? Do you remember that +Philip St. Leger, returned from the East, came abruptly upon the scene, +telling of Della's death, and the little child left at the North? Well, +was it not natural for us to think that Hubert and Althea, children of +Della and Ellice, the "Pythias and Damon" friends, should grow up and +love each other, and marry at last, as they do in novels?</p> + +<p>Yes, that was our pet scheme, indulged in to the last. But we are +compelled to admit with the poet, that "best laid plans go oft astray." +We are also compelled to think half wickedly with Amy—what pity it was +Jude Rush fell down a precipice breaking his neck, thus giving his wife +liberty to capture her own good master—and what pity it was too that +Jude Thornton Rush did <i>not</i> fall down some precipice and did <i>not</i> +break his neck before, spider-like, he had woven his fine web, and said +softly to Della's daughter:</p> + +<p>"Will you walk into my parlor?"</p> + +<p>For, something like a spider was Thornton Rush. He was quite tall and +too slender. His body was out of proportion to his long limbs, and his +hands and feet had the remarkable faculty of protruding too far from<a class="pagenum" name="page_175" id="page_175" title="175"></a> +every garment, even those the tailor declared should be long enough +<i>this</i> time. The "ninth part of a man" would seize the sleeve at the +wrist with both hands, give a good jerk and an emphatic <i>there</i>! But +when Thornton Rush was ordered to lift his arm naturally, the wrist +protruded like a turtle's neck.</p> + +<p>"He must be made of gutta percha," soliloquized the discomfited tailor, +giving him up as an incorrigible <i>non-fit</i>.</p> + +<p>The rather stooping shoulders and long neck supported a splendid head +for Thornton Rush. This was indeed his crowning attraction. Short silken +curls of raven black clustered around it, shading a wide white forehead +and delicately fashioned ear. He had a beautifully arched brow, heavily +pencilled, within which a glittering black eye, too deep set, gleamed +forth with unaccountable attraction. His nose was straight, small, but +full of nerve. You would never guess from that handsome, firm-set mouth +of his, where decision and resolution played about the cherry lips and +dimpled chin, that he would have proved the coward and run from duty and +from danger. No; but then Thornton Rush was made up of contradictions.</p> + +<p>His mental and moral, like his physical organization, was full of +angularities, discrepancies, and unharmonious combinations.</p> + +<p>He could be gentle as the dove, but fierce as the tiger; kind and +confiding as any child, but cruel and deceitful as Lucifer transformed.</p> + +<p>So opposite qualities are seldom found combined.</p> + +<p>The most brave men are often the most gentle; the<a class="pagenum" name="page_176" id="page_176" title="176"></a> most trustful are +frank and open-hearted. To parody Byron's eulogy on "The wondrous +three,"</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary="" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto"> +<tr><td>Nature has formed but one such—hush!</td></tr> +<tr><td>She broke the die in moulding Thornton Rush.</td></tr> +</table> + +<p>What do you say? Althea and Thornton married and not one word about the +courtship, that most interesting of all portions of a love-history!</p> + +<p>It was the tragedy of "the spider and the fly" enacted over again. We +would but shudder to watch that wicked, sly, patient tarantula, coaxing, +flattering, urging the poor little fly, whose bright wings are singed +with his hot breath, and whose wonderful eyes are held fast by the +fascination of his scintillant, unrelenting gaze.</p> + +<p>It is to be hoped, dear reader, that you are not of that kind who love +to gloat over horrors. If you are, you must turn to some modern journal +of civilization which is able to satisfy you completely. But Althea and +Thornton are not married yet, they are only going to be.</p> + +<p>After the lapse of a quarter of a century Duncan Lisle, for the second +time, attended commencement exercises at Troy Female Seminary. +Twenty-five years is but a dot upon Time's voluminous scroll, yet in +that brief space has been crowded infinite change. Madame X—— having +retired from the school of education and from the stage of life, has +been succeeded first by Madame Y——, and again by Mademoiselle de +V——. More than half the young ladies who had graduated with Della and +Ellice, who had looked like angels in simple white and blue, had lain +down the<a class="pagenum" name="page_177" id="page_177" title="177"></a> burthens of life, and were sleeping peacefully here and there.</p> + +<p>Duncan Lisle had not, for four years, seen his niece, and was not +prepared for such startling developments of mind and person. He was +proud to behold her queen of the school; queen, both in beauty and +mental accomplishments. He too might be forgiven for one daring thought +that soared down to matchmaking. It was not very strange that, +remembering his earliest wife and only sister, and thinking of his one +beloved child, the thought should cross him of the beauty and fitness of +a union between Hubert and Althea. "I will send Althea's picture across +the ocean to Hubert; I will write him to return home immediately," was +the conclusion of this good father. All parents have such pet schemes, +to greater or less extent.</p> + +<p>The health of the master of Kennons had been for some time delicate. His +journey North, undertaken partially for his own benefit as well as to +accompany his niece to his home, proved rather injurious than otherwise. +The excessively hot weather prevailing rendered the trip anything but +agreeable, and he returned to Kennons much exhausted and debilitated.</p> + +<p>He lost no time in carrying out his resolution with regard to his son. +He wrote him a letter full of the praises of Althea, assuring him that +the picture enclosed failed in justice to the original. He also spoke of +his own failing health and his great and increasing desire to behold him +again. Hubert Lisle never received this letter; it never left the office +at Flat Rock; indeed it was destroyed at Kennons.<a class="pagenum" name="page_178" id="page_178" title="178"></a></p> + +<p>Thornton Rush had returned from Europe at the close of the war. Instead, +however, of returning to Virginia, he had put up his shingle as a lawyer +in one of the new States of the growing West. He had not forgiven his +mother that she had allowed his several letters to go unanswered.</p> + +<p>Two years had he now been at Windsor, among the wilds and roughnesses of +a new country; still had his mother for him no word of congratulation, +encouragement, or even recognition.</p> + +<p>When Rusha Lisle read her husband's intercepted letter, thereby +discovering his designs as to the hand of Althea, a new thought struck +her.</p> + +<p>It will be remembered that she took special delight in rendering others +uncomfortable, and in setting up an opposition to everybody's plans. +Against Hubert she had entertained a perpetual ill-feeling. Was he not +the child of her rival? Should he win for bride this sweet child of +sixteen, whose transcendent loveliness made an impression even upon her +own unsusceptible heart?</p> + +<p>Had she not surreptitiously gained access to her husband's last will and +testament, wherein he had made his sister's child co-heiress with Hubert +to all his estate?</p> + +<p>What could be expected of Rusha Lisle but instant action to the +following effect: First, to break her long silence to her son by +enclosing him the picture designed for Hubert, and cordially inviting +him to make her a visit at Kennons, where he would find the beautiful +original.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Lisle kept her own counsel, never intimating a<a class="pagenum" name="page_179" id="page_179" title="179"></a> wish or expectation +of her son's return. Her surprise upon his arrival was well +counterfeited; nor was it ever known beyond mother and son that the +latter had not been first to make the overture. But this son, in some +respects so like his mother, might have evinced less disposition to do +at once her bidding had not the inducements held forth been +all-sufficient.</p> + +<p>Thornton Rush was not a lady's man. Byron was made miserable on account +of the deformity of his foot. So our less distinguished but equally +sensitive hero had always the impression that his long wrists and ankles +were subjects of ridicule. He believed the ladies did not fancy him; he +therefore made no efforts to propitiate their favor. If they happened to +laugh in his presence—and the foolish things are always happening to +laugh—he made sure it was at himself; and he shot at them most vengeful +flashes from his cavernous orbs, which annihilated them not at all, but +rendered them more risible.</p> + +<p>"But there is a tide in the affairs of men."</p> + +<p>"There is a hand that shapes our ends, rough-hew them as we will."</p> + +<p>The inanimate picture at which Thornton Rush gazed did not laugh at him. +On the contrary, it looked up to him with such a sweet confiding +trust—O, there was something in that face he had seen in none other. It +wonderfully attracted him. Even had it not, he would have made every +effort to win Althea's heart just the same; and for the very reasons +that had instigated his mother. He hated Hubert Lisle. To thwart him he +would have circumvented<a class="pagenum" name="page_180" id="page_180" title="180"></a> heaven and earth. With Thornton Rush this +consideration weighed even more than Althea's promised dowry.</p> + +<p>Spite, revenge, avarice, every worst passion should be gratified in the +accomplishment of a union with Althea.</p> + +<p>Unfortunately, the situation of things at Kennons favored this wretched +wooing. Duncan Lisle was failing rapidly, and had become confined to his +room. Above all others, he loved Althea to be with him; but he knew, and +upon this his wife enlarged, that she should be allowed considerable +recreation.</p> + +<p>When, therefore, Rusha Lisle came in to take the niece's place, +insisting upon the latter taking a ride or drive, her uncle would join +in the request, and Althea was compelled to go. Nor was it such a +hardship. Thornton was ever ready to accompany her. And now, in presence +of this guileless girl, he did, indeed, seem transformed. He was +attentive, kind and gentle, he hastened to comply with her every wish, +to anticipate all.</p> + +<p>For the first time in his life, he put a curb upon his violent temper. +He became kind, even to his horse and his dog—when in <i>her</i> presence. +Discovering her taste for poetry, he sat up nights to commit to memory +whole pages of her favorite Scott and Moore, Bryant and Longfellow, +which he would repeat to her with exceeding force and appropriateness.</p> + +<p>Thornton's voice was as contradictory as the rest. It could be soft or +harsh, musical or discordant. To Althea it was only pleasant and gentle; +and, by degrees, came to possess for her a wonderful charm.<a class="pagenum" name="page_181" id="page_181" title="181"></a></p> + +<p>Mrs. Lisle, so disagreeable to all others, had practiced remarkable +effort and self-control in making herself agreeable to this young girl, +whom she would fain help to draw within her son's meshes.</p> + +<p>Mr. Lisle's first letter to his son, to which we have referred, was not +his last. But every missive, more earnest than the former, met with the +fate of the first. Every day he waited anxiously for the coming of the +mail. It seemed all that interested him. It was pitiful to see his daily +disappointments, the dying out of every renewed hope.</p> + +<p>This constant alternation of hope and despair, with constant suspense, +shortened his days.</p> + +<p>He died suddenly at the last, his expiring gaze upon the portrait of +Ellice that, as of old, still hung over the mantle.</p> + +<p>Did Mrs. Lisle, in presence of death itself, experience no scruple in +having kept the son from his dying father? Would she ever feel remorse +of conscience in this world, or in the next? At all events, she +expedited in every possible manner the wooing and winning of Althea. Was +there in Heaven no guardian angel for this motherless child? Was not her +very name suggestive of protection from above? Had Della's last prayer +on earth failed to reach the throne of Grace and Mercy?</p> + +<p>No obstacle appeared in the way, after the only one was removed by +death. Thornton began to talk about a return to his northwestern home. +His business would still further suffer by a more protracted stay. +Already he had been informed of the <i>debut</i> of a rival,<a class="pagenum" name="page_182" id="page_182" title="182"></a> one Capt. +Sharp, upon his own field of law and politics. A Captain for four years +in the Union army—what a claim irresistible would that be upon the good +will and votes of the people! What a tempting bait for the Republican +leaders to throw out to the multitude of small fish!</p> + +<p>But how could he go back alone, after having lived two months in the +light of Althea's presence? So he pleaded his suit to the gentle girl, +veiling still more his fierce claws with the velvet glove, realizing +Shakspeare's</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary="" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto"> +<tr><td>One may smile and smile, and be a villain.</td></tr> +</table> + +<p>Thornton Rush won his bride, and carried back to his northern home the +young girl whose grace and beauty dazzled every eye.</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style="margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em"> +<a class="pagenum" name="page_183" id="page_183" title="183"></a> +<a name="ALTHEA_5132" id="ALTHEA_5132"></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XXII.</h2> +<h3>ALTHEA.</h3> +</div> + +<p>Several years have passed. We find Althea a matron of twenty or more, +but did we not know her age, we might think her five years older. She +has not lost her beauty; though it is of a softer, more pensive kind. +She is a gentle, quiet woman, beloved by the people of Windsor, for she +makes no pretensions, and they have no shadow of suspicion that she +deems herself their superior. But it is a never-ceasing wonder to the +good and discerning that she ever came to marry Thornton Rush.</p> + +<p>Thornton Rush is a man of mark. He has his friends and his foes. To +those whom he deems worthy of conciliating, will he fawn and cringe. +Those whom he despairs of making his friends, or those whose friendship +may do him no good, he alienates determinedly, and without scruple.</p> + +<p>For four years has he waged a perpetual warfare with the Captain. The +odds would have been against him, had he not in his wife possessed one +advantage. While Mrs. Sharp possessed by nature the qualities expressed +by her name and made herself unpopular<a class="pagenum" name="page_184" id="page_184" title="184"></a> to the good women of Windsor, +Althea, without premeditation or effort, was a universal favorite. +Thornton Rush was well aware of this advantage, and he made the most of +it.</p> + +<p>Like many another man, he did not like to come home and find his wife +gone. He missed her as he would the sun from day. Althea was much +inclined to remain at home; and Thornton would not often have found +chance to grumble upon this score. He was not given to habits of +self-denial; nevertheless, to secure good will and triumph over Sharp, +he would encourage Althea to make frequent visits—nay, often insist +upon it, against her inclination and his own private wish. If his wife +could serve his policy, well and good. What was a wife for?</p> + +<p>There were those who regarded Thornton Rush with positive fear. They +quailed beneath the flash of his eye. Such dared not openly oppose him +and were outwardly his friends. Some, lacking powers of penetration, +deemed him better than he was, and thought there must be much hidden +good in one who had won so sweet a woman for a wife. Few dared exhibit, +or openly proclaim the intense disaffection with which he had inspired +them. But those who did were bitter and unrelenting in animosity; were +enemies indeed, worthy of the name. Foremost among these was Carlton +Sharp. This Captain still led a company well drilled and faithful. On +the other side, Thornton Rush, since about it was no smell of gunpowder, +trained a goodly crew, with which he met the Captain's line. Victory was +not always upon one side. Politics is a +very<a class="pagenum" name="page_185" id="page_185" title="185"></a> uncertain <i>res gestœ</i>. +And human nature, more uncertain still, would vacillate from +wing to wing, now being a Sharp's retainer, and anon a hanger-on of +Rush. Such changelings would not count, but that their vote weighs +heavily.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Lisle had already made one visit to her son, which lasted several +months. During this visit Althea's eyes had been opened, and she had +been led to wonder, as before in the case of her husband, for what +purpose had been assumed the false garb of amiability during the time of +her sojourn at Kennons. Both Mrs. Lisle and that strange woman's son +were mysteries to Althea. To her mind of singular clearness and purity +they were incomprehensible. Their falseness and hardness she was more +ready to believe hallucinations of her own mind, rather than really +glaring faults of character in them. Hence she strove to force herself +to believe them better than they were. But this could not last—and at +length the young wife was driven to the sad conclusion that her +mother-in-law was not only harsh, unamiable, and unforgiving, but +destitute of moral and religious principle, and that the man she had +married was worthy such ignoble parentage.</p> + +<p>Did Althea then learn to regard her husband with scorn and contempt? Did +she become a woman's rights woman and inveigh against man's tyranny and +woman's weak submission? Not yet. Althea was motherless, and to all +intents fatherless. She had a warm, loving nature, and there were few in +this world for her to love. She had given her first love<a class="pagenum" name="page_186" id="page_186" title="186"></a> to Thornton, +and though she had become aware that it was not the deepest love of +which her nature was susceptible she yet clung to him, shutting her eyes +to his ill-disguised defects, striving to clothe him with the graces +which she had at first supposed him to possess, and, insensibly to +himself, refining and purifying by slight degrees his selfish nature.</p> + +<p>Then Althea had a pleasant cottage, situated upon a grassy plain, and +embosomed in native forest trees. She had her flowers, music, books, her +day dreams and hours of inspiration, when she recited to the birds +improvisations which might have thrilled or amused a more appreciative +audience. Her naturally happy, cheerful disposition caught and reflected +but the light, and dispensed warmth and harmony upon all around.</p> + +<p>Althea had another grand source of happiness; it was in her one child, +Master Johnny Temple, now just passed his third year. With considerable +likeness to his father, this child possessed the hereditary beauty of +the St. Legers, with that peculiar, queenly poise of the head that had +distinguished Della Lisle.</p> + +<p>He was then a remarkably beautiful child, with a winning and loving +nature. To keep him nicely dressed was one of Althea's sweetest cares; +and the little fellow had such a proud air he would have been taken for +a royal prince.</p> + +<p>Strange would it have been had not Thornton Rush been proud of such a +wife and child. But he kept his pride and admiration shut away from +their objects. He never took the trouble to tell Althea that she was +dear to him, even if he chanced to think so; reversely he<a class="pagenum" name="page_187" id="page_187" title="187"></a> had a sullen +way of appearing to think his family a trouble and burthen. Had Althea +suddenly died some day he would have been shaken into due appreciation; +as it was, her presence was like the sunlight that flooded him +unconsciously, and to which he was so accustomed he never thought to be +grateful for it.</p> + +<p>You have seen a little boy with a pet dog. What a life that dog led! +Harnessed to carts, sleds, made to draw heavy loads, after his young +master, besides jerked this way and that, scolded, kicked, cuffed—what +wonder the abused animal ran away or gave up the ghost? Then the boy's +grief! His dear, precious only friend that he loved so devotedly! He +mourns, sighs, weeps, not dreaming that he has himself done his dog to +death. He is lost, having no one to love and torment.</p> + +<p>"I will not mind his cross words, his petulance, his spasms of anger," +constantly repeated the patient wife, but they entered her soul. "I will +disarm him with smiles and pleasant words," she every day resolved; yet +every day was she pierced anew with his arrowy verbality. "He shall have +to remember me only as a good wife and true," she said mentally, even +while her heart was ground as with a heel of iron.</p> + +<p>But the time was coming when Althea might not be able thus to fortify +herself.</p> + +<p>One August morning the family sat at breakfast. It was earlier than +usual, for Mr. Rush was to take the boat, which was to convey him the +first stages of his journey to his native Thornton Hall. Master Johnny +was already up and in his place; for he was a wide-awake fellow, bound +never to be left behind.<a class="pagenum" name="page_188" id="page_188" title="188"></a></p> + +<p>"Johnny will not eat; he has not been well for several days," remarked +the mother anxiously.</p> + +<p>"You are always borrowing trouble. It is too early for the child to +eat," said the undisturbed father.</p> + +<p>"His stomach must be out of order; he threw up yesterday all he ate," +continued Althea.</p> + +<p>"Because you stuffed him so. You are making a glutton of him. You ought +to know he should not eat more than he can hold," replied Thornton, +amiable as usual.</p> + +<p>The child had put his chubby hands upon the table, and laid upon them +his curly head.</p> + +<p>"Look up here, sir," said his father, sharply, "what ails you?"</p> + +<p>The child raised his head wearily, and looked pleadingly to his mother. +She arose, about to take him in her arms, when the father interposed.</p> + +<p>"Let him alone. The boy is well enough. You are making a fool of him; he +will never amount to a row of pins. I am going to take him in my own +hands; he is old enough, and has been babied to death." "Shut up, I tell +you," addressing Johnny, who was now crying for his mother to take him. +"Yes, a new leaf shall be turned over just so soon as I return from +Virginia. And you are about as much of a baby as he is, Althea," whose +eyes he observed to be full of tears. "Here, another cup of coffee; you +have no thought for me—you give all your attention to that +child—there, there is the whistle now! Ten to one I shall be late, and +all your fault, forcing me to talk instead of allowing me to eat. Hand +me my valise—there, good-by<a class="pagenum" name="page_189" id="page_189" title="189"></a> and don't fret," and, rushing away, he +gave no kiss to little Johnny, whom he was never more to behold; no kiss +to Althea, whom he was indeed to meet again, to meet again and soon; but +a gulf between him and her, insurmountable as death itself.</p> + +<p>She turned to her child, now that there was no voice commanding, "let +him alone." She rocked him in her arms a long time after he had fallen +asleep. Her tears sparkled upon his jet curls, while her heart was heavy +as lead in her bosom.</p> + +<p>"Am I, then, so unlovely that my husband does not care for me? Once I +thought it was so beautiful to love, and to be loved! His love is gone; +and mine—O my God, let me not lose the last particle of love for the +one I must live with until 'death do us part.' We might be so happy, but +are so miserable! Is it my fault? My conscience is clear; it does not +accuse me. He is so unhappy, so morose; he makes us all so wretched, +when life ought to be so pleasant."</p> + +<p>Althea had placed her low rocker upon the verandah. A gentle breeze +stirred the vines that wreathed the pillars. The birds flew hither and +thither upon boughs that shaded her cottage. The fragrance of flowers +filled the air.</p> + +<p>"How beautiful is all this visible world," exclaimed she. "How full +should it be of enjoyment." "Yes, yes," chirped the birds, the breeze +and the flowers.</p> + +<p>She laid down her child, who still slept heavily. She gazed at him +intently, resolutely banishing unwelcome thoughts of aught that should +harm him.<a class="pagenum" name="page_190" id="page_190" title="190"></a></p> + +<p>The house was in confusion, as it ever is after a hurried departure. +Althea busied herself with setting things straight. Then she sat down to +her piano, and commenced a song; but her voice trembled too much. She +changed into a favorite march, whose notes rose and fell like the +storm-tossed billows of the sea. Battles, quadrilles, waltzes dropped +from her finger-ends, as if they had been magicians, and so mingled, +dislocated and inharmonious, as to make wildest, though still musical +confusion.</p> + +<p>Hand-weary, but heart-lightened, she took up a book. It was a new book, +she had but half-read, "Gates Ajar." She came to the child eating her +ginger snaps in Heaven; to the musician playing favorite airs upon the +piano, to the dress-maker fashioning gossamer garments out of aerial +fabrics, etc., etc. She put by the book.</p> + +<p>"I do not like that kind of a Heaven. How could an authoress make a +Heaven out of the lowest part of earth? To think of eating, darning and +mending up there! We are to do in perfection there, what we most like to +do here! The drunkard then will take his glass; but he does not go to +Heaven. Wonder if the tobacco chewer enters through the pearly +gates—'nothing that defileth or maketh a lie'—ah, how beautiful and +charming Heaven must be; more than we can conceive, or she, who looked +through 'Gates Ajar,' can imagine. I do not quite like to look through +her eyes. I suppose my mother is there. How little I ever think of +her—wonder if she watches me from above; O my mother, my mother in +Heaven, have pity upon your child!"<a class="pagenum" name="page_191" id="page_191" title="191"></a></p> + +<p>A noise from the adjoining room startled her. Had the cat gained +entrance to her sleeping child? She went in hurriedly; Johnny was in +spasms.</p> + +<p>She seized him in her arms, and ran screaming for Mary into the kitchen. +Mary ran for the physician, and the distracted mother, still holding the +convulsed child in her arms, walked up and down the verandah, shouting +for help.</p> + +<p>Doctors and neighbors came. All that medical skill and friendly sympathy +could suggest was done; but all in vain. When the spasm subsided, the +eye was uprolled in unconsciousness, and the face burned with the +fiercest fever. Then would come the fearful convulsion, and you would +not know the beautiful face so racked and tortured. Again the demon +would die out; but reason returned not from his relaxing hold. What a +scene was there! All had been set in order a brief while before. Now, +again, everywhere was confusion. There lay upon the floor the little +cast-off garments. The child had done with them. His rocking-horse stood +in the corner, his whip and gun near by, his box of marbles, his +countless broken toys and the sled he had never used. The last time he +had been to drive with his parents, he had seen that sled inside a +store. He insisted upon having it.</p> + +<p>"But there is no snow to slide upon," objected his father.</p> + +<p>"Johnny no slide—Johnny have 'ittle ocken (oxen) draw sled."</p> + +<p>So the sled was purchased, packed into the carriage, and that night +little Johnny had wished to sit up all night to admire his treasure.<a class="pagenum" name="page_192" id="page_192" title="192"></a></p> + +<p>"These bufully flowers, mamma, see," pointing to the upper surface and +sides of the nosegay, facetiously termed. At length sleep overtook him, +lying under the table side by side with the gaily-painted sled, one +chubby hand grasping the forward rung. The next day the sled had lost +its charms, for Johnny was ill; and the next—alas, here was little +Johnny! We might speak of Althea's bewildered grief; but why should a +mother's hand attempt to write, or a mother desire to read what only a +mother's heart can understand, and but imperfectly express?</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style="margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em"> +<a class="pagenum" name="page_193" id="page_193" title="193"></a> +<a name="HUBERT_LISLE_AT_VINE_COTTAGE_5394" id="HUBERT_LISLE_AT_VINE_COTTAGE_5394"></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XXIII.</h2> +<h3>HUBERT LISLE AT VINE COTTAGE.</h3> +</div> + +<p>It was all over, the death and burial of little Johnny. All Windsor +mourned for the beautiful child and the desolate mother. Even Mrs. +Carlton Sharp came, Mr. Rush being gone, and mingled her tears with the +bereaved. And Althea was not ungrateful. She turned not away from all +expressions of sympathy, as it pleases some to do. She knew that only +kindness was intended, and to her wounded, but still loving heart, +gentle words and deeds were as balm that is healing.</p> + +<p>After the first few days, however, Althea was left more alone. The women +of Windsor mostly did their own household labor, and the busy season of +the year compelled them to remain at home. Althea could fix her mind +only upon her lost darling. She collected his playthings, soiled, +broken, and all. She gathered flowers to fling above the brown earth +that hid him from her view. She wrote heart-broken verses in his memory, +and many more she poured forth in unwritten music to the winds.</p> + +<p>There was a certain comfort in thus being able to abandon herself to +grief and lamentation. But how<a class="pagenum" name="page_194" id="page_194" title="194"></a> would it be when her husband returned +home? What would he say to the death of his son? As was usual, would he +blame her also for this catastrophe? Or, would this affliction soften +his heart, rendering him more kind in his intercourse with herself? +Althea was revolving this in her mind, in a measure temporarily diverted +from her grief. She was sitting upon the verandah, amongst her flowers, +herself the sweetest of them all. A quick step upon the path startled +her. She arose hastily, and glanced through the vines.</p> + +<p>A stranger that moment caught sight of her, and came around to where she +stood.</p> + +<p>For an instant, he remained regarding her; then he clasped her right +hand in both of his, and pressed it softly to his lips.</p> + +<p>Althea, taken by surprise, was about to resent such a liberty, when the +stranger said:</p> + +<p>"I am your cousin, Althea, you must have heard of Hubert Lisle?"</p> + +<p>It was indeed, Hubert, just over from a six years' residence abroad. Had +he been Althea's own brother, she would not have welcomed him with more +profuse demonstrations of delight.</p> + +<p>"I learned at the hotel of your great affliction, which must be doubly +painful, your husband being absent." Hubert glanced searchingly at his +cousin's face. He had vivid remembrances of Thornton Rush, and held the +conviction, that however much he might have changed for the better, he +could be still anything but an agreeable life-companion. He discovered +nothing by his searching glance, for Althea was thinking<a class="pagenum" name="page_195" id="page_195" title="195"></a> of her child, +not of her husband; and this reference replunged her into grief.</p> + +<p>Hubert's sympathy was aroused, and he attempted words of consolation. +When he saw how worse than vain these were, he endeavored to withdraw +her mind, by giving vivid descriptions of and experiences in foreign +lands.</p> + +<p>Althea made an effort—an effort for the lack of which died Dickens' +Fanny, little Paul's mother—and listened through politeness and +courtesy. Gradually, her mind awakened to a lively interest; and before +the day was spent, she regarded her cousin as the most interesting +gentleman of her acquaintance.</p> + +<p>"How fortunate he should have come now, just in this time of my +distress," she whispered to herself, as she was about to retire, +stopping to weep over the little night-wrapper, whose wearer was gone, +but which still had its place beneath her pillow. She had a thought, +too, which she did not whisper, and it was this: "how fortunate too that +he should have come while Thornton is gone, that no thundercloud may +hang over us."</p> + +<p>Hubert had made a short visit to Kennons. Mr. Fuller was still overseer +of the plantation, which he had conducted satisfactorily. Mrs. Lisle +had, of course, returned to Thornton Hall. Amy and Chloe were installed +in their cabins of old, and had supervision of the white house. From +these faithful servants Hubert had learned the deception that had been +practiced upon his father, during that parent's close of life. At least, +he learned how letter after letter had<a class="pagenum" name="page_196" id="page_196" title="196"></a> been written, how impatiently +his arrival had been awaited, and with what bitter disappointment that +father had quitted the world, unreconciled that his son came not.</p> + +<p>These communicative old women unfolded to their pet young master, as +they still loved to call him, the plan that father had cherished with +regard to himself and Althea. For this also was not unknown to them. +Duncan Lisle had dropped into Amy's ear more than one hint of this kind. +He had none other to confide in; and during a sleepless night, while Amy +watched, he whiled away an hour discoursing of his son, and of the +project in view. This faithful servant had Althea's picture treasured +with jealous care.</p> + +<p>"You shall see it, Massa 'Ubert, an' see what you've done gone an' +lost," unrolling the precious memento from its many wrappings, as if it +had been a mummy embalmed.</p> + +<p>Hubert beheld "what he had lost" first with admiration, then with a +sigh. But the sigh was not for himself only; it was for what that +sweet-faced soul must suffer, under such guardianship as that of +Thornton Rush.</p> + +<p>Hubert Lisle at once rightly inferred the destination of those letters +which had never reached him; and he glared fiercely at the fireplace now +filled with green boughs, that had afforded flame to enwrap aught so +precious. O, cruel flames, to blot out two such privileges—giving +consolation to a dying father, and receiving from his hands a wife +little less beautiful or good than an angel! And more cruel than flame,<a class="pagenum" name="page_197" id="page_197" title="197"></a> +than direful fate, than death itself, the heart of Rusha Lisle, which +Hubert would fain have trodden into indiscriminate dust, in his first +moments of grief and wrath.</p> + +<p>An intense desire of revenge took possession of this outraged son; more +particularly of revenge against Thornton Rush, whose duplicity in +winning Althea was circumstantially detailed to him.</p> + +<p>Hubert Lisle had not only traveled extensively, but had read and studied +deeply. He had scanned all religions, from that of Confucius to +Mormonism and Free-loveism, which is <i>beyond</i> religion, and had no +settled faith in any. He had dived into German transcendentalism and +metaphysics so deeply that he came out clogged and permeated as a fly +miraculously escaped from a jar of honey. He was naturally good and +true, simple minded and high principled; but unlicensed, untrammelled +thought, unsubjective to God's law, had rendered him liable to erect +false theories upon unsound premises, and had undermined in a measure +that nice sense of right and wrong, which had been his proud, happy +birth-right. Yet he would have been startled to have been told that he +was not now, as ever, a bold lover of the truth, that he scorned not +deception and hypocrisy and all manner of evil. He would have bounded, +as from the sting of a serpent, from open temptation to meanness and +wrong. He walked upon the border of a precipice, not knowing but he was +upon the open plain. Thus walketh human frailty, when unenlightened by +faith in God and unfortified by heavenly counsel.<a class="pagenum" name="page_198" id="page_198" title="198"></a></p> + +<p>A modern "reformer," self-styled, acting as a "spiritual medium," is +said thus to have addressed a visitor:</p> + +<p>"It is my very strong impression that you are my affinity. You are to be +my husband; I am to be your wife. You must seek a divorce; so will I, +and happiness awaits us."</p> + +<p>Two divorces ensued, and the gentleman visitor and the "medium" became +one, an affinity, according to "spiritual" directions.</p> + +<p>Hubert Lisle would have turned his back upon such sophistry, and scorned +such a diabolical medium, how fair soever. He had not, however, been at +Vine Cottage a week, every day in the society of one whose situation so +much appealed to his sympathy and kindness, when he became conscious +that he had been taken into a high mountain, and had not strength to +say, "Get thee behind me, Satan."</p> + +<p>From this height was offered him a treasure worth more than kingdoms and +thrones and all the riches of the earth. Instead of shuddering and +turning back, he fixed his eye upon the glittering prize.</p> + +<p>"It is thine," whispered the tempter, "the hand that holds so fair a +pearl is all unworthy. It chafes and frets within the cruel grasp which +an ungleaming pebble might fill as well. It would glow in the sunlight +of your fostering care. It would enrich your soul as a priceless gem; as +an amaranthine flower it would breathe unto your heart an eternal +perfume."</p> + +<p>Hubert Lisle had made obeisance to feminine beauty in every land; but +his heart had remained untouched. Like his father years before, he had +arrived at the<a class="pagenum" name="page_199" id="page_199" title="199"></a> mature age of twenty-eight, unscathed by the blind god's +arrow.</p> + +<p>Hit at last, and so unwisely pierced! To love the wife of another! +Hubert would have scorned such an insinuation but a few days before. But +he had not then seen Althea. He loved her, was she not his cousin? He +loved her, who could resist, she was so beautiful and good? He loved +her, she was so unhappy, <i>must</i> be unhappy as the wife of Thornton Rush. +She had been won with false words and deceitful ways and wiles. Thornton +deserved to lose what he had dishonestly gained, and what he apparently +valued so little. Had not Thornton Rush wronged and, as it were, robbed +the dead, and bitterly betrayed himself to gain possession of a jewel +which should have been his own, which he would have worn so proudly? Had +not this man been his enemy from childhood; with his mother, the curse +of his father's house? Ever in his way, a perpetual thorn in the flesh, +could he not now dislodge him root and branch, and spit him upon an +arrow, that should cease never to quiver?</p> + +<p>Hubert Lisle experienced qualms of conscience, debated as to right and +wrong, gave many thoughts to the censoriousness of the world, but he had +not the fear of God before his eyes.</p> + +<p>"I can win her if I will," was his confident thought at the first.</p> + +<p>"I will win her at all hazards," was his later iron purpose.</p> + +<p>And Althea! Oh! is it thus that the child of Ellice doth come to Della's +daughter?<a class="pagenum" name="page_200" id="page_200" title="200"></a></p> + +<p>And what hath this daughter as a shield from the tempter? Came he not +unto sinless Eve in Paradise; unto her even who had seen the Eternal +Majesty, and listened to His voice?</p> + +<p>And Althea had not laid up her treasure in Heaven. She had not given her +wounded heart to Him who was wounded for our transgressions. She had not +poured her sorrows into the ear of the Infinite, nor laid her bleeding +hands upon the cross of Christ.</p> + +<p>So turned Althea from a now unloved, ungracious husband; from a bitter +sorrow for her lost child, to human love and human consolation.</p> + +<p>But Althea was not won so easily from her stronghold of duty. Nor would +she, on recovering from the shock of Hubert's first proposal, consent to +flee at once, putting the sea between them and Thornton Rush. Hubert +pleaded strongly and well, but could gain only this point. He would +return to Kennons, and dispose of his property and hers. She would +remain with her husband for the present. The first time he should raise +his hand against her, as he had already done, she would leave his house +and procure a divorce. With this was Hubert fain to be content; and the +day before the anticipated return of Thornton Rush, after his absence of +three weeks, he left Vine Cottage and the sad-faced lady who dwelt +therein, confident that ere many months he would have Althea as his +wife, and sweet revenge upon his old-time enemy.</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style="margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em"> +<a class="pagenum" name="page_201" id="page_201" title="201"></a> +<a name="JEALOUSY_5614" id="JEALOUSY_5614"></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XXIV.</h2> +<h3>JEALOUSY.</h3> +</div> + +<p>Naturally, Althea was a changed person in the eyes of her husband. A man +less jealously disposed might have attributed this to the sudden death +of an only beloved child. But to Thornton, the knowledge that Hubert +Lisle, a man his superior in mental, moral and personal accomplishments, +had associated with Althea during almost the whole period of his +absence, this knowledge, we say, was to Thornton as gall and wormwood.</p> + +<p>"And how did you like your cousin?" he questioned with assumed +carelessness.</p> + +<p>Had Althea answered equally carelessly, "Oh! very well," she would have +aroused suspicion, for she well understood her husband. So she said with +enthusiasm: "I liked him very much indeed. I wish you could have met +him. He is very agreeable and most intelligent."</p> + +<p>"You speak as if you thought I was a stranger to him. I have seen Hubert +Lisle before to-day!"</p> + +<p>"But you have not seen him of late. A six years residence abroad must +have changed him greatly."<a class="pagenum" name="page_202" id="page_202" title="202"></a></p> + +<p>"Umph! Your cousin is not the first person who has crossed the Atlantic, +as you would have me infer. At all events, he is a sneak and a coward to +stay in my house more than two weeks, and decamp just before I was +expected." Althea was silent.</p> + +<p>"A sneak and a coward, I repeat; what have you to say to that?" demanded +Thornton, his eyes blazing like coals of fire.</p> + +<p>"Nothing," said the wife, indifferently.</p> + +<p>"Nothing! By Mars! do you answer <i>nothing</i>, when I ask you a civil +question? It is well he did not let me find him here; it is not the +first insult he would have got from me, and perhaps something worse. If +there's a person on earth I hate worse than Sharp, it is that +self-conceited Hubert Lisle. He is a puppy, an upstart, vain as a woman, +and deep and false as perdition itself."</p> + +<p>He waited as if expecting a reply. None came; he glanced sideways to his +wife, and continued:</p> + +<p>"Yes, you two would make a very pretty couple, very suitable. Your two +heads are forever among the stars. I wonder there is a book of poetry +left in the house. It is a marvel you both did not sail away in some +carved shell of hollow pearl, almost translucent with the light divine +<i>des tous deux</i> within. For ottomans you could have piles of Scott, +Moore, Byron, Shelley, and Keats; and for food and drink, you could have +stringed instruments, and easel, palette, and brush. How contemptible +are womanish tastes in a man!" Again he waited vainly for a reply. The +pallid fingers of Althea were pulling in pieces a half-faded<a class="pagenum" name="page_203" id="page_203" title="203"></a> flower, +upon which her lustrous eyes were unvaryingly fastened.</p> + +<p>"Good heavens, Althea, how provoking you are!" cried Thornton, rising +from his seat and confronting furiously his wife, "cannot you speak to a +man; what have you to say, what are you thinking of?"</p> + +<p>"Thinking of?" she said absently, scattering the petals from her fair +palm to the floor, then raising her eyes full to his: "Thinking of the +fair little blossom that withered in its bloom. I have done wrong to +weep for him such bitter tears; for he was <i>your</i> child, and had he +lived he might have cursed some woman's life as you have cursed mine."</p> + +<p>This was uttered apparently without anger, and in modulated tones. But +no words of Althea had ever struck Thornton Rush like these. He was +speechless; and when she arose and passed him by to an adjoining room, +he stirred not hand nor foot. If she had expected then would fall the +arranged blow, she would have been disappointed. But she had not +expected it, nor even thought about it. The faded flower had, indeed, +brought up her own withered blossom, as she had said. Had her husband's +discourse been of Johnny, instead of the senseless tirade against her +cousin, had he exhibited kindness, and generous sympathy for herself, +she might still have been won back to duty. But now, Thornton's words +and sneers, however deserved she might have felt them to be, caused her +to contrast the wretchedness of a continued life with him with what it +<i>might be</i>. Thus far she had been agitated by indecision and scruples, +they should henceforth trouble her<a class="pagenum" name="page_204" id="page_204" title="204"></a> no more. She was fully resolved, +even more than when she had promised Hubert.</p> + +<p>In her own room, Althea withdrew the blinds and looked out at the sky. +It was covered with clouds, save one space of blue.</p> + +<p>"Thus is <i>my</i> sky covered with gloom," she murmured, "thus amidst the +darkness gleams my one ray of precious light. O blessed ultramarine, +from on high I take thee as a token. God is good; God does not will that +I should suffer; He does not will that I should love a demon. I am still +so young; a long life may be in store for me; a cruel, wretched life +with Thornton Rush, who assumed the guise of an angel of light to win me +to destruction. A peaceful, happy life with Hubert, for whom heaven +itself must have intended me. The sin is Thornton's, not mine, nor +Hubert's. On the contrary, to continue to live with Thornton would be a +sin. I can no longer deceive myself or him, I love him not; I believe I +could hate him!" and a gleam unusual shot from the large, dreamful eyes.</p> + +<p>Althea forgot, while she thus soliloquised, that she could not thus have +felt, or could not have spoken such words, had not Hubert Lisle won her +love. While her heart had not been given to another, she could have +endured her husband patiently, fulfilling her wifely duties, and +possessing a conscience clear before God. She would leave her husband +then, not because of the harshness and cruelty allegible, but because +she had criminally strayed from her allegiance and given her love where +she had no right to give.<a class="pagenum" name="page_205" id="page_205" title="205"></a></p> + +<p>So blinded, however, was Althea, she did not perceive this. While she +was wronged, indeed, by Thornton, she was still farther wronged by +Hubert. No unkind treatment of the one could excuse her for listening, +without rebuke, to words of unlawful love from the other. They were an +insult to her good sense and virtue; and so at first had Althea esteemed +them to be. But by and by—ah, it is an old story, and the saddest, +sorriest of all stories in this life of ours; reading it, or hearing it, +one sighs that our guardian angel's wings are invisible, and that once +from out their protecting shadow, we rush headlong unto darkness and +death.</p> + +<p>We will not assert that Thornton felt not the death of his only son; he +was not so inhuman as to be unaffected. He would have given all his +earthly possessions to hear again that winsome voice of his child +resounding through the house. He had not realized</p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary="" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto"> +<tr><td>"How much of hope, how much of joy,</td></tr> +<tr><td>May be buried up with an only boy!"</td></tr> +</table> + +<p>until the house was darkened by the death of Johnny. The grief which he +experienced, however, affected him strangely. As we have seen, instead +of softening his selfish nature, it rendered him more morose and +censorious. It alienated, instead of binding him closer to his bereaved +wife.</p> + +<p>One reason was in this; that Althea had for him now no winning ways. She +made no effort at conciliation, and sought not to give or to receive +mutual sympathy. Indeed, from the period of the conversation<a class="pagenum" name="page_206" id="page_206" title="206"></a> above +recorded between husband and wife, he was like a volcano, and she like +an iceberg. As much as he was capable of loving, he loved Althea. +Desirable as had been her fortune in his eyes, he would never have +practised such a series of stratagems and self-denials, had she not +personally been of great value in his eyes. When won, and she was surely +his, he discontinued his deception, and appeared his natural self. She +became to him, as we have before said, like the pet dog to his young +master, though secretly beloved, yet ill-treated, scolded and abused. +The thought of her ever being lost to him had not occurred to his mind, +until he learned of the visit of Hubert Lisle. With him, Thornton well +knew he would suffer in comparison. That was the reason Thornton's +mother had taken such infinite and dishonorable pains in preventing his +coming to his dying father. Althea would surely prefer her cousin.</p> + +<p>But Thornton was at a loss what to make of Althea's present behavior. He +had at first felt a deadly jealousy of Hubert. That emotion had almost +over-shadowed his grief. But he could not learn that any communication +was kept up between the parties. No letters came to and fro. The mention +of Hubert's name caused no blush upon Althea's cheek. She spoke of him +kindly and naturally, as of a brother that was dear to her. In the +distant years, he had been convinced of Hubert's honorable nature. He +might not have changed. At all events he was gone now, and might never +return. It was more agreeable to attribute Althea's rigid coldness to a +shock of grief, rather<a class="pagenum" name="page_207" id="page_207" title="207"></a> than to a shock of hatred to himself or of +affection for another. Nevertheless, he gave her no peace nor quiet. He +became angered if she did not converse, and equally out of temper with +whatever she might say.</p> + +<p>Does such a man deserve a wife? Let him have a woman, then, who will +bring him to his senses—or what passes for senses—in a manner +veritably Xantippean; and not one of those tender-hearted, peace-loving +creatures who would bless some good man's heart and home.</p> + +<p>There are few men upon whom kindness and gentleness will not make more +or less impression; but our unprepossessing hero is of that unfavored +few.</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style="margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em"> +<a class="pagenum" name="page_208" id="page_208" title="208"></a> +<a name="THE_AWAKENING_5791" id="THE_AWAKENING_5791"></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XXV.</h2> +<h3>THE AWAKENING.</h3> +</div> + +<p>After a few weeks, Thornton has something outside his house to engage +him. Election is approaching. Although neither Thornton nor his rival +are in the field as candidates, each has his favorite nominee to +support. The fire that Thornton has kept raging within Vine Cottage is +now transferred to hall, stump and settler's cabin. Sharp is not in the +background. His antagonist hears of him, or crosses his trail here, +there and elsewhere. He is put to his wits' end in checkmating and +circumventing him. He, at length, learns something quite astonishing. He +has returned from an extended trip to the country, supposing Sharp to be +not far in front or rear. To his chagrin he has remained all the while +in town, and been an attendant at the Catholic Mission, being held for +ten days in Windsor.</p> + +<p>"That is a game at which two can play, I am thinking," said Thornton, +mentally, grinding his teeth at the thought of the votes Sharp's +presence might secure among such a crowd.</p> + +<p>"Althea," he said, excitedly, going over to his house, "that rascally +fellow is robbing me of all the Irish<a class="pagenum" name="page_209" id="page_209" title="209"></a> votes. Get your bonnet and come +with me down to St. Mary's. I can drop on my knees and become as good an +idolater as that scoundrel of a Sharp. Who would ever have suspected him +of pursuing that dodge? But he is up to all games. Come, how long does +it take you to put on your bonnet and shawl? They say an old Jesuit is +going to preach; I think when his mission is over, I will take private +lessons of him in the art of intrigue. That is what Sharp is at, I'll be +bound. Never mind your gloves; you can be drawing those on while we are +walking along. You look like a charming little widow in black."</p> + +<p>The wife looked up at the husband in blank surprise at so unusual an +epithet as "charming" coming from his lips, and applied to her. But the +truth is, Thornton had done an unusual thing—taken one glass too much, +and he spoke unguardedly. He even drew Althea's little hand within his +own and through his left arm on the way to St. Mary's, instead of +striding on a few paces in advance, as was usual. Just before arriving, +he addressed Althea:</p> + +<p>"Now that you have come so far, do the thing up brown. Make your +prettiest courtesy to all the graven images, and particularly to that +idol toward the left corner. It will be no trouble for you to kneel; +that is always in place for a woman. Keep your eyes open and bow low to +every old lady who has a husband, or a son old enough to vote. Don't +hold your kerchief to your nose, even should you be knocked over with +the incense, and when the bell rings bow down double to the floor; ha! +it is a wife can make or break<a class="pagenum" name="page_210" id="page_210" title="210"></a> her husband's fortune for time; do you +hear, wife?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I hear," softly replied Althea, more than slightly disgusted.</p> + +<p>They entered the church which was already crowded. But Thornton Rush +elbowed his way up the aisle till he stood not far from the altar. A +gentleman politely gave his seat to Althea, but Thornton continued to +stand, a perfect spectacle unto all beholders. He folded his arms and +glanced out savagely. The first eye he met was Sharp's. Yes, there sat +his enemy, snugly ensconced in Mr. McHugh's pew—that same Mr. McHugh +who had told him three days before, that he did not consider Sharp the +honestest man in the world! He had counted on McHugh—and now where was +he?</p> + +<p>Protestants who were present were quite as much surprised at seeing Mr. +Rush as were the Catholics. He had never been seen even in a +meeting-house, unless at a lecture, political caucus, or some kindred +rather than religious entertainment. Sharp was a rigid Presbyterian; but +his rival had never thought it worth his while to pretend to imitate him +in that particular. On the contrary, by keeping aloof, he found favor +with the more numerous Methodists, the few Universalists, Baptists, +Spiritualists, etc., which more or less abounded in the rapidly growing +little town. To all these he could be all things. But as to the Catholic +fold, ah, if that sharp wolf, or wolf Sharp, got in there would be +mischief astir. He must leap after, for, to a Catholic, his religion was +more than meat or drink, and he would become naturally a friend to him +who was friendly to his religion.<a class="pagenum" name="page_211" id="page_211" title="211"></a></p> + +<p>Althea had but rarely been inside a Catholic church. When a child she +had been more than once to St. Patrick's, with her uncle and cousins, +during a temporary absence of her aunt. She had been partial to the +Episcopal service; but as there was no society of this sect at Windsor, +she had very often followed her husband's example of remaining at home +on Sundays; though sometimes she attended at the different +denominational houses, as inclination urged, or some stranger, man or +woman, preached.</p> + +<p>Upon this occasion Althea was peculiarly impressed; not so much by the +blaze of light, the brightness and perfume of flowers, nor by the +commanding attitude of the aged missioner, who stood grasping the +mission cross and about to speak. It was the sudden memory of her uncle, +John Temple, who so loved and practiced this same religion that touched +her soul. He came before her, in all his simple, unpretending honesty +and truth. Never so much, as at this moment, had she appreciated his +worth. She did, indeed, bow her head with reverence before the altar, +not in obedience to her husband's commands, but in tribute to her +uncle's memory. She had named her only child his unforgotten name, and +now the child had joined him in the spirit-world. The two came before +her like phantoms evoked. Were they, indeed, hovering around her in this +sacred place? Such was Althea's impression, and how guilty felt she +before them! Still more lowly bowed her unworthy head, and pressing her +clasped hands to her heart, she cried, "O God, be merciful to me a +sinner!"<a class="pagenum" name="page_212" id="page_212" title="212"></a></p> + +<p>There was a hush in the swaying crowd, for the priest was about to +speak. He had stood during several minutes, until even the latest seemed +to have arrived; then, in the general silence of expectation, his voice +sounded clear and full and his words were: "O God, be merciful to me a +sinner!"</p> + +<p>Such an unexpected echo of her own unbreathed words startled Althea like +an electric shock. For a moment she raised her head, and her drooping +eyes fell upon the utterer of that broken-hearted prayer. Then upon the +clasped hands fell again the white forehead, nor was it lifted more +until after an hour or two of stirring eloquence the missioner closed +with a repetition of his opening words, "O God, be merciful to me a +sinner!"</p> + +<p>It had been to Althea the day, the hour of her visitation from on High.</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style="margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em"> +<a class="pagenum" name="page_213" id="page_213" title="213"></a> +<a name="LIGHT_AFTER_DARKNESS_5913" id="LIGHT_AFTER_DARKNESS_5913"></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XXVI.</h2> +<h3>LIGHT AFTER DARKNESS.</h3> +</div> + +<p>Mr. Rush was privately informed that his rival was to canvass "Stony +Creek" precinct on the following day. Accordingly he was up before +daylight, drank half a dozen raw eggs, for which he had a particular +passion, mounted his horse, and left Windsor behind, before Mr. Sharp +had opened his eyes. Before leaving, however, the politician shook his +wife by the arm; there was no need, although, for she had not slept, and +thus addressed her:</p> + +<p>"Althea, I am going to 'Stony Creek' that I may head that fellow. Don't +fail to attend the Mission to-day; and do, for goodness' sake, hold your +head up, and not fall fast asleep as you did last night. You acted like +a mummy. Don't know when I shall be back; you need not look for me. Have +you heard what I said? Don't forget now about turning in with the +idolaters, look at the old Jesuit, and pretend to hear what he says, if +you don't."</p> + +<p>Althea breathed a sigh of relief as she found herself thus unexpectedly +left alone for the day. She would surely avail herself of the +permission, command<a class="pagenum" name="page_214" id="page_214" title="214"></a> rather, to go to St. Mary's. She had not slept, nor +felt need of sleep; she had never been so wide awake; indeed, it was as +if she were just awakened from a life-long slumber.</p> + +<p>While still meditating upon her pillow, the six o'clock bell rang; this +reminded her that Mass had been appointed for that hour. She would go. +She dressed hurriedly, and proceeding to the kitchen, told Mary, who was +a Catholic, that she might postpone breakfast, and come with her to +Mass. Mary looked up with a pleased surprise and cheerful "Yes ma'am," +and was soon in readiness.</p> + +<p>Althea understood nothing whatever of the ceremony of the Mass; nor, on +this morning, did she seek to understand it. It was not for this purpose +she had come to St. Mary's. It was to feel again a sense of that strange +nearness to her uncle and her child; to feel again near to Heaven and to +God. And, though her conscience had been painfully aroused, though she +felt keenly a thousand stings and reproaches, which would probably but +be renewed and heightened by this repeated visit, she would not have +remained away, not though her dearest wishes could have been realized in +an hour.</p> + +<p>Althea remained absorbed in deep thought and reflection through the +first, second, and third Mass; the quiet intervals were all the same to +her. She was heedless of those who came in or who went out, as well as +of those who knelt around the confessionals, except now and then to +wonder, as she chanced to meet some tearful eye, if the world held +another heart so lonely, desolate, hopeless as her own.<a class="pagenum" name="page_215" id="page_215" title="215"></a></p> + +<p>Hopeless? She recalled the day when she had beheld the space of blue in +the sky—the hole in the day, Pug-on-a-kesheik, thus termed by her +Chippewa friends—which she had taken as a token that her love for +Hubert was no sin. She recalled the momentary joy that had animated her +as she, in imagination, clasped that love to her heart, as a gain for +her loss, as a balm for her bitter sorrow. She remembered how she had +even dropped upon her knees in thankfulness to heaven for having given +her such a comfort in the midst of her grief. Should <i>she</i> have scruples +when ministers of God had lifted up holy hands and sanctified such +unions? Thus had her first sense of horror been blunted, and blushless +become her keen, womanly shame.</p> + +<p>Why then, with a sense of the presence of the glorified spirits of her +uncle and child, assumed that caressed infatuation, that which she had +deemed a higher, nobler love, proportions of gigantic horror? Why had +she spat out as gall and wormwood the sweet morsel she had rolled under +her tongue? Why, giving up her only joy, trampling down with all her +strength and might the one hope of her existence, had she returned to +this strange house, wherein she could but beat her breast and cry out +"unworthy, unworthy"? Was she the first woman who had mistaken dross for +gold; and, finding her error, might not she, like others, fling it aside +for the shining ore that lay in her path? Should her hand still grasp +the piercing thorn, when the rose bloomed temptingly before her?</p> + +<p>Thus listened Althea to human sophistry, until God<a class="pagenum" name="page_216" id="page_216" title="216"></a> spoke to her through +the lips of the Jesuit priest. And he said, slowly and solemnly, +grasping in his right hand the emblem of our religion:</p> + +<p>"And unto the married I command, yet not I, but the Lord, let not the +wife depart from her husband. But if she separate, let her remain +unmarried, or be reconciled to her husband; and let not the husband put +away his wife."</p> + +<p>Had these words come down from the heavens in tones of thunder they +could not have produced upon Althea a more stunning effect. Was she here +to recognize the hand of God? Had <i>He</i> inspired this priest to speak +upon a subject that was thrilling her with pain, doubt, and fear?</p> + +<p>A masterly discourse followed upon the indissolubility of the marriage +tie. "Shall it be insisted upon then, do you say," toward the close of +his impassioned words, "that a woman shall suffer insult, effects of +drunkenness, abuse of all kinds? This is hard, indeed, but there is +something worse than that; for a suffering wife to break the law of God, +and marry another husband! For, whether is it not better to suffer than +to sin? Wherefore came our blessed Lord upon earth, but to save us from +the effects of our transgressions? He laid down his life that we might +live. He suffered that we might rejoice. But He suffered not the death +of the Cross that we might enjoy to the utmost the pleasures of <i>this</i> +life. He endured not the bloody sweat, the scourgings, scoffs, +revilings, and all the attendancies of betrayal, trial, and crucifixion, +that, with impunity, we might set at defiance<a class="pagenum" name="page_217" id="page_217" title="217"></a> His divine law, and live +in open rebellion to the Christian rule He came to establish. God +Almighty help us, if we expect to get to heaven in any other way than by +the Cross of Christ! Think of it! The Cross of Christ! Can you associate +with those words, so dear, so sublime, to every Catholic heart, aught of +this world's ease, or luxury, or happiness? How many thousands saintly +souls have flung aside all that the world could offer sweet and +beautiful to embrace this hard, this cruel Cross! And meet they no +reward? Hard Cross and cruel to eyes not comprehending, because separate +from transitory joys, but yielding balm and incense sweeter and more as +most closely pressed to the heart. And woman, first at the sepulchre, +first in every good word and work, is it not <i>her</i> glory to suffer for +the Cross of Christ? How much has she of His spirit, who cannot bear +without rising anger one unkind word or provoking act? Who gives taunt +for taunt, and blow for blow? Who disregards His express commands, +availing herself of the civil law of divorce, which she knows to be at +open variance with 'Let not the wife separate from her husband: but if +she separate, let her remain unmarried, or else let her be reconciled +unto her husband!'</p> + +<p>"What is termed in Jurisprudence the common law, falls sometimes heavily +in individual cases; but for that reason would we do away with it +altogether? The law of the indissoluble tie of marriage does, we admit, +fall heavily upon some, yea, many lives; should we, therefore, infer +God's dictation to be erring, and practice the human law opposing His +own? Supposing<a class="pagenum" name="page_218" id="page_218" title="218"></a> in some instances, a life to be made happier, even +better; would that compensate for the abolishment of a law upon which +rests the general happiness of domestic society—nay, upon which rests +society itself? Better that few should suffer than that anarchy prevail. +Better that all should understand the marriage bond to be indissoluble +but by death, that it may be assumed carefully and solemnly as a +life-affair of the utmost moment, and not entered into with thoughtless +levity as a bargain that may be broken to-morrow. In a life-journey so +intimate, patience, forbearance, meekness, long-suffering are requisite. +These are Christian virtues which will render any yoke easy and every +burden light. No Christian nation should legalize divorce. No true +Christian will avail himself of the law of divorce. In the eye of every +Christian man or woman, whosoever is married to him or her that 'has +been put away' is one of whom it is said, 'they shall never enter the +Kingdom of Heaven.' Be not deceived. Even though those called and +calling themselves ministers of God blaspheme Heaven by professing to +bless such unhallowed unions, they are of the spirit of darkness, and +lead unto moral death.</p> + +<p>"Were there but this life, the case would be different. You could live +and be merry, because to-morrow you die. It is upon this principle the +divorce law has obtained. The world and Christianity are at variance. +The one offers you comfort and ease, the other a continual conflict with +the flesh and the devil. In the end, the world's votary shall vainly beg +for a drop of water to cool the parched tongue; while the Christian<a class="pagenum" name="page_219" id="page_219" title="219"></a> +warrior, having lain aside buckler and shield, reposes under the green +palms of victory and peace in the Kingdom of Infinite Love."</p> + +<p>The noble follower of St. Loyola might reasonably find fault with the +above, as a citation of his words. But they so glowed and sparkled that +they could be caught only in fragments and snatches; imperfect as they +are, we trust they convey an idea of what was impressed upon the mind of +Althea when the Jesuit closed—"in the name of the Father, and of the +Son and of the Holy Ghost."</p> + +<p>Althea was stricken—not blind as was the persecutor of the +Christians—but with a steady lightning-flash of light that was +intensely distressing. It discovered to her her heart full of sin and +shame. It betrayed the slippery sands upon which her feet were treading. +It revealed the gulf into which she had been about to plunge. Upon such +a flood of light she could not close her eyes. She reflected that Paul +had cried, "Lord, what wouldst thou have me to do," and he had been sent +to Ananias, the priest, "who would tell him what he was to do." She did +not stop to marvel why the Lord had not Himself told him what to do +directly, but instinctively did what Paul did, obeyed instructions and +sought the priest.</p> + +<p>It was now nearly noon. Althea had been sleepless, and had not tasted +food since the preceding evening. She looked around for Mary, that she +might accompany her to the priest's house, where she rightly supposed +the Missioner to have taken up his abode. She saw not Mary, who had gone +home before the sermon,<a class="pagenum" name="page_220" id="page_220" title="220"></a> supposing that as her mistress had had no +breakfast, she must stand in need of dinner. Instead of Mary, Althea +beheld Kitty Brett, one of Mary's comrades, whom she had often seen at +her house.</p> + +<p>Kitty Brett had one of the sunniest faces in the world; and it smiled +all over with willingness as Althea made her request. O yes, she would +go right over with her, and, if she wished, would introduce her to +Father Ryan, the parish priest, whom she would at first be likely to +see. Moreover, her mistress had gone to the country with her children, +so she had nothing to prevent her remaining during the little time Mrs. +Rush might wish to prolong her visit.</p> + +<p>Father Ryan evinced no surprise, however much he might have felt, on +meeting this unaccustomed visitor. Althea was in a state for no +preambles and no delays. She at once inquired if she could be permitted +an interview with the Missioner.</p> + +<p>The priest hesitated for a moment. Had she been a Catholic, he would +have put her off until after the laborer of the morning had been +refreshed. Reflecting, he withdrew, and very soon after, invited her +into another room, where she found herself alone with the true priest of +God.</p> + +<p>Oh! Althea, thy mother, who gave thee to God at the first moment of thy +existence, and at the last of hers, who had aspirations for the truth +which God may have regarded, must have wept tears of joy, and called +upon the angels of Heaven to rejoice over her daughter that repented.</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style="margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em"> +<a class="pagenum" name="page_221" id="page_221" title="221"></a> +<a name="ALTHEAS_TRIALS_6122" id="ALTHEAS_TRIALS_6122"></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XXVII.</h2> +<h3>ALTHEA'S TRIALS.</h3> +</div> + +<p>Althea's conversion from error to truth, from premeditated crime, though +she was criminal almost unconsciously, to firm amendment, was one of +those miracles in which even Protestantism believes. Such Althea +considered it—a direct interposition of Providence. She recognized, +with peculiar awe, the hand of Almighty God, and became as a little +child, willing to be led whithersoever He would.</p> + +<p>It was natural she should turn to the bosom of that Church, before whose +altar she had seen her own soul as in a mirror, and whose anointed +priest seemed to have been chosen of God for her awakening and +instruction.</p> + +<p>A few years earlier, she might have had prejudices to overcome; though +slight, for one brought up an Episcopalian. That her uncle lived and +died a good and true Catholic, and that her embittered aunt had embraced +and become greatly attached to the true Church, had insensibly +recommended it to her confidence. At first, she deemed herself unworthy +to enter<a class="pagenum" name="page_222" id="page_222" title="222"></a> the fold. She had broken, in thought, one of its stringent +laws. What she had come to regard as but a venial error, now appeared to +her as an unpardonable sin. So unpardonable, indeed, that left to +herself, she might have despaired of forgiveness, and returned to it +cherishingly, seven times worse than before. But this aged Missioner, +wise and experienced, knew well how to guide this untried soul. She was +not the first, by hundreds and thousands, who had knelt to him for +direction. He well understood the malady, and like a skillful physician, +knew what remedies to apply.</p> + +<p>In a week, at the close of the Mission, Althea was ready for baptism. +She had her catechism by heart, and was pretty well grounded in +instruction. She had faith which would remove mountains, a confident +hope in Jesus, and a willing heart and hand for Christian action. She +stumbled not over Transubstantiation, nor Confession, nor any of the +Seven Sacraments. She embraced them with a loving heart and a simple +faith, not questioning but they were of God, since they were in His own +Church.</p> + +<p>Whispers and winks were on the increase among Protestants. To secure an +election according to his own ideas, Mr. Rush had placed his wife where +she had made her own calling and election sure. This fact was slow in +dawning upon him, but when it had fairly caught his vision, it shone +with the effulgence of the sun. His friends had no pity for him. He had +placed his wife in the fire; what could he expect but that she would be +burned? It did not alter the case that Mrs. Sharp had been also in the +fire, but<a class="pagenum" name="page_223" id="page_223" title="223"></a> came out unconsumed. She was made of sterner stuff. Stubble +would burn, but rocks were incombustible.</p> + +<p>Althea anticipated a storm; but she braved it, and asked Thornton's +consent to her baptism. She might as well have asked the mountain to +come down and be bathed in the sea. He was fierce as the whirlwind, +unrelenting as death. His words of scorn and anger poured down like a +water-spout, but unlike this element of destruction, his fury became not +spent.</p> + +<p>He forbade her attendance at the closing exercises of the Mission, or +any further discourse with the Jesuit. Of this Jesuit, he had jocosely +asserted he was going to take lessons in the art of intrigue. He deemed +the lesson had been given without his seeking, and it was no less +galling from his secret conviction that it was all his own fault.</p> + +<p>Had his wife asked his permission to join either of the other sects, he +would have answered her with an indifferent laugh and sneer. <i>That</i> +would have been of no consequence. She could have been a Methodist, or a +Universalist, anything but a Catholic! Like a Pagan Diocletian, he would +have gathered all Catholics together, and thrown them to wild beasts. +The coming election had lost for him its interest. It had cost him dear. +Everything might go to Sharp and the dogs; one thing was certain—his +wife should not become a Catholic. He remained steadily at Vine Cottage, +a Cerberus to guard his domain. The Missioner would leave Windsor on the +morrow. Althea wrote him a brief note, which she sent by Mary, asking +him what she should do.<a class="pagenum" name="page_224" id="page_224" title="224"></a></p> + +<p>His reply was this verbal message: "Wait—and trust in God!" Mary +delivered this faithfully, and added:</p> + +<p>"He said, ma'am, to tell you that he would never forget to pray for you +at every Mass he should say."</p> + +<p>"God will hear <i>his</i> prayer," was Althea's thought, and she was +comforted.</p> + +<p>The very spirit of evil seemed to have taken possession of Mr. Rush. He +was more and more resolved to have entirely annihilated every trace of +the new faith in his wife. For this purpose he sent far and near, until +he had literally the proverbial "house full of ministers." His wife was +under exhortation first from one, then from another, every hour in the +day.</p> + +<p>First the Presbyterian, then the Methodist, the Baptist, even the +Spiritualist expounded and sermonized upon the several beauties of the +Protestant faith. Their principal ammunition, however, was expended in +besieging, battering and anathematizing the Catholic Church.</p> + +<p>Every minister had a book for her to read, at home in his library, which +he would bring her, the reading of which would prove convincingly +conclusive. One had Fox, one Hogan, another Kirwan and Maria Monk, and +still another the multitudinous tomes of Julia McNair Wright. As to +Edith O'Gorman—no need to allude to this lately arisen bright +particular star, in whose flood of light, the black sun of Catholicism +was going down. Mary Stuart was not more tortured by Elizabeth's +emissaries, than was Althea by these clever ministers. But the ill-fated +Queen, nursed<a class="pagenum" name="page_225" id="page_225" title="225"></a> from childhood in the faith, was not more unwaveringly +firm than was this six-days' neophyte.</p> + +<p>With this array of ministers, however, was not her greatest trial. They +might deem her stupid, obstinate, blind, and infatuated, but they were +at least gentlemanly and polite. She could reply to them as she thought +best, without danger of having her head taken off. She was even glad of +their presence as they went and came again, because, while they talked, +her husband was for the most part silent.</p> + +<p>And when he demanded that one or other should receive her into his +church, he was in turn offended at them, because they insisted that the +lady's consent was necessary. When the subject was given over, and +everyone had departed finally to his own house, then Althea's true +martyrdom commenced.</p> + +<p>"You have become a believer in Purgatory, and your faith shall spring +from actual knowledge; for as long as you live I will make this house to +you a purgatory," declared the enraged husband, furiously. And he kept +his word. But the good God, omnipotent on earth as in heaven, had said: +"Thus far shalt thou go, but no farther."</p> + +<p>Althea would have remained quiet and resigned, never mentioning the +subject of her faith, but this Thornton would not permit. He would talk +of it incessantly. To Althea it finally became a fire-brand, which, +constantly waving to and fro before her eyes, threatened to turn her +brain to madness.</p> + +<p>She became dangerously ill. A severe fever had set in, to break up which +baffled the physician's skill,<a class="pagenum" name="page_226" id="page_226" title="226"></a> when too late he was called. Thornton +had persisted in not believing her sick, and had taken his own time for +calling in Dr. Hardy.</p> + +<p>Kitty Brett, finding a girl to take her own place, offered her services, +which were accepted, as personal attendant upon Althea. As the +unfortunate lady grew rapidly worse, Mrs. Moffat was engaged as head +nurse.</p> + +<p>This Mrs. Moffat was by many regarded as the salt that saved Windsor. +Windsor would have gone to destruction long ago, physically, but for the +saving help of Mrs. Moffat's hands. True, she was a married woman, and, +like the martyr, was followed by "nine small children, and one at the +breast," but this never prevented her lending a helping hand to any and +every applicant. She could be absent from home a week at a time. The +children could stir up their flour and water, and bake their hard cakes. +They could lie down at night wherever they chanced to give up and fall, +and arise with the morning's sun, ready dressed. Falling down cellar—it +was a trap-door—other people's children would have broken their necks, +but these little Moffats, after turning two or three somersaults, +reached the bottom standing upright. They nursed themselves through +mumps, measles, whooping cough, and all kindred diseases by playing in +the creek; so that Dr. Hardy had serious thoughts of recommending +"creek-playing" as a specific in such cases. They were hearty, hardy +little fellows, all boys but the eldest, and cared nothing more for +their mother's brief visits, after they had had their scramble for the +<i>bon-bons</i> with which she was in the habit of regaling them.<a class="pagenum" name="page_227" id="page_227" title="227"></a></p> + +<p>Mrs. Moffat was, indeed, a most valuable attendant upon the sick. Unlike +most people, she was in her element when in a sick-room. She could +accommodate herself to every situation and emergency. If things and +people did not go to suit her she could go to suit them. There was no +grating, no friction where Mrs. Moffat was; her very presence was +<i>oily</i>, so to say. She could lift people heavier than herself; there +appeared no limit to her powers of endurance. She could watch night and +day without the least detriment to her nerves. She could taste the most +nauseous potions, and submit to most disgusting odors, nor make the +least wry face about it. If she found a patient not very sick she would +sit down and pour forth a gossipy stream of talk for an hour, when, ten +to one, every ailment would be forgotten. There was a charm in her tone, +word, and manner that affected like magic. Of course, this woman had a +drunken husband—such women always have that affliction. There were +those, even in Windsor, who said they did not blame Mr. Moffat for +taking to drink—if <i>their</i> wives were always from home, and the house +forever topsy-turvey, and the children making pyramids of themselves +like a pile of ants, they should take to drinking too. But nobody could +wait on these very people when sick but Mrs. Moffat.</p> + +<p>Althea was sure of the best attention while Mrs. Moffat waited on her; +and this capable person scarcely left her bedside. Kitty Brett was <i>her</i> +right hand, as she herself was Althea's. Kitty was kept upon a steady +march, here, there, and everywhere; and she<a class="pagenum" name="page_228" id="page_228" title="228"></a> was as willing as was her +superior. She could not do enough for one who had been persecuted for +the faith.</p> + +<p>The master of the house kept a steady watch over all. His argus-eye was +ever on the alert lest, despite his vigilance, the Catholic priest +should be smuggled into the house.</p> + +<p>Althea was constantly delirious, and it was feared she might die without +having recovered her reason. The crisis approached, and Dr. Hardy +watched her silently for many hours. He had done his utmost, and though +he hoped faintly he feared the worst. Mrs. Moffat's whispered loquacity +was awed into silence. Kitty wept silently at the foot of the bed, +praying fervently as she wept. Thornton had walked to and fro in his +slippers, his long hands crossed upon each other behind his back, +casting out occasionally fierce glances from his cavernous brows. He +came and stood, like a thundercloud, by the Doctor's side.</p> + +<p>"Any change?" he whispered.</p> + +<p>The doctor shook his head.</p> + +<p>"What do you think, any chance?"</p> + +<p>The doctor looked at his watch, which he had been holding in his hand. +"Yes, while she breathes there's a chance, I suppose," replied the +doctor, without looking up, but changing uneasily his position.</p> + +<p>"Well, I have an awful headache; I will lie down in the next room; if +she is worse, you can call me," and the cloud disappeared.</p> + +<p>Althea had been some time sleeping quietly, neither articulating nor +moaning. Dr. Hardy watched her as only doctors watch their patients. It +was more to him<a class="pagenum" name="page_229" id="page_229" title="229"></a> than a question of life and death—it was somewhat like +the alchemist, trembling with hope and fear over his costly dissolvents.</p> + +<p>At length, Althea's eyes opened, glanced hastily around and closed +again. Dr. Hardy was not surprised. For the last half hour he had been +expecting this, but he had given no sign. When her eyes again opened, he +put some drops to her lips, which she readily swallowed. By-and-bye she +gave a look of thorough consciousness, accompanied with an effort to +speak.</p> + +<p>Again, in an hour, she looked earnestly at Dr. Hardy, and moved her +lips. He bent low to listen, and only himself caught her words: "Send +for the priest."</p> + +<p>Dr. Hardy frowned. Was this old anxiety going yet to ruin all? Couldn't +she die or live without the priest?</p> + +<p>"You are going to get well now," he whispered in reply.</p> + +<p>"Send for Father Ryan, for God's sake," she again repeated, so forcibly +that Kitty caught the words.</p> + +<p>"I will go for him," she said eagerly, but the doctor interfered.</p> + +<p>"No, I will see Mr. Rush;" for the anger of that man and his future +hostility was not a pleasing prospective to the easy-going doctor, ever +ready to propitiate.</p> + +<p>Mr. Rush was like a lion, aroused from his sleep, in which he had found +temporary oblivion of a torturing headache.<a class="pagenum" name="page_230" id="page_230" title="230"></a></p> + +<p>The doctor's words were not audible in the sick room, but Kitty +distinctly heard the reply of Thornton Rush:</p> + +<p>"I tell you I don't care. I don't believe it will make the least +difference. If she has a mind to worry, let her worry; I won't have a +Catholic priest in the house. I'll have the devil first. If she is going +to live, she will live, anyhow. I have never thought she would die yet. +For God's sake, let me alone, and don't waken me again, no matter what +happens."</p> + +<p>The doctor returned with lugubrious visage. But Kitty's was radiant.</p> + +<p>She was seized with a thought or an inspiration, and she whispered:</p> + +<p>"I will take all the blame upon myself; he cannot more than kill me. It +is a good time—he has left orders to be let alone. The priest can come +and go before he knows it," and she darted out without another word.</p> + +<p>The doctor and Mrs. Moffat looked smilingly across at each other in the +faint lamp-light, but neither made a movement for Kitty's detention. As +the faithful girl had said, "the priest came and went" before the master +knew anything about it. And Althea, having passed through her earthly +purgatory, and now hovering, as she thought, upon the borders of death, +had been baptized by water into newness of life, and been strengthened +by that heavenly food, which is more and diviner than the bread of +angels.</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style="margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em"> +<a class="pagenum" name="page_231" id="page_231" title="231"></a> +<a name="MYSTERIOUS_DISAPPEARANCE_6401" id="MYSTERIOUS_DISAPPEARANCE_6401"></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XXVIII.</h2> +<h3>MYSTERIOUS DISAPPEARANCE.</h3> +</div> + +<p>Althea was very weak, but continued slowly to recover. Several days +elapsed, during which time Thornton's pain in the head had been upon the +increase, and other alarming symptoms had been developed. These were +intensely strengthened by the imprudence of a meddlesome neighbor.</p> + +<p>Curtis Coe was Windsor's merchant tailor. He may have been more than the +ninth part of a man in some respects; but when, under pretence of a +friendly call, he informed Thornton Rush, already very sick, that the +priest, Father Ryan, had baptized Althea—we say, when he did this +intentionally and with malice aforethought, and with a sinful love of +tale-bearing, and with utter recklessness as to consequences, he proved +himself infinitely less, even than ordinary tailors of the proverbial +size. He deserved the punishment of being hissed by his own goose.</p> + +<p>The effect of this ill-advised news upon Thornton can be better imagined +than described. What increased it ten-fold was the man's utter impotence +to resent or punish what had been done. His ravings were fearful,<a class="pagenum" name="page_232" id="page_232" title="232"></a> his +imprecations multiplied. Vain were the doctor's warnings that his anger +would aggravate his disease. He continued to rave until he became +unconscious of the words he uttered. To all in the house it was a relief +when this man passed into unconscious delirium. One can listen to insane +blasphemies with sorrow and pity; but only with horror and disgust to +revilings, and railings sanely spoken.</p> + +<p>On that night which followed Curtis Coe's wicked impertinence, two men +sat up with the sick man. They must both have fallen asleep at one and +the same time, for they discovered on coming to their senses, that +Thornton Rush was nowhere to be found. The lamp was burning, even the +fire in the stove had not died out. Having searched the room, they gave +the alarm, and thoroughly searched the house, then all the outhouses, +and finally the town.</p> + +<p>All classes, friend and foe, were aroused. A general panic prevailed. +Each one considered himself in danger, while Thornton Rush, as a +lunatic, was at large. Posters were sent abroad and telegrams announced +the mysterious disappearance to neighboring villages and cities. The +river was dragged, old cellars and wells were dived into.</p> + +<p>Windsor had at length a mystery, and it was an appalling one. People +began to canvass it in whisper. A suspicion began to be bruited around. +We do not affirm that Mrs. Moffat originated this suspicion, but she +whispered it about from house to house. It was to this strange effect, +the Catholics had formed a league and spirited away this enemy of their +faith.<a class="pagenum" name="page_233" id="page_233" title="233"></a> Kitty Brett had boldly set his words at defiance, and the priest +had boldly entered the house he had been forbidden, and baptized and +anointed, and practiced what other witcheries he had no business.</p> + +<p>If Kitty would do this much, and if Father Ryan would do that much, why, +what was there they would <i>not</i> do?</p> + +<p>This view of the case accounted for the wise solemnity prevailing among +the Catholics generally. They were observed to purse up their mouths, +and shake their heads; and one old patriarch had been heard to say that +the Evil One had got his own. Why should he say that, if he did not know +something about it?</p> + +<p>It became another Morgan affair. Women began to turn off Catholic +servant girls. There was a strong talk of discharging every Irishman +from the Mills and Railroad. A continual espionage upon the movements of +the Catholics was kept up. Traps were laid for self-committal. Bribes +were offered and promises of security to any who would turn State's +evidence. Threats were made here and there that leading Catholics should +be arrested; at all events, the ringleader should be made to suffer. All +seemed to settle down upon that Father Ryan must necessarily have been +the aider and abettor, if not the suggestor, in such a high-handed +proceeding. It mattered not, that during his five years' stay at +Windsor, he had lived peaceably and orderly, and set a good example. All +that served but a cloak to just such deeds as this kidnapping of a +respectable citizen.</p> + +<p>This whirlwind of talk, however, amounted to<a class="pagenum" name="page_234" id="page_234" title="234"></a> nothing more. The Catholic +population was getting stronger every day; it was surprising how many +new families kept pouring in. So it happened no one dared lay hands on +Father Ryan.</p> + +<p>Autumn passed into winter, and winter merged into spring, still no trace +had been discovered of the missing man.</p> + +<p>Althea had entirely recovered the health and bloom of youth. She was +never more beautiful than now, at the still early age of twenty-two. She +had mourned for her husband only as for a soul that was lost. She +believed he must have perished in some strange way, and her daily prayer +was that the manner of his death might some time be brought to light. +The good God had snatched herself from the verge of the grave. He had +said unto her, through his servant, "wait, and trust in God," and God +had delivered her out of her troubles. She lived alone at Vine Cottage, +the faithful Kitty her servant and companion.</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style="margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em"> +<a class="pagenum" name="page_235" id="page_235" title="235"></a> +<a name="HUBERTS_SECOND_VISIT_6497" id="HUBERTS_SECOND_VISIT_6497"></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XXIX.</h2> +<h3>HUBERT'S SECOND VISIT.</h3> +</div> + +<p>In June, the month of roses, came Hubert Lisle to visit Althea. He came +thus early in her presumed widowhood, to woo her for his wife. But she +would not hear one word of love from his lips. She had studied her +religion, and found that its laws forbade marriage with another until +abundant proof had been obtained of the death of her husband. So far, +she had but proof presumptive. He had disappeared at such a time and in +such a state as, to most minds, forbade even a possibility that he +should have continued to exist. Again, the Catholic rule forbade the +marriage of cousins.</p> + +<p>Hubert urged to this that they were not strictly cousins. His father and +her mother were but half-brother and sister.</p> + +<p>Again, the Catholic Church did not forbid, but strongly discountenanced +the marriage of a Catholic with a Protestant. She, Althea, loved her +Church so well, she would not do that which the Church disapproved.</p> + +<p>These were three great obstacles in the way then, to his marriage with +Althea, Hubert found. He began<a class="pagenum" name="page_236" id="page_236" title="236"></a> to think he had now a more formidable +opponent in the Church than he had had in Thornton Rush. He had +succeeded in winning from Althea a promise to sue for a divorce. The +rest would be easy. But he found it impossible, with all his eloquence, +to prevail upon her to take one step contrary even to the wish of this +more tyrannical guardian. He even went to the priest. He had seen Father +Ryan at Mass, for, of course, he accompanied his cousin. He judged from +his open, honest face that it would be an easy matter to win him over to +his views. He entered upon the subject confidently, but ended very much +discomfited. Father Ryan would listen to but one point, which was that +Althea was not at liberty to entertain thoughts of marriage until +conclusive proof was obtained of her husband's death. Hubert reverting +to the other points—"All that comes afterward," was all the priest +would say.</p> + +<p>"But, supposing nothing more is ever heard of Thornton Rush, which is +almost certain, is Althea to live a widow to the end of her days?" +questioned Hubert incredulously.</p> + +<p>"Yes," replied the priest. "And allow me to intimate," he continued +gently, "that, entertaining the dispositions you do, it is improper you +should remain a guest at Vine Cottage. As a cousin you were privileged, +perhaps, according to your Protestant views, but as you are a suitor, it +is quite different."</p> + +<p>Having politely listened to these words of the priest, he wisely made up +his mind to take his leave, before he should hear them reiterated from +the lips of Althea.<a class="pagenum" name="page_237" id="page_237" title="237"></a></p> + +<p>"Well, cousin," presenting himself before her, on returning from the +priest's, "I have had the courage, or the impudence, to consult Father +Ryan; he is as inexorable as yourself. It is astonishing with what an +iron will this Catholic faith infuses people. Last fall you promised to +marry me, although a thousand difficulties were to be overcome. Now, +that you are your own mistress, according to every human probability, +and you are at perfect liberty, free from any scruples about the right +and wrong of the thing, and yet—and yet how strange! You have scruples +more binding a hundred fold. And Father Ryan, the gentlest, quietest +person, whom you would not believe could say <i>no</i>, whom I made sure I +could prevail upon to intercede for me, is just as resolute as Napoleon, +as unyielding as Draco. What does it mean? Is it in the religion or +what?"</p> + +<p>"I believe, Hubert, it is the love of God in the heart. We love God +better than the world, or aught the world can offer. We love God so +well, that we fear to break His holy law," replied Althea.</p> + +<p>"But others love God too, who are not Catholics, but they are not so +inexorably bound."</p> + +<p>"They have not the restraints of the Church. They have not its laws to +govern them, its teachings to instruct, its pastors to guide and direct. +Moreover, they cannot expect heavenly graces in abundance who are out of +the true Church. Christ's promise of assistance is to His Church, His +anathema against those who will not hear it."</p> + +<p>"It looks to me as though you had taken upon<a class="pagenum" name="page_238" id="page_238" title="238"></a> yourself a yoke, and the +bonds of servitude," Hubert remarked disconsolately.</p> + +<p>"The bonds of the dear Lord Jesus, yes," and Althea's countenance glowed +with enthusiasm.</p> + +<p>"But Christian bonds should not press so heavily. Protestants in all +these things do as they please, yet they profess to be bound with the +same fetters."</p> + +<p>"Profess! what use in professing when every day they burst them asunder +as would they gossamer threads? I assure you, Hubert, that is one of the +beauties of the Catholic Church. Its laws are so binding, its teachings +so direct, its discipline so perfect, that one cannot stray away +blindly. The obedient child who would be pained not to do the Father's +will is kept in the straight and narrow way, the light is held steadily +before his eyes; if he stumble or turn aside he is brought back, and if +he become restive and the 'fetters,' grateful to the loving child, bind +too galling he throws them off, more willing to be lost than bear +self-denial for the present. For myself, Hubert, I have started for +heaven, confident of arriving if I follow the path marked out for me. If +I do not follow in that path I have no hope but of straying far from +that desired haven, the happy land of souls."</p> + +<p>"Althea, I believe you have never loved me," suddenly exclaimed Hubert, +steadily regarding his cousin.</p> + +<p>"That is a cruel assertion, and it wounds me more than you can think," +returned the lady, deeply moved. "Would I could forget that I ever loved +you! The memory recalls my sin, my shame, and, thank God,<a class="pagenum" name="page_239" id="page_239" title="239"></a> my +repentance. I deserve that you should recall all this to me, but I pray +you, if you have regard for me, never to refer to this again."</p> + +<p>"Forgive me, Althea, I did not intend thus to pain you. You are right +and I am wrong. While regretting, I honor you the more for the noble +stand you have taken. I go, Althea, and should I ever come again, you +shall behold me worthier, God willing. I shall think of you as resting +under the very shadow of heaven, and no ill, I am sure, will betide you. +Farewell, and God will help you."</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style="margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em"> +<a class="pagenum" name="page_240" id="page_240" title="240"></a> +<a name="AND_THE_SEA_SHALL_GIVE_UP_ITS_DEAD_6619" id="AND_THE_SEA_SHALL_GIVE_UP_ITS_DEAD_6619"></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XXX.</h2> +<h3>"AND THE SEA SHALL GIVE UP ITS DEAD."</h3> +</div> + +<p>The summer at Windsor was an unprecedently hot one. No rain in July, no +rain in August, and September's sun was shining fiercely down upon +parched earth, dried up rivers, panting animals, and complaining men. +There would be no wheat, no corn; potatoes were dwarfed, and vegetables +literally dried and hardened. Grass would be light, and cattle would be +starved, if not first choked with thirst. The heavens were as brass, the +fiery atmosphere like that of a furnace. Was there about to be a general +conflagration, "when the earth and the heavens should be rolled together +as a scroll?"</p> + +<p>The great Mississippi was never so low. Inquiring urchins made +explorations up and down the dried banks with all the enthusiasm of +explorers of the Nile. Even the women of Windsor proposed a bold feat. +This was none other than in a body to ford the Mississippi. It would be +something worth telling of, when, after some flood, the river should +widen to the space of a mile.</p> + +<p>Accordingly, old calico wrappers were brought into requisition, and a +small army of women stood upon<a class="pagenum" name="page_241" id="page_241" title="241"></a> the shores. You might have thought from +the voices of fear, hesitation, reproach, and encouragement, another Red +Sea was before them, and behind them a Pharaoh's host. All the women of +Windsor were not engaged in this expedition. Some were milking cows, and +some were putting dear little children to sleep; some were preparing +late suppers for dilatory husbands, and not a few were gathered together +in knots, discussing the impropriety and scandal of such a bold +proceeding.</p> + +<p>Our heroine at Vine Cottage, entirely unaware of the movement, was +enjoying the twilight in playing soft airs upon the piano.</p> + +<p>To one uninformed, a pow-wow of Indians might have been supposed to be +going on. There were shrieks and wails, and screams of laughter, and +cries of terror. There were threatenings, scoldings, and coaxings. Were +all the grammars in the world made up of interjections they could +scarcely have contained the list that rent the air, between the two +Mississippi shores, upon that eventful night. The heavens were still +above, though they might have been supposed to have disappeared +entirely, so loudly and fervently were they invoked.</p> + +<p>"Why, it is enough to raise the dead," exclaimed a solitary traveler, a +stranger in town, perambulating a neighboring bluff.</p> + +<p>As the vociferating army neared the opposite shore, there was a +momentary silence; that breathless silence which precedes the storm. +Then uprose such a terrific scream, such a commingled shout of horror, +as only<a class="pagenum" name="page_242" id="page_242" title="242"></a> frightened women can give vent to. This brought men, women and +children in throngs to the scene. Some leaped into boats, some walked in +to the rescue. The majority awaited ashore the unfolding of events.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Sharp had caught her foot in something as she was about to ascend +the opposite bank. In attempting to save herself, she fell with her +hands upon the soggy substance that had intercepted her. She was a +thorough-going woman, and determined to ascertain what lay like a log in +her path, the water scarcely covering it. She prevailed upon two or +three to assist her in dragging it upward partially to the dim +light—when lo! within a saturated, slimy bed-comforter was a human +form! It was brought across to Windsor, officials summoned, and, despite +decomposition and fearful change, recognized to be the remains of +Thornton Rush! There was great sensation, and a faint revival of +whispers about his having been spirited away to his death by Popish +emissaries; but these soon died, for want of breath, as the Irishman +would say.</p> + +<p>The death of Mr. Rush was, by the majority, accounted for naturally. In +his delirium he had strayed he knew not whither. He had grasped the +heavy quilt tightly around him, which, held firmer in the clasp of the +dead, had filled with water, and prevented the body from rising.</p> + +<p>It seemed unaccountable that when the river was dragged it should not +have been discovered: are not mysteries, however, every day transpiring +before our eyes, about which we marvel in vain?</p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<div style="margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em"> +<a class="pagenum" name="page_243" id="page_243" title="243"></a> +<a name="CONCLUSION_6699" id="CONCLUSION_6699"></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XXXI.</h2> +<h3>CONCLUSION.</h3> +</div> + +<p>To-day, Althea is the happy wife of Hubert Lisle and the honored +mistress of Kennons, which is bright and beautiful again with sweet +woman's presence.</p> + +<p>Two obstacles to the union of Hubert and Althea had disappeared. She had +been proved to be matrimonially free, and he had become, from study and +conviction, a full believer in her faith, of which he made open +profession. The fact that they were cousins still remained. As there +were considerable delays in the consummation of the marriage, it was +doubtless owing to the smoothing away of this difficulty. And as both +parties hold the Holy Father in most grateful and loving remembrance, +and their most cherished design is to make him a visit at his prison in +the Vatican, it is probable that a dispensation from Rome severed the +last link of obstruction, and permitted Father Ryan, willingly at last, +to tie the Gordion Knot.</p> + +<p>Arriving at Kennons, Althea, of course, paid her respects to Mrs. Lisle +at Thornton Hall. She found her in a deplorable situation. A seated +cancer upon<a class="pagenum" name="page_244" id="page_244" title="244"></a> the face was eating away her life, as it had already +destroyed every vestige of her former beauty.</p> + +<p>She had great difficulty in prevailing upon servants to attend her. She +was so irritable and so offensive that even money could not purchase +aid.</p> + +<p>And what did Althea? Sacrificed every ill-feeling, overcame repulsion, +put up with taunts and cross words, and waited on Thornton Rush's mother +as if she had been her own. And this in the happy beginning of her +wedded life with Hubert Lisle. And what reward had she? None in this +life, save the consciousness of having struggled to overcome nature, to +render good for evil, and to perform that loving charity which our +Saviour commended in the Samaritan, and ever inculcates in His Church.</p> + +<p>Notwithstanding Althea's patient, persistent efforts, Rusha Lisle, +having hardened her heart, died in her sins.</p> + +<p>To Althea, who stood above her dying bed, she whispered hoarsely:</p> + +<p>"You have done all this for the sake of my property. I understood all. +You will find out I wasn't fooled up to the last. You couldn't cheat me +with your quiet, gentle ways; ha! ha!" and the wretched woman went out +in the night of death, comprehending not the sweet, Christian life of +such as Althea, but believing all natures dark and cruel as her own. It +was from her own she drew her judgment of another.</p> + +<p>She had bequeathed all her property to an idle cousin, whom it will but +accelerate in his downward course of idleness and dissipation.</p> + +<p>Arrangements had all been made for a visit to Europe, and particularly +to Rome, as soon as possible<a class="pagenum" name="page_245" id="page_245" title="245"></a> after Mrs. Lisle's death. Here, again, was +a disappointment.</p> + +<p>Letters were received from Turkey, from the hand of Althea's father. He +had lost his second wife, Emily Dean. He was about to sail for America, +and should bring his two youngest children, little girls, aged +respectively six and eight, whom he hoped Althea would make room for in +her new home. He was unable to embark as soon as was intended, and +arrived six weeks later than was designed.</p> + +<p>Philip St. Leger, then, arrived once more at Kennons. His hair was +silvery white. He was firm, erect, and still very fine looking. It was a +sad place, however, for the Missionary, who began to feel the world to +be receding from his grasp.</p> + +<p>He talked with Hubert, somewhat at length, upon the subject of his +religion. To Althea he made no allusion concerning it. He, doubtless, +judged her to have become as infatuated, and "wedded to her idols" as he +had found to be his sister, Juliet. He could not help from perceiving, +blind as he was, that there was a very great change for the better in +this same sister, whose folly and levity he well remembered.</p> + +<p>He soon returned to Turkey, accompanied by a third wife. This time, Mrs. +St. Leger was not a pupil from the famous seminary. Philip had acquired +wisdom, perhaps, with time, and was glad to take a maiden lady of forty +acknowledged years, who was a most amiable, warm-hearted woman by the +name of Snow, Lucy being her first name. Success to Philip and his bride +as they sail across the seas, nearing that grand<a class="pagenum" name="page_246" id="page_246" title="246"></a> sea that rolls around +all the world! Their own disappointments have met Hubert and Althea. But +these have no power to disturb their patience and serenity. They have +established schools for the whites and the blacks on their estate, and +are teaching the doctrines and practices of the new Faith.</p> + +<p>The cars run through Flat Rock. This point has become quite a town, and +a small Catholic church tells by its cross and altar that the true faith +hath found its way thither. To this church come Hubert and Althea, +Sundays and holidays. Maria and Frances, Althea's young sisters, come +with them; for it was only upon this condition that Hubert would receive +them. That Philip St. Leger should have consented to this, proves that a +change has come over him since a score of years. Kitty Brett is Althea's +faithful attendant. She chose to leave all her friends, rather than be +separated from the woman whose life she had helped to save.</p> + +<p>Amy and Chloe, old cronies, as they term themselves, look bright and +young again, along with Kennon's rejuvenation. They hold long discourses +over their pipes and snuff about the past and present, their deepest +regret being that Master Duncan could not have lived to see this +realization of his dearest wishes.</p> + +<p>Every Sunday they go and sprinkle his grave and that of Ellice with holy +water. They kneel by the cross which Hubert and Althea have planted, +and, folding piously their homely hands, thank God for the return of the +one, the gift of the other, and for the Cross, and the Light, and the +Crown they have brought with them to dear old Kennons.</p> + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HUBERT'S WIFE***</p> +<p>******* This file should be named 21949-h.txt or 21949-h.zip *******</p> +<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br /> +<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/1/9/4/21949">http://www.gutenberg.org/2/1/9/4/21949</a></p> +<p>Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed.</p> + +<p>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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For +example an eBook of filename 10234 would be found at: + +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/0/2/3/10234 + +or filename 24689 would be found at: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/4/6/8/24689 + +An alternative method of locating eBooks: +<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/GUTINDEX.ALL">http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/GUTINDEX.ALL</a> + +*** END: FULL LICENSE *** +</pre> +</body> +</html> diff --git a/21949.txt b/21949.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..947c8c1 --- /dev/null +++ b/21949.txt @@ -0,0 +1,7186 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, Hubert's Wife, by Minnie Mary Lee + + +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: Hubert's Wife + A Story for You + + +Author: Minnie Mary Lee + + + +Release Date: June 27, 2007 [eBook #21949] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HUBERT'S WIFE*** + + +E-text prepared by Roger Frank and the Project Gutenberg Online +Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) + + + +HUBERT'S WIFE: + +A Story for You. + +by + +MINNIE MARY LEE. + + + + + + + +"There is a way which seemeth just to a man, but the end thereof leadeth +unto death."--Prov. xlv, 12. + + +Baltimore: +Published by John B. Piet +Late Kelly, Piet & Co. +Entered, according to an act of Congress, in the year 1873, by +Kelly, Piet & Company, +in the office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington, D. C. + + + +CONTENTS. + +I. A Black Conference 1 +II. The Master of Kennons 7 +III. An Interruption to Duncan's Reverie 14 +IV. Philip St. Leger 19 +V. The Missionary's Retrospect 30 +VI. Missionary Life 37 +VII. The Distinguished Traveler's Views 45 +VIII. The Visitation by Spirit and by Death 52 +IX. The New Choice 60 +X. "A Dream which was not all a Dream" 71 +XI. Althea's Guardians 77 +XII. The Christening 88 +XIII. New Mistress at Kennons 97 +XIV. China--Uncle Mat's Prayer Meeting 109 +XV. Kizzie 118 +XVI. Time and Change 126 +XVII. The St. Legers 135 +XVIII. St. Mark's or St. Patrick's? 145 +XIX. "In such an hour as ye think not" 154 +XX. Juliet 164 +XXI. "The Spider and the Fly" 172 +XXII. Althea--Death of Little Johnny 181 +XXIII. Hubert Lisle at Vine Cottage 193 +XXIV. Jealousy 201 +XXV. The Awakening 208 +XXVI. Light after Darkness 213 +XXVII. The Convert's Trials 221 +XXVIII. Mysterious Disappearance 231 +XXIX. Hubert's Second Visit 235 +XXX. "And the Sea shall give up its Dead" 240 +XXXI. Conclusion 243 + + + + +CHAPTER I. + +A BLACK CONFERENCE. + + +It was the night after the funeral. Ellice Lisle, the loving wife, +devoted mother, kind mistress, and generous friend, had been laid away +to rest; over her pulseless bosom had been thrown the red earth of her +adopted Virginia, and, mingled with its mocking freshness, was the +bitter rain of tears from the eyes of all who had known the lowly +sleeper. Even Nature joined the general weeping; for, though the early +morning had been bright and beautiful, ere the mourners' feet had left +the new-made grave, the skies had lowered, and a gentle rain descended. + +"_You_ have pity upon me, O Heaven, and you weep for me, O earth," had +exclaimed Duncan Stuart Lisle, as, leading his little Hubert by the +hand, he turned away from his lost Ellice. + +As night deepened, the rain increased, and the darkness became intense. +The house-servants, timid and superstitious, had all congregated in Aunt +Amy's cabin. Amidst their grief, sincere and profound, was yet a subject +of indignation, which acted as a sort of safety-valve to their over-much +sorrowing. + +"A nice, pretty piece of impudence it was, to be sure, when she hadn't +been in the house for five year, to 'trude herself the minute Miss +Ellice's breath had left her precious body, the poor dear!" ejaculated +Chloe, the cook, who was intensely black, and fat to immensity. + +"Much as ever Massa Duncan 'peared to notice her, not'standing she make +herself so 'ficious," said Amy, who looked more the Indian than African. + +"He never set eyes on her but once," said young China, the favorite +housemaid, whose dialect and manners were superior to those of the other +servants, "only just once, and that was when she looked at him so long +and fierce-like he couldn't actually keep his eyes down." + +"I see it my own self," added Chloe, whose small orbs were almost buried +beneath overhanging cliffs of brow and uprising mountains of cheek, "and +I'll tell you what I tinks: I tinks just den and dere, dat if we's meet +de ole one hisself he wouldn't hab no eyes, cause Misses Rusha Rush jes +done gone an' stole 'em." + +This dark reference caused a closer grouping of the sable dames and +damsels. Trembling hands drew small plaid shawls closer about the +shoulders, while one bolder than the rest cast a huge pine-knot upon the +glowing coals. + +Amy was first to break the brief silence. + +"Mighty pity Jude Rush ever fell off 'Big Thunderbolt' and broke his +slim neck! But Massa Duncan knew nuf once to let Miss Rusha 'lone; he's +not gwine to be 'veigled by none o' her hilofical airs--you may 'pend on +dat; 'specially when he's had dat sweet saint all to hisself now dese so +many year--no, neber." + +And Amy reiterated this over and over, as if to kill the secret thought +which haunted her against her will. + +"She persume to come here and order you dis way an' I dat way, an' all +us all 'round ebry which way--oo--but I gived her a piece o' my mind," +spake Margery, the weaver, very irate. + +"Umph! I never seed ye speak to her," said Amy, doubtingly. + +"Not wid my tongue, mind ye. I knows better den dat. But I jes spit fire +at her out of my eyes." + +"Fire neber burn Miss Rusha; she too ugly for dat. S'pose fire burn de +ole Nick? Den he be done dead and gone, which ain't so; derefore nuthin' +ever fall Miss Rusha; she never sick, nor die, nor drown, nor burn up. +Miss Ellice she sick, she die, 'cause she be an angel; she go home to +glory; but Miss Rusha she live, jes to trouble white folks, jes to +torment niggers." + +Wrathful Amy, as she said this, glanced triumphantly at Margery, who was +about to speak, when Chloe took the floor, figuratively. + +"Tank de Lord, we ain't de niggers what she's got to torment; and she +needn't be setting her cap for our own good Massa Duncan; she may jes +hang up high her fiddle on de willows o' Bab'lon; she sit down an' weep +on de streams; she neber hab good Massa Duncan; neber while de trees on +Kennons grow and de stars 'bove Kennons shine." + +Kennons was the name of the Lisle plantation. + +"She'd like to jine the two plantations. One is too little for her to +rule. She's allus wanted our south 'bacco patch. Her hundred niggers and +Massa's hundred would make a crew. O, she's a shrewd one; she sees +further than her nose. She'd make my shettle fly fast as Aunt Kizzie's." + +"Somebody ought to make your shuttle fly faster than is its habit, +Margery," returned China, usually quiet and gentle. "But what if you are +all mistaken, and Mistress Rush has no idea of making a rush upon +Kennons and our good master." + +"O, you poor innocent," quoth Chloe and Amy at the same time. "Haven't +we eyes? What's they for if not to see with? They ain't in the backs of +our heads neither. We've got ears too; we don't hear with our elbows. +What for did she bring nice things and pretties for Hubert? and what for +did she take such a wonderful interest in de poor baby? Bress us, is de +baby wake or sleep, or what is come of it? We's all forgettin' de dear +precious objec. Sakes alive, an' its nearly smuddered in its soft +blankets, worked so beau'fully wid its own moder's hand." + +A sleeping-powder, administered to the three days' old infant had, for a +time, quieted its incessant cries. This sudden mention brought every +dark face to bend low over the cradle, which Bessie, the nurse, had +brought hither from the house, that she might share the gossip of her +companions. + +Worn out with weeping and watching, Bessie lay prone and sleeping upon +the floor at the cradle's side. Satisfied that the baby still breathed, +Chloe, Amy, Margery, China and Dinah settled back into their seats, like +so many crows upon a branch. + +Dinah, the last-named, had been thus far fast asleep; and provoked with +herself that she had lost a share of the gossip, she gave Bessie a +vigorous push with her foot as she passed her, not through charity, nor +yet through malice, but through a sudden spasm of ill-nature. + +Bessie gave a groan and sat up. She gazed around wildly--slowly +comprehended the scene, the present, the past, and, with another groan, +flung herself upon the floor again. + +"You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Dinah, to disturb Bessie in that +way," said China, between whom and Bessie was a warm friendship. "She +has cried so, and broken her heart." + +"She needn't be in people's way, then--who's going 'round Robinhood's +barn for sake o' likes o' her?" said Dinah, complainingly. + +"Shut your mouth, black Dinah," cried Amy authoritatively. "Ye's a +pretty one to knock around a sleepin' nigger. You's been asleep yourself +the last hour. S'pose we'd all been like you--you'd been kicked into a +heap--but we ain't--and you never _did_ have a drop o' human kindness." + +"O, go 'way wid your quarreling. Dinah is jis like a firebran'; let her +'lone. What she got to do wid dis subjec-matter in han', I like a-know?" +queried Aunt Chloe, swaying up to the mantle, filling her pipe with +tobacco, and adding thereto the smallest glowing coal upon the hearth. +Meantime, while she is preparing for a smoke, her companions have taken +from their pockets, each a tin snuff-box and a mop, which mop consists +of a small twig, chewed at the end into threads or fibers. This mop, wet +with saliva, is thrust into the box of Scotch snuff, thence thrust into +the mouth, and worked around upon the teeth much to the delight and +constant spitting of the performer. This operation, so prevalent both +among white and black women of the South, is called "_dipping_ snuff." + +Having followed our sable friends from grief to indignation, and from +indignation to the charming amusement of snuff-dipping, we will enter +the house and make acquaintance with its master. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +THE MASTER'S CONFERENCE WITH HIMSELF. + + +It was late in September, and chilly for the season. A bright fire +glowed upon the hearth in the "lady's chamber" at Kennons. Red curtains +shaded the windows, and drooped in folds to the floor. Roses and green +leaves seemed springing up out of the carpet to meet the light and +warmth that radiated from the small semicircle behind the glittering +fender. A bed hung with white curtains, a dressing bureau, with its +fancy pincushion, and numerous cut-glass bottles of perfumery, a lounge +covered with bright patchwork, and furnished with log-cabin cushions, +easy-chairs and ottomans, together with the workstand and its +inseparable little basket filled with every indispensable for +needlework--all, all bore the trace of woman's hand. + +For nine years this had been the loved family-room of Duncan and Ellice +Lisle. + +Now, Ellice was forever gone. Her foot had passed the threshold, to come +in, to go out, no more. Her canary hung in the window; how could he sing +on the morrow, missing _her_ accustomed voice? Her picture hung over the +mantle, looking down with the old-time brightness upon the the solitary +figures beforefire--Duncan and his child. + +Hubert, the son, in his eighth year, sitting clasped in his father's +arms, had pierced anew that tortured heart by asking questions about his +mother and the mystery of death, which no human mind can answer. The +child was in a vortex of wonder, grief and speculation. It was the first +great lesson of his life, and he would learn it well, the more that it +was so severe and incomprehensible. But sleep and fatigue overcame +Hubert at length. The light from the fire no more danced with his +shifting curls, but settled down in a steady golden glow over the mass +that mingled its yellow-brown with the black beard of the stricken man. +For the father would not lay away his sleeping child. He held him close, +as the something, the all that was left to him of his lost love. His +head drooped low and his lips rested in a long embrace of the child's +soft wealth of hair. + +Mayhap some watching spirit took pity upon the man bereaved; for while +he gazed into the fire, the heavy pressure of the present yielded to a +half-conscious memory of the past, and a dream-like reverie brightened +and darkened, flickered and burned in and out with the red of the flame, +and the white of the ashes. + +Duncan Lisle was a boy again. With two little brothers and a half-dozen +black child-retainers, he hunted in the woods of Kennons, sailed boats +on the red waters of the Roanoke, rode break-neck races over the old +fields, despising fences high, and ditches deep, and vigorously sought +specimens of uncouth, out-of-the-way beast, bird and insect. He studied +mathematics and classics, played pranks upon one tutor, and did loving +reverence to another. He planted flowers upon his own mother's grave, +and filled the vases of his stepmother with her own favorite lilacs and +roses. He made houses, carriages, swings, sets of furniture, and all +sorts of constructions for his half-sister Della, who was his junior by +ten years at least. + +He edified, not to say terrified, the dusky crowd of juveniles with +jack-o'-lanterns, impromptu giants and brigands, false faces, fire +crackers, ventriloquism and sleight-of-hand performances. + +With a decided propensity for fun and mischief, there was also in his +disposition as evident a proclivity to seriousness and earnestness. If +it gave him delight to play off upon a stranger the joke of "bagging the +game," he enjoyed with equal ardor the correct rendering of a difficult +translation, or the solution of an intricate problem. + +If sometimes he annoyed with his untimely jest, he always won by his +manly openness and uniform kindliness of nature. He cherished love for +all that was around him, both animate and lifeless. Soul and Nature +therefore rendered back to him their meed of harmonious sympathy. + +Duncan was scarcely seventeen when the Plague swept over Kennons. That +mysterious blight, rising in the orient, traveling darkly and surely +unto the remotest West, laid its blackened hand upon the fair House of +Kennons. + +Cholera! fearful by name and by nature, it was not so strange that thy +skeleton fingers should clutch at the myriad-headed city, situate by +river and by sea, but thou wert insatiable! Proud dwellings and lowly +cots in green fields and midst waving woods thou didst not spare; for +thy victim, the human form, was there. + +In the middle of August, the skies shone over Kennons happy and fair. +Some cousins came down from the city seeking safety--bringing, alas, +suffering and death! + +In one little month, how fearful a change! + +Duncan Lisle, sitting before the fire on this sad rainy evening, after +the lapse of twenty years, shudders as he recalls the blackened pall +that seemed spread over earth and air. + +Strange to say, the disease prevailed least amongst the frightened +servants. + +The hundred were perhaps decimated. + +In the house only Duncan and his half-sister Della survived; they in +fact escaped the contagion. The father, a strong, healthy man, struggled +bravely with the fierce attack; he even rallied, until there was good +hope of his recovery. But a sudden relapse bore him swiftly beyond +mortal remedy. Duncan, in his reverie, closes his eyes, to shut out the +fearful memory. He glides over his college years and his sister's course +at school. He sees Jerusha Thornton in her youth and pride and beauty. +She waves off the many suitors in her train, only to smile winsomely at +the young master of Kennons. Her estate is equal to, and adjoins his +own. He has known her from her childhood--he loves no other--and still +he loves not her. He revolves the reason of this in his own mind. She +has beauty, wealth, accomplishments. He gives no credence to rumors of +her cruelty to servants, though aware of her haughtiness to all, and her +disdain to inferiors. The high favor which she showed to him would be +welcomed with joy by at least a half-dozen of his acquaintance. But +this, her manifest preference, did not please Duncan Lisle--there might +be no accounting for it, but it was a fact. + +What was to be done? Kennons needed sadly a woman at its head. Its +master had come to be nearly twenty-eight, and not married yet! + +The servants were in a state of terrified suspense, lest he _should_ +bring Miss Rusha as their mistress. They wished their master to +marry--they would dance for joy--but it must be some other young lady +than the heiress of Thornton Hall. + +Delia had been to a Northern school nearly five years; she would soon be +eighteen, and was about to graduate. + +As very young girls, Della and Rusha had known each other. For many +years, however, having been at different schools they had rarely met. + +Duncan held a faint impression that his half-sister had never been at +all partial to this near neighbor of his. She was coming home so soon, +he had such confidence in her judgment and womanly intuitions, he would +await her coming, and see if she could divine why it was that while he +_would_ be attracted to Rusha Thornton he could not. + +Besides, Della was not returning home alone. Ellice Linwood had been for +five years her most intimate chosen friend, and room-mate. Ellice was +the only child of a widowed Presbyterian clergyman. Her father had spent +all he had to bestow upon her, in her education. This being thorough and +complete, in the way such terms are used, she was henceforth to support +herself by teaching. + +In order to avoid a deplorable separation, these two young friends had +put their wits together, and lo, the result! Through Della's good +brother Duncan, a situation had been secured for Ellice in the family of +Col. Anderson, not over six miles from Kennons. They would speedily +become excellent equestrians, these friends, and annihilate the narrow +space every day in the year. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +AN INTERRUPTION TO DUNCAN'S REVERIE. + + +Duncan Lisle, still gazing vacantly into the varying flames, performed +anew the journey, not from Kennons to Troy on the Hudson, but from the +latter city, via New York, back to his Virginian plantation. His sister +and Ellice Linwood were his companions, for it had been arranged that, +though Ellice's session of school was not to commence for a couple of +months, yet she should thus early undertake the journey for sake of the +company; and Della's home was to be hers also in the intervening time. + +Della and Ellice! They flitted hither and thither before Duncan's mental +vision, as they had on that memorable journey. Just free from the +irksome restraints of the school-room, full of joyous anticipations, +they gave way to that girlish gayety, and that unbounded enthusiasm, +which a thorough sense of happiness and enjoyment cannot fail to +inspire. Life was before them beautiful, glorious, and without end! This +was only nine years ago--and now! + +As we look through Duncan's eyes, we see that Della was the taller and +more graceful of the two. Her hair and complexion were rather dark than +fair; long, dark eyelashes shaded eyes deep blue, dreamy and wondrous +in expression. We never mind much a nose, unless it be ugly to a +deformity, or a model for the sculptor. An Angelo would have thrilled at +sight of Della's nose, and straightway wrought it into immortality, +_alto relievo_. Her mouth and chin were as lovely and divinely rounded +as any Madonna's. The shape of her head was superb; and she wore her +hair, which was truly a glory in itself, somewhat like a crown, which +left her finely curved ear liberty to show itself and to hear everything +that was going on. Many would have rhapsodised over her lithe, slender +form. Not we. More admirable that faithful approach to those olden +models of the human form that exist in artists' studios and adorn grand +rooms of princely connoisseurs. + +Nature is everywhere lovely. Had the ancient Greeks chiselled but the +wasp waists of our modern belles, their hideous works would have sunk +into oblivion in as little time as our self-made martyrs drop into early +graves. + +Not saying that Della Lisle, whose waist you could _not_ "span with your +two hands," had foolishly contributed to make less its natural size, but +it was painfully suggestive of weakened lungs and an early translation. + +Ellice, on the contrary, possessed a low, plump figure, all curve and +dimple, with no appearance of angularity or stiffness. She had a fair, +round face, cheeks in which roses came and went, laughing blue eyes, a +wide, low brow, auburn curls, nose not _retrousse_, but the least bit +inclined that way, white teeth, somewhat large, but pretty, that really +_did_ look like pearls between such cherry-red lips. + +You might stand in respect and admiration before the dignified and +intellectual Della Lisle; but Ellice Linwood you would take to your +heart. If you were gay, she would laugh with you; if serious, she would +become pensive; if sick, she would soothe and comfort you. + +She was the most unselfish creature in existence. Self-denial ceased to +become such to her; her happiness was in yours alone. + +All things about the plantation brightened in presence of these two +young maidens. Old servants grew more youthful, the young wiser and +happier, and all, from black to brown, from young to old, as they looked +upon the bright face of the northern stranger, turned dreamer and +prophet. And this is what they dreamed and wished and foretold: that +Master Duncan would make Ellice his wife and keep her forever. + +And Duncan? Well, while such a spirit of prophecy reigned all around +him, it is not to be supposed that it fell not on him also. He thought +no more of seeking from his wise sister the solution of his antipathy to +Miss Thornton. There was no room in his mind now for aught outside his +home. + +In three weeks he asked Ellice to be his wife. The same day he +dispatched a letter to the Principal of the Troy Ladies' Seminary, +soliciting a teacher for Colonel Anderson; another message, also, to the +father of his affianced, begging him to come down at once and perform +the marriage ceremony for his daughter. + +This was doing up business very expeditiously. Of course it was soon +noised near and far, that great quantities of snow-white cake were being +made at Kennons kitchen. Servants would talk; little pitchers had ears, +and birds carried news. + +Miss Thornton went in state to call upon the strangers. She saw at a +glance how matters stood, or were going to stand. She could have torn +out Ellice's happy heart. As it was, she bowed to all haughtily as a +queen, casting her last contemptuous glance at Miss Linwood's face. + +Miss Thornton ordered to be driven rapidly homeward; and, as she was +whirled along, her thoughts, in a swifter whirl, she meditated and +resolved. + +Before the bewildered clergyman could make his way down from the North, +before the goddess of Rumor herself had even suspected such a thing, +Miss Thornton's whole retinue of suitors, and the people at large were +electrified by the astounding intelligence that Mr. Harris, from Flat +Rock, had been summoned to Thornton Hall to unite in marriage its +beautiful mistress, Miss Jerusha Thornton, to Doctor Jude Rush! + +Dr. Jude Rush had the year previously emigrated to Mecklenburg county +from the State of Maine. There was about him nothing so extraordinary as +to require particular description. He was an ordinary country doctor, +about thirty in years, had sandy hair, was sandy complexioned, and wore +sandy clothes. This is not much to our taste, but then we did not marry +him. We will assert, however, that had we been Madam Jerusha Thornton +Rush, our first business would have been to engage him a black suit at +the tailor's; but not a bottle of hair dye. We believe in adhering to +nature, though insisting that nature can be much assisted, particularly +in the matter of dress. + +Duncan Lisle had naught for which to reproach himself. He had never made +love to Miss Thornton, or given her reason for believing himself +otherwise than indifferent. It had, however, been to him a source of +uneasiness, this very knowledge of her unmistakable partiality for him. +Of this he was quite relieved at news of her marriage, which news he +received, with a bountiful supply of bridal cake, as soon as possible +after the ceremony. He chewed his cake and sweet fancies of Ellice +together. A week later, Mrs. Rush threw _his_ wedding cake to the dogs, +her own _bitter_ fancies being sufficient for her to consume. + +Faithful memory is on a race to-night, and she hurries Duncan Lisle from +the beautiful picture of Ellice, his bride, over ground of a year or +two, to that other picture, no less dear, that of Ellice, the mother of +his child. The rose has paled a little in her cheek, but the love-light +is in her eye; and can he ever, ever forget how, though he never called +himself a Christian, his heart almost burst with thanksgiving to God +when he clasped in his arms his world, his all--wife and child! + +Three years from the other wedding, and another takes place at Kennons. +Philip St. Leger has finished his course at Princeton, and come to take +away his long-promised bride. The first wedding had been altogether +joyous; this second was saddened and sorrowful. Della had become the +wife of a missionary, and was to go at once to New York, taking ship +thence to Turkey. + +The cruel separation had come then at length to the tried and true +friends; it might, nay, probably would, be forever in this world. + +In the light of memory, Duncan beholds his sister for the last time. +She is very dear to him, one only more dear. He turns to comfort Ellice; +but Ellice, brave, heroic, crushes down her grief to comfort him. + +With Della gone, the wife appears alone in the succeeding years. Alone, +but ever bright and shining, whether amid her ebony domestics, or +enthroned as wife and mother. Patient, cheerful, wise, and kind. + +O, Ellice Lisle! model of all womanly virtues! Shall a Cady Stanton +preach to such as thou? How wide with wonder and dismay would open those +frank blue eyes at windy declamations about woman's rights, woman's +freedom, and man's tyranny. + +Woman voluntarily assumes the _chains_ of matrimony. Be they of iron or +of silk, the good wife discovereth not; for it is only in an unholy +struggle that they bind and fetter. + +Memory was hurrying Duncan Lisle apace to-night; scenes in the last few +years shifted with surprising rapidity; everywhere Ellice was the +centre-piece, her fair, pleasant face beaming from its framework of +brown curls, that were almost ever in perpetual motion from the frequent +toss of the busy little head. + +But memory, though faithful, was pitiful, and kept presenting, one after +another, undarkened pictures, full of glow and sunshine; she had not +come down to the last three days of suspense and pain, of agony and +desolation. Ere that cruel curtain of gloom should shut from the +dreamer's eye his pleasant fancies, and with them the dying flames, the +loud barking of dogs, soon succeeded by hurried steps and voices, +aroused the half-conscious master of Kennons to the stern reality of the +present moment. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +PHILIP ST. LEGER. + + +Duncan Lisle, at once thoroughly aroused, laid his sleeping child upon +the lounge, and then hastily opening the door, which led upon the +veranda, encountered the bronzed face and flashing eyes of his +brother-inlaw, Philip St. Leger. Now this gentleman from Turkey was not +a ghost, nor had he rained down. A staunch ship had brought him from +Constantinople to New York; a week he had spent with his friends at +Troy; the lightning express, then so-called, from the latter city to +Richmond; thence a stage had set him down at Flat-Rock; here, public +conveyance went no farther. The best and only means of transportation +was on horseback. The roads were in too wretched a condition for the +"Bald Eagle's" one rickety carriage to attempt to plough through. + +The returned missionary, almost distracted with care and fatigue, made a +virtue of necessity. With black Sam as guide, he set off amid the rain +and darkness for Kennons. + +"It were better," he said, mentally, "that I should myself remain until +the morning; but having come so far, so near, I should be on thorns; I +must go." + +Philip St. Leger was not a Virginian by birth. He was a native of the +city at whose distinguished school Della Lisle had graduated. Only on +the day of graduation and at the time of her marriage had the brother +and husband of Della met. + +It was a sad meeting now, on this dreary night. These men, still in the +flush of manhood, clasped hands, and looked into each others' eyes, with +a despairing, inquiring eagerness. + +Their chill fingers were scarce unlocked when Duncan asked: + +"And did you come alone?" + +"I brought her child; but Della-- I left her sleeping beneath the +shadow of the minarets." + +Duncan stamped his foot. His cup of sorrow had been full. He had quaffed +with what patience possible its bitter draughts, and still were they +poured in afresh. + +"I wrote you particulars of her death a year ago: I learned at Flat-Rock +that you never have received the mournful tidings. I learned also"--but +his voice trembled, and he could not go on. + +"Of the sudden death of my wife. Good God! it may as well be spoken. +Yes, she was to-day buried out of my sight." + +"O, my friend, speak not with such wildness." + +"But all is gone--all but dreary, wretched, useless life. O, what a +world!" + +"See here, my good brother," said the missionary, in a more cheerful +tone, "I have come a long journey; I am tired to death, wet through, +hungry, and cold." + +Before he had finished, Duncan's hand had rang the bell violently. His +right-hand man, Grandison, appeared. In a brief space of time, the fire +was replenished, dry clothes produced, a small table of refreshments +spread in the same cheery room, and the missionary, with commendable +zeal, proceeded to refresh the inner man. + +Duncan paced the floor in a desperate manner. The missionary paused +amidst his slices of cold chicken and ham, and thus addressed him: + +"My friend, I am greatly distressed for you, but that helps you nothing. +I have been through the same fiery trial; and I not only believed, but +wished I might not survive the ordeal. I would not eat nor sleep, but +grieved incessantly. It was so sudden, so unforeseen. Was it not +singular that Della and Ellice, loving each other so well, should have +gone so near each other and in the same way? That is hardest of all; +martyrs were they in a true sense. But I had a friend, who aroused, +warned, and induced me to eat, sleep, and go on with the duties of life. +After one first great effort it is easier. If one must suffer, he may +assuage his pain by bearing it bravely. The over-tending of a wound may +produce worst consequences. Exposure to the air, frequent ablutions, +occasional frictions, create healing processes, reduce sensitiveness, +and restore somewhat of the old life and vigor. I dare say you have not +eaten a mouthful to-day; come eat, drink with me. I will not preach you +a sermon, but let us philosophize like sensible men." + +Thus solicited, Duncan drew up his chair opposite his friend. With +evident disgust he swallowed the first mouthful, but this morsel seemed +to awaken appetite, and he made a respectable meal. + +Having thus broken his involuntary fast, he felt, in a sense, refreshed, +and producing some fine cigars, the friends sat down before the fire, +where, looking through the blue wreaths, they seemed to gain a soothing +and an inspiration. The missionary gave to his host a brief history of +his life with Della, of her sickness and death, and then incidentally +gave a sketch here and there of his own youth. We will commence where he +left off, giving but the substance in brief, instead of his own words, +so often interspersed with irrelevant allusions and interrupted by +remark and question. + +Philip St. Leger was the son of a sea captain. His youth, of course, he +spent mostly at school, its monotony varied more than once by a +prolonged voyage with his father at sea. His mother was a woman of +society, and left her children much to the care of servants. +Consequently, she had much trouble with them in after years. Philip was +the oldest child. He was naturally good-dispositioned and tractable; +but, owing to a false system of training, became headstrong and +altogether beyond maternal control. + +At the age of nineteen, after a wild and fruitless career at college, +and after repeated suspensions, he was really expelled near the +beginning of the senior year. To his parents this was a severe +mortification, and his father, being at that moment at home, sent him to +some distant cousins, who lived among the white hills of New Hampshire. + +Colonel Selby, in whose family Philip found himself domiciled, was a +fine specimen of the country gentleman. Genial, hospitable, full of wit +and anecdote, he was also a member of the Baptist Church, an ex-Senator +of the United States, and ex-Governor of his own State. His eldest son +was married, his youngest still in college, and his only daughter, about +the age of twenty-two, was still an almost idolized child beneath her +father's roof. The mother of these children had died a few years +previously, and a widow from the city had supplied her place in the +father's home and heart. + +Philip St. Leger, black-haired, black-eyed, melancholy and romantic in +look, cityfied and aristocratic in air and manner, attracted much +attention among the simple people of the quiet town of Newberg. He could +not help perceiving that, for the first time in his life, he had become +a veritable lion. The very fact that he was Col. Selby's guest and +relative gave to him importance; another fact, that he was the son of a +wealthy sea captain from a distant city, was all-powerful. + +It had indeed crept out somehow that he had been wild and extravagant, +that he had been sent to rusticate among rocks and hills so sterile +there would be little chance for his wild acts to take root; but then, +to some old ladies and young ones too, this rumor lent but additional +interest. + +"Poor boy! what else could one expect? With such comeliness of person, +endless wealth, unlimited advantages--the only wonder was he was not +completely ruined." And he was compassionated and pitied for being +obliged to remain in so old-fashioned and out-of-the-way country town as +insignificant Newberg. + +This pity was quite thrown away. Philip St. Leger was in his element; he +had never been so happy in his life; Newberg was made up of hills, in +the midst of grander mountains; it nestled in the western shadow of +Keansarge; and King's Hill and Sunapee reared loftily around her their +bold bleak fronts. A beautiful lake of the same name lay blue and clear +at Sunapee's foot. "Pleasant Lake" lay in another direction, famous for +its delicious trout and fragrant pond lilies. + +Philip, the young scapegrace from city and from college, was in an +ecstacy; he had never beheld skies so blue, lakes so fair, landscapes so +lovely; with every breath he seemed to draw in life, vigor, and a new +sense of beauty. Every morning he was up at sunrise, scouring the +country upon the back of Nellie, a graceful, fleet young mare which Col. +Selby had generously set aside for his use. Maids, matrons, and small +boys stood in gaping amaze, stool in one hand and milk pail in the +other, watching half-fearfully, half-admiringly, the fearless young +equestrian, who shot by like a comet, his long, black hair streaming in +the wind. + +It was Philip's delight to create this stare and wonder, to which poor +Nellie was obliged to contribute still more than her young master's +pleasure. If he could leap over some low garden wall, dart over a famous +strawberry bed, or amidst the melon patch, he thought he had done +something splendid. The owner's dismay, not alone at the ruin, but at +the untamed spirit that dared it, gave him peculiar delight. + +Those old ladies who found their fattest goose dangling half-dead from +the apple-bough in the early morning, or who looked in vain for patient +cows within the yard, whose bars had mysteriously disappeared, began +less to admire this youthful metropolitan. + +Complaints poured in upon Col. Selby. At first he laughed and made light +of them; then he consulted his wife. She was a staid, proper person, +careful of the family's good name and popularity. It would never do. +Philip ought to have some sense of what was due to his host; since he +had not, he must be put in mind of it. She would undertake the task +herself. + +This she did, but without effect. Philip had promised sorrow and +amendment with a long face, but inwardly he laughed, and after, became +seven times worse than before. + +Complaints multiplied. Not only were geese and cows interfered with, but +dogs and horses were found tied to saplings or shut up in most +unimaginable places. Burdocks and thistles appeared in meeting-house +pews, where they surely had never before been known spontaneously to +spring; teachers in the Sunday school were shocked to learn that they +had distributed dime novels with books and tracts. The minister, one +morning in the pulpit, solemnly opened his Bible, and unexpectedly +beholding a most ludicrous picture, laughed outright, to the great +scandal of every looker-on. + +Now this was too much. Mrs. Selby had passed by stories of green-apple +showers falling upon homeward-bound school children's heads; she had +even smilingly held her peace when laughingly assured that a troop of +dogs and cats had gone madly wailing and howling through the streets, a +miniature world flaming with fire attached by means of wires to each +caudal appendage--even that was too much decidedly. But this tampering +with the meeting-house! Mrs. Selby consulted first her husband, as in +duty bound; that is, she called him aside, told him the latest pranks of +their protege, and emphatically added that there should be an end of +them. + +"But wife, I cannot turn the boy out of my house." + +"You need not, my dear; that is my privilege, particularly since he is +_my_ relative, not yours. Forbearance now would cease to be a virtue; +there is a limit to human endurance; there shall at once be an end to +this boy's mad pranks. He is on the piazza, perhaps studying some new +mischief; send him in to me, please." + +"But are you not too hasty, wife?" urged the soft-hearted ex-Governor, +who remembered his own follies and frolics of long ago. + +"Too hasty, when we have all borne so much? Gov. Selby"--with a +smile--"allow your wife to command you; send that naughty boy hither." + +An hour later, Philip having sought her in house and garden, stood in +presence of Mary Selby, at last discovered in her attic studio. + +"Your mother has banished me; she has already spoken the fatal words; I +must leave Newberg, this garden spot of God's glorious earth--most of +all, I must leave you, cousin Mary, and I shall be lost, forever lost," +exclaimed this strange youth, in tones melodramatic. + +Mary laid aside her palette and brushes. + +"Why then, cousin Phil, haven't you done better, after so many repeated +warnings?" + +"It is easy for _you_ to ask that question, and you can answer it better +than can I. Why do you not ask the wind why and whence it blows? Why do +the waters overflow their banks, why ocean waves engulf life-freighted +ships?" + +"No, Philip, there is no analogy. Be reasonable; you are a being of +will; you can do or not do. He is only a child who exercises no +self-control, who is governed only by caprice, whim, or whatever passion +of the moment. These follies, of which my mother makes account, and +rightly, are beneath one of your age. There is in them nothing +ennobling, charming; nothing that should gratify a mind that has the +faintest conception of the good, the beautiful, and the true." + +"I suppose so, cousin. But I have so long indulged in this fun-loving +propensity"-- + +"That it has grown into an inveterate habit. Is this, then, a part of +your better nature? Is there no depth beneath this evanescent +surface--froth and foam? I believe there is. But in order that it may be +discovered to the light and made fit for cultivation, this trivial +surface-crust must be turned under, kept down, lest light and heat +nourish its weeds into luxuriance." + +"Why have you not talked to me thus before? _You_ could do anything with +me, cousin Mary." + +"I will tell you the truth, Philip, because I think I owe it you. I went +not with you to ride or walk, I have kept myself aloof from you, because +my parents thought you too wild for my association." + +"I am not a bear, and I might be better than I seem," said the proud +boy, humbly. + +"Yes, Philip, I believe you. And I have often thought I might do you +good. Had you been my brother I should not have hesitated; but I had a +suspicion that you might regard any persuasions or lectures from me as a +piece of self-righteousness, for which you might have, as do I, supreme +contempt." + +"O, no, cousin. You are the best woman in the world. I would do anything +for you." + +"Leave off all of those mischievous pranks which are the cause of your +present disgrace?" + +"Yes, even that--and more. But it is too late now. I go to-morrow." + +The result of this and still further conversation to the same effect +produced a conviction upon the mind of Mary that the spoiled child was +not beyond hope of redemption. She laid the case before her parents, +and, with the aid of her father, obtained a reluctant consent from her +mother that one more trial might be given the recreant Philip. + +Even without this Mary would have gained her point, for on the next +morning Philip, burning with fever, was unable to leave his bed. + +A severe attack of typhoid ensued. + +When Philip St. Leger, after a dangerous illness of many weeks, became +convalescent, he was a changed person. Not alone through the influence +of Mary, but Colonel Selby, and especially his wife, were brought to +realize how prone they had been to reproach and condemn without having +made the slightest efforts to reform. A neglected, untutored, +un-Christianized young man had been placed in their care--was it too +late to redeem the past? No effort was left untried, though exercised +with the greatest delicacy to bring the young heathen's mind to a proper +state of its former unhealthfulness, of its present pressing needs. + +Mary read to him biographies of the good and great. She read ennobling +works of poetry and counsel. She brought before his mind by example how +superior was earnestness to trivialty, strict integrity to knavery and +falsehood, goodness and piety to wickedness and infidelity. As she read +and commented, her voice became to Philip as the voice of an angel. Her +work was indeed accomplished when, after having listened to her +rendering of St. Paul's grand epistles, there sprang up in his heart, +first: "Almost thou persuadest me to be a Christian;" then this full, +heart-swelling sympathy with the Apostle's words: + +"For I am persuaded that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor +principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor +height, nor depth, nor any creature, shall be able to separate us from +the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord." + + + + +CHAPTER V. + +THE MISSIONARY'S RETROSPECT. + + +Though Philip St. Leger would have done, in almost all things, as Mary +Selby directed, upon one certain point he was inflexible. This was upon +the subject of immersion; he would not go down into the waters of Lake +Sunapee, following the custom of the Newbergians. + +During his boyhood his mother had been a member of the Presbyterian +society; latterly, for some good reason or other, she had made a move +into the Episcopal; whether through whim for popularity, or for +conscience' sake was best known to herself. Her puritanical cousin, Mrs. +Col. Selby, and a very worthy woman she was, regarded Mrs. St. Leger as +a heretic, and looked upon the troubles with her children as a just +punishment for having left the Church of her fathers. She had herself, +however, meantime made very considerable concessions to her own +religious convictions. For, while stoutly believing in sprinkling, in +infant baptism, in open communion, and in each and every tenet of +Presbyterianism, she had actually been received into the Calvinistic +Baptist Church! What an unheard-of thing! It created no little talk +among the good people of Newberg, and more for this reason: Mrs. Job +Manning, a farmer's wife, who dutifully assisted her husband in earning +a frugal living on the rocky sides of King's Hill, having been a +Congregationalist, had been refused years previously, admittance to this +same Church. She was poor, had a family of young children, had no way of +traveling thirty miles to her own nearest meeting-house, and had humbly +begged, with her husband, who was already a good Baptist, to be received +into the Church. Failing this, since she could not consent to immersion, +and shrank from the doctrine of close communion, she, or rather her +husband, demanded that she might be allowed to partake occasionally of +the Lord's Supper. + +Rev. Mr. Savage, and the dignified Deacon Gould, and his equally +dignified colleague, Deacon Drake, gazed very solemnly down upon the +communion table, pursing up their mouths most decidedly, as if a +sacrilege had already been committed by so astounding a proposition. Of +course the duty fell upon Mr. Savage, the minister, to declare before +all present that the demand of brother Manning, in behalf of his wife, +was unreasonable, incomprehensible, and un-Christian. + +Was Mrs. Manning a Christian? Then let her be baptized in a Christian +manner, and thereby show herself worthy to eat the bread and drink the +wine. Until such time there could be no admittance. + +The two solemn-looking deacons on either side of the dogmatic speaker +raised approvingly their eyes, and after balancing themselves a moment +upon their toes, settled back upon their heels as grave and decorous as +before. + +Brother Job Manning arose hastily, and said: + +"My wife, Nancy Manning, is as good a Christian woman as the town of +Newberg holds. I eat with her at home, thank God, and if she ain't good +enough to eat with me at the table of the Lord, then I ain't good enough +neither, and you can have it all to yourselves." + +And Job Manning, somewhat angry, it must be confessed, strode out from +the assembled body of Christians, up to his pew in the side aisle, and +plucking his wife by the sleeve, who arose and followed him, marched out +of the Baptist church for good and all. + +But in the case of Mrs. Colonel Selby it was altogether different. She +was a woman of wealth and influence. She could do so very much for the +Baptist church, it would never do to offend her. And the Colonel was so +devoted to her, he might go off in a huff as poor Job Manning had done, +and stand it out to the bitter end. It was a dilemma, no disputing about +that. A bad precedent, more particularly after the precedent in the +Manning case. But it _must_ be got along with, and it _was_, and Mrs. +Colonel Selby, a strict and ultra Presbyterian, always open and +outspoken, became an honored member of this closely-guarded Baptist +fold. What was to hinder? Who was to say, why do you so? No bishop with +his interdict, no Pope with his "thunders from the Vatican." Here was +one of the beauties of the Protestant system. + +"System," says Webster, "is an assemblage of things adjusted into a +regular whole, or a whole plan or scheme consisting of many parts +connected in such a manner as to create a chain of mutual dependencies." +It is not at all strange that Protestantism should protest against this +definition, and should establish its own instead: An assemblage of +things so adjusted and built up as that they may easily be rearranged or +completely demolished as occasion may require, or a whole plan or scheme +consisting of many parts so connected as to create a gossamer-thread of +mutual independencies. + +Mrs. Selby was too shrewd and sensible not to see the inconsistency +involved. But then she was quite used to inconsistencies. Moreover, she +deemed herself quite in the right, and the Baptist Church had mounted +upon the plane it behooved itself to stand; at all events, it must +answer for its own right and wrong doing, as Mrs. Selby expected to +answer for her own. + +Mary Selby sought not to influence Philip in the matter of his baptism. +She saw where his inclination tended and was silent. He accompanied his +mother's cousin to her native city, and was there received into the +First Presbyterian by Mrs. Selby's venerable and beloved friend, Rev. +Mr. Storrs. + +Colonel Selby used his influence in infringing upon the college rules of +Dartmouth, and the young man, expelled from one college, was received +into another. So bad use had he made of his former advantages that he +was obliged to go back to the sophomore year; even here he had to study +early and late to maintain his position. + +After three years of assiduous diligence, he graduated with honor, when, +for the first time since the day of his disgrace, he visited his +paternal home. + +His fashionable mother viewed her handsome, scholarly son, not only +with amazement, but with pride and satisfaction. His three sisters, all +grown into womanhood, the youngest being sixteen, were at first rather +shy of him. They had not forgotten how he used to annoy and vex them. +They early perceived the change, and became distressingly fond of him. +It would be so nice to have an elder brother to go with them everywhere. +And such a brother! so fine-looking, who had an air so distinguished, a +face so poetical and classical! O, wouldn't all the other girls envy +them this splendid brother? They would make a grand party, and exhibit +him at once. + +What was their dismay on finding that he absolutely refused to show +himself to the guests! The wealthiest, most learned, most _elite_ of the +city were all in the drawing-rooms, beauty and fashion were in full glow +and flow, music all atremble to stir into life, bright eyes were +flashing expectation, and dainty lips had sweet words waiting to say, +and he would not appear! In vain the mother coaxed, flattered, and got +angry; in vain the sisters pleaded, begged, cried, and insisted. He was +inexorable. But they had made the party on purpose for him! + +Why had they not informed him sooner? He could have saved them all the +trouble and disappointment. He could have told them he was no lion, and +would not be paraded. He had not been in society for three years; he was +never again going into society. + +This, then, came of going off into the country! Buried alive. Come out +so peerless and beautiful, and all to no purpose! He might just as well +have been a grub! + +By great efforts the mother and daughters choked down their wrath and +mortification, bathed their swollen eyes, put on fresh lily white and +carmine, and joined their guests. What should they have for an excuse? +O, a sick headache--sudden and distressful--he was subject to them; poor +Philip! + +Later in the evening, Estelle St. Leger led Della Lisle up to her own +room. They were passing through the hall. Opposite her door, Estelle +stooped to lace her slipper, for which purpose she had left the +drawing-room. + +"So he has no headache," said Della, "and absents himself only from +aversion to society?" + +"That is all," replied Estelle, pettishly. "Isn't he stupid?" + +"No, I just begin to think right well of him. I have no respect for some +of those effeminate butterflies down stairs, who say only silly +nothings, because, forsooth, they think we can appreciate nothing +better, or because they have nothing better to offer." + +"But I thought you were quite captivated with Edward Damon? You two, for +the last half hour, have seemed to be unconscious that there was aught +else in the world save that one corner that held you." + +"Edward Damon is an exception. He is intelligent, unaffected, and +agreeable. He is not all simper and softness. He can talk with one +without being lost in his own self-conceit, fancying you deep in +admiration of his own charming self. Yes, I really like Edward Damon." + +The shoe was laced, and the girls passed on, but the voice of Della +Lisle seemed still to linger upon the ears of Philip. His own door +opened upon the hall very near to the waiting girls; he had heard every +word. First, the voice of Della was pleasant and gentle; it powerfully +attracted him; second, her words were not those of an ordinary city +lady. + +"A sensible girl, that--Della, Estelle called her; a pretty name. And +Edward Damon is there, it seems, the best fellow I ever knew. Who knows? +Maybe a shoe-string influences my fate. At all events, I am influenced +in a way I may not resist." + +And Philip St. Leger, with extraordinary inconsistency, soon appeared +among his mother's guests. There was but one drawback to the joy and +gratification of that mother and the three sisters--his necktie was not +of the very latest style. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +MISSIONARY LIFE. + + +In falling in love with Della Lisle at first sight, Philip pleased +himself only and his sister Estelle; that is, if we leave Della out. His +mother had the tall, graceful daughter of a millionaire selected for +him; Leonora, the elder sister, had her pet friend Miss De Rosier, +secretly engaged and under promise; Juliet, the younger, wished him +never to fall in love, never to marry, but to remain forever her dear, +only, adorable brother Philip, for whom she would give up all the world +and live a maiden to the end of her life. + +This engagement with Della, however, was not the worst that might be. +They discovered this to their discomfiture when shortly after he +announced to them one morning at the breakfast-table that on the +following week he should leave for Princeton. + +A theological course at Princeton! A true-blue Presbyterian, a +long-faced, puritanical minister, who would deem it a sin to laugh, +speak, or wink on a Sunday. And this was what their brother was coming +to. This was why it had been impossible to get him to go with them to +St. Mark's Church, though they had told him how beautifully _High_ +Church it was; how it had a high altar and candles, almost like the +Romanists, only that it was not at all Romish, but entirely and truly +Catholic! Was ever such like woful perversity? When they had just got a +brother to be proud of, who could take them to theatres, concerts, +balls, operas, and everywhere, for him to go and degenerate into an old +solemn Presbyterian minister! It would be bearable, if he must be a +minister, if he would only be a High Churchman, and would be called a +priest, and wear the surplice, and read the service in his charming +voice, and be rector of such a fine, rich church as our own St. Mark's! +They could put up with that, because he could still go with them to +places of amusement, and would not be likely to scold them for dancing +all night and sleeping all day. Besides, his praise would be in +everybody's mouth, he would speedily get a D. D. to his name, the ladies +would all admire him, and he would still be their own, own brother. They +wished he had never seen Newberg, nor Colonel Selby's family, nor +Dartmouth College. They forgot or were ungrateful for his transformation +from a state of good-for-nothingism to comparative Christian virtue. + +Philip perceived and was pained at the folly and frivolousness of his +mother's household, but any attempt at change more favorable appeared to +him so herculean, that he made scarcely an effort in its behalf. He was +conscious that therein lay neglect of duty; they might owe to him what +he owed to Mary Selby. Often when he thought of her he bowed his head +reverently, and said: I have two saviours--an earthly and a +heavenly--Mary Selby and my Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ. + +To the near relatives of Philip his going to Princeton was so much like +burying him, that when, after three years, he returned finally to his +home and announced that in one month he was both to marry and sail as +missionary to Turkey they were scarcely surprised. They made no outcries +and no ado; they had given him up long ago; he would be no company for +them in their rounds of gaiety and fashion; he might as well be teaching +heathens or Musselmen in the kingdoms of the Brother to the Sun as a +dry, dull parson in America, ever in danger of offending their +aristocratic tone and ideas by his sober, old-fashioned notions. + +After his marriage, before embarking for Turkey, Philip, with his bride, +paid a visit to Newberg. His second sermon he preached in the Baptist +church. To those simple-minded country people, he stood before them a +living illustration of what the grace of God might effect. Six years +previously he had startled and amazed them, as though he had ridden +through the air on a broomstick; now he came back to them in peace and +gentleness. Before he had laid sacrilegious hands upon the Holy Bible in +the sacred pulpit; now he opened the same reverently and read from +thence the words of eternal life. The change was indeed marvellous, and +Newberg proudly set him down as a second Paul the Apostle. + +Della was dreadfully seasick on the ocean voyage, and, as she often +declared, it seemed she never became completely well again. Owing to +this delicate state of her health, the St. Legers did not accompany +their companions to the field assigned them, a small town in the +interior, but remained in Constantinople, at the house of Dr. Adams, +resident Protestant minister of that city. + +It was not until after the birth and death of her first child, when her +health became somewhat reinstated, that Della was able to accompany her +husband to their contemplated mission. Here they rejoined their +companions of a year ago; Mr. and Mrs. Fisher, and Mr. and Mrs. Dodd. It +had been a former mission until recently abandoned; the houses, small +and inconvenient at best, had either been appropriated or fallen to +decay. + +A few rooms had been made habitable, and here the missionaries had taken +up their abode. Cheerless it seemed and disheartening to Philip and +Della, as they saw no progress at all made in the objects of their long +journey, but every effort consumed in struggles for daily bread. + +"What have you been doing?" asked the St. Legers, so wonderingly as to +convey almost a reproach. + +"The same as yourselves," retorted the Fishers and the Dodds, "nursing +our healths to make us well." + +"We will all begin together then," said Philip pacifyingly. + +"As soon as you please; you shall lead and we will follow," answered the +associates. + +Notwithstanding this ebullition of energy at the outset, month after +month, nay, year after year elapsed without the least material progress. +What was termed a school would be sometimes kept up for weeks together, +at which some few children could be coaxed to come; but after the +supply of pictures, ornaments, etc., with which they had been attracted +gave out, the attendance languished and the idle urchins sought +amusement elsewhere. + +Bibles were flung out with a lavish hand to men, women, and children who +had never before possessed such a treasure as a book; and this book +might for them just as well have been a bundle of old almanacs, for all +printed language was Greek to them. And they, these missionaries, did +not believe that the mere possession of the holy word of God could +impart or draw down God's grace upon the possessor; for that would be +akin to the miraculous, and they eschewed faith in miracles. + +An attempt was made at expounding and hearing the word of God on +Sundays. There was good enough will in these expositions, but the ears +and the hearts for receiving were far away. People, it is true, would +come some days in crowds, but it was not for instructions; they went as +young America goes to see a band of turbaned Turks, or Barnum's latest +humbug. + +Where was the use of spending so many persons' energies upon such a +stolid, indifferent, intractable people? They were wedded to their +idols, why not leave them alone? Why should they cast pearls before +swine? + +These were questions the missionaries asked themselves; and answered +too, if not to their satisfaction, to the best of their ability. Their +time became more and more consumed in the care of their increasing +families. + +These missionaries in their home-reports might well speak of hardships. +The women were often sick, help could but rarely be obtained, and then +of the poorest quality; thus these gentlemanly graduates of Yale, +Dartmouth, and Princeton had often not only to cook meals for the +family, but to wash, iron, attend the sick wife and helpless infants, +and suffer all the anxieties and annoyances that human flesh is heir to. +What wonder that they came gradually to lose sight of the grand +aspirations that had animated their early manhood? To forget, as it +were, the objects and aims of their holy mission, and to sink into the +mere _paterfamilias_, like other good masters of families? There seemed +no alternative; the routine of domestic duties must be accomplished; the +sick must be attended to; hungry mouths must be fed, fast-coming forms +must be clothed. Where was the time to go forth seeking the heathen or +compelling him to come in? The wife and children could neither be taken +nor left alone. In fact, the missionaries found to their great surprise, +as all experienced men have found, that the care of a family is a +never-ceasing, all-engrossing responsibility. The outside work could be +very small indeed; all had to centre in that one spot, home. They +cultivated small gardens, and in this way eked out their subsistence on +the small salaries received from the Board of Missions. + +Thus lived they from year to year, hopeless of the present, but +overflowing with hopes for the future. Though they could labor not _now_ +in Christ's vineyard, they might do so by and by; though they might live +to behold no fruit of their labors, they might, unknown even to +themselves, have sown the good seed, and their children's children, and +the children of heathendom might arise up and call them blessed. + +Della Lisle's life--or rather Della St. Leger's--in the land of her +adoption, lasted but five years; she had buried two little children, +who, so brief was their existence, could scarcely be said to have lived +at all. As her third trial was approaching and her health in wretched +state it was deemed best that she should be taken by easy stages to +Constantinople, where English medical advice could be procured. The +journey proved invigorating, and Della landed at Dr. Adams' in almost as +good health as when she had left, more than four years previously. + +There was always good company at the house of Dr. Adams. English and +American travelers, whether religious or not, were wont to claim his +hospitality. + +Upon the arrival of the St. Legers, a very interesting gentleman was +spending a few days; he bore the common name of Chase, but he was no +common man. Though still in the prime of life, he had traveled the world +over, made himself conversant with all languages, manners, and customs, +studied into all fanaticisms and all religions, and if he had ended in +having faith in none, as such people often do, he admirably kept his own +counsel. + +After coffee, the Doctor with his guests withdrew to the open court; +distributing a Turkish pipe to each, he sat himself down upon his +cushion, prepared to listen to this traveled friend with his usual +animation. + +Dr. Adams' house being head-quarters for missionaries coming and going, +and Philip St. Leger being at this time the third who had arrived +within a day or two, the others being still present, the conversation +naturally turned upon missionary life. + +Now, Mr. Chase was a Yankee; and though a cultivated one, he had not +parted with an innate inquisitiveness, and had an off-hand way of asking +such questions as first presented. He catechised these three +missionaries as faithfully, even in presence of Dr. Adams, as if he had +been President of the American Board. He desired to know the number of +years spent in the work, the size and extent of their missions, the +number of actual converts, and also all about their own families and +modes of living. + +Having apparently satisfied himself, Mr. Chase said, wheeling around to +the Doctor: + +"The same story. In my various travels I have come frequently across +these missionary stations; you will pardon me if I tell you what you +cannot fail to know, that they are complete failures. In my opinion, the +money might be better expended in planting gunpowder." + +The three youthful missionaries opened wide their eyes, but the Doctor +smoked away complacently. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +THE DISTINGUISHED TRAVELER'S VIEWS. + + +Mr. Chase dropped his pipe, as if in a great hurry, and continued: + +"Now, here are three missionaries, and they will excuse me, as I am +about to present to them a great truth--each of whom has left at his +respective station from two to four colleagues. There are then from ten +to fifteen men, with as many women and more children; the difficulty is +with these women and children; they are very dear, precious objects, I +have no doubt, in their own homes and in Christian lands, but they are +only clogs and drawbacks in such an enterprise as these young men are +engaged. A man alone can dive into forests, scale mountains, swim +rivers, fight lions, eat raw birds, make his bed in caves, or on solid +rock, lie down with the Indian, rise up with the Hindostan, do any and +every conceivable wild outlandish thing that the world's nations do; but +with a woman--pshaw, that alters the case." + +"But there are instances of brave women," remarked the Doctor, "Look at +Lady Hester Stanhope, and Lady ----" + +"But they were unmarried women. There are the Amazons of old too, and +Amazons are not wanting at the present time--but such do not come within +my category. From the very nature of the case, a man with a wife is +fettered; he cannot be absent from home twenty-four consecutive hours. +She is afraid of the dark, afraid of dogs and lions, of robbers and +murderers, afraid the children will get sick, or that 'something or +other will be sure to happen, as always does if he is away.' He too is +as uneasy as herself, meditates all sorts of mishaps, imagines the house +on fire, Johnny in the well, Fanny with a bean in her throat or a corn +in her ear, and is on thorns and briers until his own house circles him +around again. This is all right and natural for the ordinary domestic +man; but, as I understand it, the missionary undertakes God's work; he +renounces the world, its joys, comforts, friendships; he is no longer +his own; but his will, love, obedience, and work is all for God, his +Master, and for the heathen who know Him not. The truth is, the man who +considers himself called to missionary labors should leave his wife +behind him; that is, he should have no wife." + +The Doctor, who was now a man of sixty, had been thrice married, and was +now entertaining thoughts of a fourth wife, took his pipe from his lips +and said emphatically: + +"You are an extremist, Mr. Chase, you speak thus perhaps because it has +been your lot to lead a single life; but, let me tell you, I think our +missionaries sacrifice enough, without being obliged to come wifeless +among negroes, Hindoos, South-sea islanders, and Cannibals. A dreary +life at best--unendurable without companionship. You wouldn't get a man +to sail under the conditions you propose." + +"Did the Apostles have wives and children pulling after them?" continued +Mr. Chase. "Imprisoned, stoned, beaten, and scoffed, was their life less +dreary than should be the missionary's of to-day? What says St. +Paul--'thrice was I stoned, thrice was I beaten with rods, thrice I +suffered shipwreck, a night and a day have I been in the deep.' Do you +suppose it ever occurred to that mighty, God-like spirit, even in the +lowest depth of his worldly misery, that it would be a comfort to have a +wife come to weep with him, to hand him fresh gown and sandals? Never so +far fell that grand soul from its exalted repose upon the bosom of the +infinite! From that source whence he drew courage sublimer, faith +diviner, and strength irresistible, which no woman's heart or hand could +aid in evoking! Ah, that was a glorious St. Paul." + +"You are eloquent, sir, as all of us might well be over such a subject," +said the Doctor; "but you must remember that only one St. Paul has ever +lived." + +"Though he has been a model for many. I don't know--only _one_ St. Paul? +I think if we look back into history--say, take the Fathers of the +Desert--there was St. Jerome, a grand old man, St. Augustine, with less +of fire, but of lofty faith, St. Ephrem, there, in him you have a St. +Paul in eloquence; you will remember that his words were wont to flow so +rapidly that his frequent exclamation was--'O Lord, stay the tide of Thy +grace.' Why, the number is countless whose labors, toils, and +self-denials were gigantic. St. Benedict, St. Wilfred, St. Bernard stand +out--" + +The Doctor having thrown down his pipe and commenced walking the floor, +here interrupted his enthusiastic guest: + +"O, if you go to taking up the Roman Catholic calendar of Saints, you +will find plenty of fish in illimitable waters; but that is out of our +line of coasting, you must know; and we are not in the habit of +associating St. Paul with any of these latter-day Saints." + +"Please allow me, Dr. Adams, you know I am a privileged person. My +last-named Saint, Bernard, lived at least four hundred years before +Luther and John Knox, and Wilfred and Benedict much nearer to Christ +than to us, the latter having been separated in time but four centuries +from his Lord; but let us not contend upon this point; I cheerfully +admit my own superior admiration for the converted persecutor of the +Christians." + +"If his like has not been seen through eighteen hundred years, we may +not look for it in the nineteenth century," remarked the Doctor. + +"I still insist, however," said the indomitable Mr Chase, "that he has +had many imitators; and that brings us back to the subject whence we +have strayed, and upon which I have not said all that I had intended. I +was going to remark, after asserting that missionaries should leave +their wives at home, that the success of Catholic missionaries +illustrates the truth of this." + +"I beg you to remember," interposed the Doctor, testily, "that we do not +wish to be compared in any way, shape, or manner with the Catholic +missionaries. You might just as well compare us to the heathen who +worship idols." + +Mr. Chase continued, a little more mildly than before: + +"The question is not, my dear Doctor, a comparison between your religion +and theirs. I understand very little indeed about their religion. But +their object and yours is the same; by every means in your power to +induce souls ignorant of the Saviour to believe and accept the truths +you hold out; this is your mission, and this is theirs. You come with +your families, you make a home--you stay there--waiting for the heathen +to come to you; your wife is nervous, she likes not the uncouth looks +and ways of your barbarians; she is neat and she does not like her white +floor to be soiled by the dirty feet of your savages. Nervous, neat, and +timid herself, she meets their gaze anything but smilingly--even savages +are human, and know well enough how to take a hint. Her involuntary +dislike is returned with interest, and her husband's influence and +usefulness is at an end, even before being established." + +"You judge us harshly," complained Dr. Adams, glancing at the +dissatisfied countenances of his younger friends, "some missionaries +have most excellent wives." + +"Do not understand me as saying one word against any missionary's wife; +far be it from me. As a class, I have no doubt they are most estimable. +But women are women all the world over, and experience convinces me that +in the place they occupy as wives of missionaries they are only greatly +in the way. Now the Roman Catholics--and I am no friend to their +religion, as you very well know--as missionaries, are those only who +have met with success. _They_ attribute it to the grace of God following +their efforts, in accordance with the divine promise, 'Go teach all +nations, and lo, I am with you to the end of the world.' I have visited +their missions in every part of the world; in North and South America, +in Africa, Europe, Asia, and many islands of the sea--and in fact this +really did confound me, though I have been almost everywhere under the +sun, these missionaries were already there, working away as for dear +life--well, as I was saying, I have been in many a place where, to get +the least comfort at all, I was compelled to put up with them; and, I +always went away soothed, refreshed, and consoled. I assure you it is +wonderful; they go among the natives, and to a certain extent become one +of them; they win their confidence, treat them kindly, share with them +food and drink, sleep in their houses and tents, and by and by +insensibly have become their masters. Then how easy to teach them +anything! Now they couldn't do this with troops of women and children +along; so I came to the conclusion that their remarkable success in the +conversion of heathen nations was to be attributed to the absence of +these hindering appendages." + +"But you must have found nuns as missionaries in some places." + +"You know they are invisible to us profane people. They do have charge +of schools in some missions--but then, cannot you perceive that a dozen +of nuns, independent and self-supporting, is a very different +institution from a dozen of married women and half a dozen dozen small +responsibilities?" + +The Doctor laughed good-humoredly. + +"You stick to your point like the bark to a tree," he said. "What do you +say, young gentlemen," addressing his silent, but ill-pleased guests, +"are you convinced that you have made a blunder, and are you ready to +set about retrieving it?" + +St. Leger answered, with a voice that slightly trembled with +indignation: + +"I am convinced, Dr. Adams, that the learned gentleman who is so +conversant with the subject of missions, should seek and find his true +and proper position in the bosom of those successful idolaters he so +greatly admires." + +"Why, you take it to heart," said the Doctor. "Had you known Mr. Chase +as long and well as I have, you would make a different estimate of his +remarks;" and he turned the subject, for, in truth, he was not at all +pleased with these plainly spoken views, deeming them entirely uncalled +for and inapropos. He hastened to call out the distinguished traveler +upon a less distasteful theme. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +THE VISITATION--BY SPIRIT AND BY DEATH. + + +When Philip retired to his room that night he was surprised to find his +wife still awake. "What a wonderful man that is who has been +entertaining you this evening," she said. + +"Wonderful fool!" ejaculated the pious missionary, whose disturbed +temper had not yet become altogether serene. + +Della was quite thrown back by so unwonted an exclamation, and remained +silent. At length Philip said: + +"What do you know about him? where have you seen him? haven't you spent +the whole evening in this room?" + +"Yes, but the windows open upon the court; I have heard every word." + +"And heard no good of yourself, either," remarked Philip, snappishly. + +Her husband was in so unusual a mood that Della hesitated about entering +upon the conversation she had intended. She was impulsive, however, and +did not like to wait. + +"Philip, I want to say something," said she, gently. + +"Well, say away," was his ungracious permission. + +"I thought you had something to say," he said again, more gently, as +Della remained silent. + +"It was only this: I had been thinking the same thing," she said, almost +in a whisper. + +Now Philip knew very well what his wife meant. _He_, too, had thought +the same thing. But he pretended to be in the dark, and abruptly +demanded: + +"The same _what_ thing? Why must you speak so enigmatically?" + +"O, Philip, you could have done so much more and better without me. I +have done nothing, and have hindered you." + +"And what are you going to do about it?" said Philip, coldly. + +"Why, Philip, what _is_ the matter with you? How strangely you answer +me!" cried Della, excitedly. + +"Never mind me now, Della I am not myself to-night; go to sleep." + +Truly, thought Della, he is not himself; so she prudently resolved to +defer her "something to say" to a more favorable season. + +For the next eight or nine hours Philip's mind was in a whirlpool. While +a student at Princeton, the lectures of Cardinal Wiseman had chanced to +fall in his way. He read them with avidity, particularly those "On the +Practical Success of the Protestant Rule of Faith in Converting Heathen +Nations," and "On the Practical Success of the Catholic Rule of Faith in +Converting Heathen Nations." They left upon his mind unpleasant +impressions, and created doubts and misgivings which his tutors could +with difficulty dispel. But he shut his eyes, blinded his mind, and +allowed the hour of his visitation to pass by. Now, the words of this +Mr. Chase, a stray traveler, roaming through the world without aim or +object, so far as known, had aroused this slumbering phantom of the +past, and provoked, if not challenged, him anew. He recalled the story +of Catholic missions that had read to him like a continuation of +Apostolic labors; statistics, gathered altogether from Protestant +sources, showed them to be overwhelmingly successful; the gift of +miracles and the gifts of the Holy Ghost had descended upon them, and +crowns of martyrdom numerous and shining. He had even thought with a +thrill that had he never met Della it would be glorious to join this +lion-hearted band, whose symbol was the ever-upborne Cross! But there +had avalanched down upon this temporary glow such a storm of ridicule +against Transubstantiation, worship of the Blessed Virgin and of dead +men's bones and cast-off garments, and the putrified corruptions of the +Man of Sin generally, that the one generous, struggling spark was +extinguished. Of the great Protestant Foreign Missionary Society, for +which so much money had been expended, so many millions of Bibles +distributed, so many glowing reports printed, Philip St. Leger was now a +part, knew all its ins and outs--alas! its outs. + +This was the reason Mr. Chase's remarks had so fretted him: because of +the truth which he was unwilling to receive. To himself this young +missionary had admitted long before that a married man was too much +cumbered for his undertaking. At the same time he mentally insisted +that in that foreign land life without his wife would be to him +intolerable. It was truly distressing and discouraging that five years +had passed by with but the most trifling results. He thought, and not +for the first time, that were he settled in the faraway, quiet village +of Newberg, his life might not pass away so unprofitably. But he had put +his hand to the plough; should he now turn back? + +The dissatisfied missionary passed a sleepless night; he murmured and +repined; he was not willing to ascribe praise to his Roman Catholic +brethren, nor to admit their right to claim the promise of our Lord to +be with them unto the end. The result was that he resisted the spirit, +and allowed this second visitation to pass by, leaving him more +self-determined than before. Therefore, with the dawn of day, he +resolutely dismissed the subject, with emphasis asserting: "I am a +Protestant; I will live and work with my Protestant brethren. We must +admit nothing on the part of our adversaries; we must make our claims as +bold as theirs." + +When, therefore, a few days after, Della renewed the subject, he was +prepared to quiet her scruples. + +"And is their success, then, so really wonderful as this gentleman +declares?" she inquired. + +"Not at all. Doubtless in many places they do gain a temporary success, +but this is easily accounted for. The Catholic religion lies in outward +observances. They have so much show and ceremony that the ignorant +native is necessarily attracted. The dress, altar, lights, bell, all +have their part in alluring the curious. They think there must be some +great mystery connected with so much paraphernalia. They are naturally +willing to be let into the secret. But there is nothing in it at all to +convert the heart or convince the understanding. When these useless +accessories are removed, the converted heathen, as he is called, +relapses into barbarism." + +"It has seemed to me, though, Philip, that if we had only something in +our service to attract the attention, we would have a great advantage; +that is the first and principal thing to get people together. By having +something to win their curiosity, a great point is gained. Giving them a +Bible is like giving them a stone for bread--they can make nothing out +of it," said Della, decidedly. + +"But when they have the teachings of the Bible once thoroughly impressed +upon their minds, does it not stand to reason they would be better and +more persevering Christians?" asked Philip. + +"Very likely. But the difficulty is to make this impression. We tell the +heathen, man, woman, or child, that Christ died on the Cross to redeem +us. Would he not lend us more earnest attention if we illustrated our +instruction by exhibiting to him an image of the Cross and the +Crucified--in short, if we taught him, as did the ancients, the whole +story of Redemption, and the establishment of the Church, by series of +pictures and images?" + +"What is the use of going back thousands of years ago when we are living +in the nineteenth century? Why not make use of the art of printing since +we have it?" + +"Certainly, wherein it is of advantage. But the majority of those whom +the missionary seeks to instruct are beyond the reach of that admirable +art. Letters have for them no meaning; books are for them only to look +at; and with a picture the eye is instructed and more pleased." + +"Let us send to Rome for a cart-load of Madonnas, crucifixes, beads, and +all the et ceteras for satisfying and perpetuating superstition and +ignorance," said Philip, sarcastically. + +Della was sensitive to ridicule and remained silent. Her husband +continued: + +"Or, since you deem yourself a supernumerary in your present vocation, +suppose you allow me to pack you off in the return-cart to the Eternal +City, that is said to sit over the mouth of Il Inferno. You may kiss the +toe of his Holiness, and humbly ask penance for the rest of your mortal +life for having presumed to be a Protestant missionary's wife, and +carried the Bible to the dying heathen." + +"The subject is too serious for any such nonsense," remarked the wife, +gravely. "The question is _how_ to convert the heathen. It seems to me +the true missionary of the Cross should not be above receiving prudent +suggestions from whatever source; more particularly ourselves, who are +inexperienced in the work." + +"You are right, Della, as you always are," replied the husband, more +sincerely. "I have been revolving the subject over, and have come to a +firm resolution to turn over a new leaf on our return to the mission. If +Mrs. Fisher were not so peevish and Mrs. Dodd so distressingly +particular, we could get along better in the kitchen; the native girls +would do better, and improve. If you were to oversee that department, I +think there would be a change greatly for the better. The truth is, I +believe those women are afraid of being poisoned. They ought to give +their time in the school. If they tried to make it interesting there +would be a better attendance. It is all nonsense to spend one's whole +time in getting up dainty dishes, and _recherche_ toilets for one's +babies. At all events we must arouse ourselves from this slough of +indifference and give our best energies to the work. We have not made +half a trial yet. How can we expect success to follow aught but +energetic effort?" + +Distance lent enchantment. Now that the missionaries were hundreds of +miles away, the labors of the mission seemed easy of accomplishment, and +the daily, hourly difficulties and hindrances dwindled into +insignificance. + +Scarcely a month later and Philip St. Leger bent in thankfulness over a +little daughter, which the doctor said might live. + +"We will call her Della," said Philip to his wife. + +"Not Della, but Althea. I give her to God, Philip. May she do for Him +what I have not been able." + +Philip had turned to his wife that he might the better catch her feeble +whispers. O, the dread that rushed through his heart! A ghastly pallor +was spread over the face, a convulsive spasm distorted for a moment the +sweet mouth. + +"I am going--O, Philip," she said, wildly, and ere he had time to call +on God for mercy she was gone. + +"Good God, doctor, is she really dead?" cried Philip, as soon as he +could speak to the physician upon the opposite side, whose fingers now +let fall the pulseless wrist. + +"All is over," answered the physician, sadly. + +"Why did you not call me sooner if you saw the danger? How dared you not +inform me at once?" demanded Philip. + +"Pray be quiet, my dear sir. It was very sudden--entirely +unanticipated--although I had been suspecting disease of the heart. Her +lungs were a good deal affected, but her heart I think the immediate +cause of her death. Otherwise, she was doing nicely, bravely, better +than could be expected. You have met with a great loss, sir--a wonderful +loss--your wife was a noble woman. God help you!" + +Della St. Leger was buried by the side of the first and third Mrs. +Adams, the second having been buried on an island in the sea. The latter +had been a Southern lady, and had brought with her a colored woman, at +that time her slave. This person, Minerva by name, remained still an +invaluable member of Dr. Adams' household. To her care the little +motherless Althea was entrusted; and Philip St. Leger, with what heart +may be imagined, went back alone to his dreary mission. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +THE NEW CHOICE. + + +We have given a more thorough retrospect of the missionary's antecedents +than did he to his friend on that memorable night at Kennons. But the +gleam of his flashing eye, and the glow of the sparkling flame into +which he gazed was like flint to flint; and to us was it given +mysteriously to read the fiery flashes thus revealed. + +From the death of Della, he went on to inform his brother-in-law that he +had brought back his child in care of the faithful Minerva, whom he had +left with his younger sister for the present. He did _not_ tell him that +the real object of his present visit to America was to take to himself a +wife for the second time. This, however, he might, have told, had he not +found his friend in such affliction, as that any news of this kind must +have grated upon him harshly. + +Indeed, several months previously he had written to the principal of the +Seminary for her to select a suitable young lady for his future wife. +This was not the first time her offices had been solicited in this line; +but she was an elderly lady, sensible and practical, and naturally +thought that a missionary's second wife should be distinguished for +something more than youth and beauty. + +Accordingly, when, upon Philip's arrival in his native city, he had +visited his friends, and disposed of his daughter, he called upon Madame +X--, she presented to him her choice for Mrs. St. Leger, in the person +of Miss Arethusa Toothaker, the eldest, tallest, most sedate young lady +of her establishment. + +Miss Toothaker was of an uncertain age, though she called herself +twenty-seven--was tall, as we have said, and slender, had a long, narrow +head, which she carried on a neck too long, had very red cheeks, small +snapping black eyes, very thin hair, of which she wore in front two very +meagre curls done in cork-screw style, held her broad shoulders high, as +if vainly striving to get them far as possible from her long, ant-like +waist--well, this is enough, for at the very first glance Philip St. +Leger turned away his eyes and closed his heart. + +Upon taking his leave Philip informed Madame that Miss Toothaker would +not do. + +Madame was surprised; "She would make a worthy companion," insisted the +principal, "and the dream of her life has been to become the wife of a +missionary." + +The missionary smiled--he would not disturb her dreams for the +world--but "would Madame X--allow him to be present at the morning +exercises of the school some day?" + +"Certainly, any morning you please--to-morrow, if agreeable, you can +open school with prayer and address some useful remarks to the young +ladies." + +On the following morning was great commotion in the ranks of the young +ladies. The handsome, distinguished foreign missionary was to open +school. At the "let us pray," a hundred young heads rested upon the +upraised right hand; but it is to be feared that authorized devotional +attitude was sadly infringed upon, for, when he pronounced "Amen" sooner +than was anticipated, he encountered so many bright admiring eyes that a +less self-possessed person than Philip might have been abashed. As our +hero had studied his speech, however, he was able to commence and go +through without the slightest embarrassment. His keen eye swept the +array of youth and beauty before him, and so quick was he in arriving at +conclusions, his choice was made before his remarks were ended. + +A person of less penetration might have chosen many another than Emily +Dean. There were several among her compeers of more beauty and +brilliance. But Philip St. Leger was a good judge of character; he had +but to look upon a face to read the heart. He had loved Della Lisle from +hearing her voice, and from one glance at her countenance. Emily Dean +wore her hair, like hers also in color and abundance, as had Della. In +this only was resemblance, unless in a certain pensiveness of expression +and pose of attitude. + +Madame X--was again surprised, when, in the afternoon of the same day, +the missionary asked for an interview with "the young lady who had +occupied the fifth seat on the right hand side of the third row, who +wore her hair somewhat like a crown, and was dressed in pale blue." + +"Ah! Emily Dean--a very fine girl--but is she not too young--hardly +nineteen?" + +"I myself am not a Methuselah," remarked the missionary, somewhat +piqued that although but thirty-one, he should be esteemed too +unsuitably old for even the youngest of Madame X----'s pupils. + +"Of course--O certainly--of course--I beg your pardon," said the lady +hastily, "but a missionary's wife, you know--there is much to be +considered." + +Philip, evidently bent upon doing his own considering, pursued his +inquiries, and gained the interview. He proposed to the young lady in +presence of the principal, and in so very business-like a way as +convinced both the elder and the younger that there was more +practicability beneath that poetical exterior, than the latter would +have suggested or warranted them in believing. + +Philip was not long in discovering Emily Dean to be the eldest child of +an independent farmer in Western New York. She had four sisters and +three brothers younger than herself. "With such a family, the father can +more easily part with this daughter," thought Philip; and he started off +on the next train to visit the family of the Deans. + +Emily he found to be a favorite in the household. His proposition to +take her with him "away to the barbarous Turk" was received with +consternation and tears. The more, that it was felt, from the first, +that if she wished it they should have to give her up. + +The enthusiastic suitor proposed the father should at once go for his +daughter and conduct her home. To all objections and demurrers as to +haste and postponement Philip had a ready and eloquent answer. There was +no gain-saying this ardent pleader. + +The farmer left his host of potato-gatherers and apple-pickers and went +off on the express. In twenty-four hours he returned with his daughter. +Philip would have given no time for preparations--but in this he was +forced to yield. + +The parents insisted their eldest daughter should have a wedding +_trousseau_--it was not meet she should set out on so long a voyage, +across the ocean of water, and the ocean of married life, in the +condition of Miss Flora McFlimsey. So Philip St. Leger took this +interval of time for his flying trip to his brother-in-law in Virginia. + +But he found, as we have seen, the gloom of death spread over Kennons. +Had he needed aught to convince him anew of the evanescent nature of all +beneath the sun, he found it here. It was indeed painful to contrast the +joy and happiness of this Southern home of little more than six years +ago, and the present desolation. In that joy he had shared--in this +gloom was his own heart wrung. In the moment of mournful silence that +followed his long; discourse and Duncan's, life seemed to him not worth +the living, and rising from his chair he said, with marked emphasis: + +"Duncan, my friend, we are but travelers of a day. Our life, like that +fire, goes out in ashes. The night comes, and we sleep. _Do_ we rise +again? Does this corruption put on incorruption--this mortal put on +immortality? O, could I hear a voice from Heaven say unto me '_Yes_,' I +should be comforted!" + +"Why, Philip! Have you, too, doubts? God Almighty help us, when the +faith of His ministers falters!" + +"Bear with me now, Duncan; the darkness in my soul is deep and terrible +to-night; death and the grave seem the only sure certainties we have in +this world. Morning may bring me right again, if another morning remain +for me. Let us sleep--and good night!" + +The friends separated--and Duncan pondered on the missionary's last +words. They seemed prophetic; and he almost expected, when he sent +Grandison to his room on the following morning, to see that servant +return with direful news. Not so. Philip appeared about ten o'clock, +declaring he had slept well, and felt much refreshed. He remained for +several days at Kennons, during which time the grave of Ellice was +opened, and a tiny coffin let down upon her own; mother and child were +re-united; and as Philip offered a prayer over the fresh-thrown earth, a +ray of stronger faith enkindled his heart. Philip talked of his own +little girl to Duncan Lisle: + +"I had intended leaving her with my sister Estelle, who was my favorite. +She was much attached to Della," said Philip; "But I found Estelle's +husband does not like children; besides, she has three of her own, the +eldest but a baby, and twins younger. Leonora is well married, but +devoted to society, has no children of her own, and no idea of being +troubled with other people's. I could not leave her with my mother, even +though she had not been an invalid. My only resource was to entrust her +with Juliet, who was but recently married, and who, with her husband, +received the child delightedly. I do not feel at all satisfied with the +arrangement, but it was the best I could do. Juliet is good-hearted, +over-affectionate, and will be kind to the child; but she is rather +simple-minded, frivolous, and variable. Her husband is a kind, sensible +man, but he was raised a Roman Catholic. Juliet tells me that he is not +much of anything now; but I doubt it, for he insisted on being married +by the priest, before the ceremony at St. Mark's; and then again, the +idea of one who has been raised a Catholic ever being anything else +_but_ a Catholic. It is preposterous. I have charged Juliet to see that +no influence is ever brought to bear upon the mind of my child as she +advances in years--but I have still grave fears. Possibly the time may +come when you can remove her to Kennons, say, for a year or so, at a +time; it would be a source of pleasure to me to have Althea beneath the +roof under which her excellent mother was reared." + +Duncan but too gladly promised to keep an oversight of the child; he +would occasionally visit her during her infancy, and his home should +ever be open to her; had Ellice lived she should have known no other. + +The friends, newly attached, took sad leave of each other. Duncan leaned +upon the gate, and watched the other as he rode slowly through the lane. +Had the feet of the horse been mounting stairs that led upward to the +skies, Duncan would not have felt more sure that Philip was passing +forever from his view. + +"Traveling, he one way, I another, yet both to the same goal--eternity," +mused Duncan. + +As he spoke, a carriage came in view, hiding the retreating traveler. He +discerned at a glance that the carriage, drawn by fiery, coal-black +steeds, was that of Mrs. Rush, He remained by the gate until the driver +drew rein, and the bright, glowing face of the lady put itself out of +the window. + +"So, Mr. Lisle, your friend has already gone. I had no idea he was going +so soon. I am so sorry. I was going to have had you over to dinner +to-day. As it is, you can come, Mr. Lisle,--you and Hubert." + +Duncan Lisle pleaded indisposition, and politely declined. + +"But what are you going to do? House yourself up and mope yourself to +death?" persevered the handsome widow. "I know how it is, and that you +must feel a disinclination to society; but one must make an effort, you +know. Come, I will take you right over in my carriage; there is plenty +of room. Come, Hubert, come, jump in;" and the little boy, very willing, +sprang up to the side of the carriage. His father went to assist him. + +"Hubert may go, but, really, I cannot, Mrs. Rush. You must excuse me. +Another time, perhaps." + +"But I don't excuse you, Mr. Lisle. I am so disappointed You know what a +splendid cook my Dinah is, and I ordered her to do her best. But then I +suppose if you won't, you won't, and there's an end of it; is that so?" + +"That is so, Madam," and touching his hat gracefully, he bade her an +inaudible "good-morning," and turned away. + +Mrs. Rush ordered Washington, her coachman, to drive home. She was +disappointed and chagrined, but not discouraged. She was vain as a +peacock or Queen Elizabeth. Like another _Dorcasina_, she fancied every +man to be her _inamorata_. She had never abandoned the idea that Duncan +Lisle had been once in love with her. She had been encouraged in this +delusion by the duplicity of her servants, who, to propitiate her favor, +had been in the habit of repeating false expressions of his admiration +and regard. + +"If all reports are true, he thinks more of you this day than he does of +Miss Ellice," said one. + +"Everybody knows that Duncan Lisle worships the ground you tread on, and +always did. Miss Ellice happened to come along and just inveigled him, +that is all; he is sorry enough, you may 'pend," falsified another. + +"He always _was_ talking about how mighty han'some you was, and what +beautiful eyes you had," declared a third, and so it went, and credulous +Mrs. Rush laid the flattering unction to her soul that she was the one +woman in the world for Duncan Lisle. + +"It is only for looks' sake; he wanted to come bad enough, you may bet +on that," said Dinah to her mistress, when informed that she had got up +her great dinner for nobody but little Master Hubert. + +As to Hubert, after he was through with his good dinner, he had anything +but a pleasant visit. Thornton Rush--his name was Jude Thornton +Rush--was a few months older than Hubert, He possessed the beauty of his +mother, with the dark, hidden nature of his father. He was stubborn, +morose, and quarrelsome. He abounded in bad qualities, but if there was +one which excelled another, it was cunning and duplicity. These were so +combined as really to form but one. Had he been a man and termed +_Jesuitical_, in the Protestant sense, that term would have aptly +described him. Now Hubert was not perfect more than other children, but, +compared to Thornton Rush, he was a little saint. His organ of +combativeness frequently waged stern conflicts with his bump of +reverence. His sense of right was keen as his sensitiveness against +wrong and falsehood. He was, like his mother, frank and open as the day, +generous, disinterested, and unselfish. + +What should happen, then, when these two natures came together? What but +thunder and lightning, as when two clouds meet? + +Duncan Lisle thought about this as he saw his boy borne away from him, +and he resolved to go over for him very soon after dinner. He arrived +just in time to rescue him, bruised and bleeding, from the fists and +fury of Thornton Rush. The quarrel had commenced in this way: Thornton +had asserted that everything at Thornton Hall was his; Hubert had +nothing. Hubert admitted as much, insisting, however, that all at +Kennons was his. + +"No such thing," denied Thornton. "Everything at Kennons is your +father's; you have nothing." + +"Well," said the other, "so everything at Thornton Hall is your +mother's, and not yours." + +"No such thing. I am the master of Thornton Hall. My father is dead, +sir." + +"Yes, I know that." + +"You know that! And is that all you can say? Say that I am master of +Thornton Hall, and that you are nobody but Hubert Lisle," said +Thornton, intent upon a quarrel. + +"I shall say no such thing." + +"But you will, sir, and I can make you. I am stronger than you are, and +I have bigger fists. Look here, aren't you afraid?" shaking his clenched +fist in the other's face. + +"No, I am _not_ afraid," spoke Hubert boldly, striving to grapple with +his stronger foe. + +So engaged were the boys, they heard not the approach of Mr. Lisle, +till, having dismounted from his horse, he seized Thornton by the collar +and flung him afar, as he would have done a wild cat. + +Mrs. Rush, who had seen the whole from the window, and enjoyed it +immensely, now thought it worth while to come upon the scene. + +"What does all this mean?" as if just surprised. "Thornton Rush, you +will be punished for this. Have you no better manners than to treat your +young visitor in that way? Really, Mr. Lisle, I am truly distressed, and +offer you a thousand apologies. Please do not take Hubert home in that +condition; bring him to the kitchen and let Dinah bathe his face and +hands. How unfortunate this should have occurred!" + +Mr. Lisle complied, and waited until his boy was brought to him in a +more presentable condition; then he went away, very wroth indeed in +heart, but outwardly calm and composed. + + + + +CHAPTER X. + +"A DREAM WHICH WAS NOT ALL A DREAM." + + +As the missionary journeyed northward, his mind emerged from the gloom +of the last few days. It naturally turned upon the young girl who was so +soon to become his bride, and in this connection life began again to +assume its rose-tints of old, and he was led to wonder how it was he had +so given way to grief and sadness. In recalling the trials and +disadvantages to which his young bride would be exposed at the mission, +a bright thought occurred to him. An American housekeeper would be +invaluable, and Miss Toothaker arose before him. She would no doubt +prove an excellent manager, and she was so unprepossessing in every way, +she would be unlikely to be appropriated by any widowed missionary. It +has been seen already that for Philip St. Leger to think and to act were +but quick, consecutive steps; it was so in this case. Upon his return to +Troy he called upon Madame X---- and explained his wishes. Miss +Toothaker was consulted, and accepted his proposition at once; she would +be on missionary ground at all events. True, she was conditionally +engaged to marry a Mr. Freeman Clarke, who was an itinerant preacher. +She had insisted that he should become a missionary. He had consented to +go as missionary to the Western frontiers. This did not meet Miss +Toothaker's views; foreign missionary or nothing. Mr. Clarke's +conscience did not send him to any Booriooboolah Gha, he said. + +The engagement had been for some time in this state of contention, when +the proposal of going to Turkey as "assistant" put an end to it. + +Miss Arethusa retired to her room triumphantly, and exultingly wrote to +her lover the facts in the case--except that she left him to infer that +she was going to Turkey, as she had always wished, a missionary's wife. + +Now that Mr. Freeman Clarke's "blessing had taken its flight," it all at +once assumed that brightness of which the poet speaks. He would have +argued and urged, even consented to have gone to the ends of the earth, +but he saw from his lady's letter it was too late. He solaced himself +somewhat by replying to her dolorously, hoping that she might perceive +his heart was broken and be sorry. He closed loftily by saying: "You +advise me, my dear Arethusa--allow me to call you thus for the last +time--to find a heart worthier and better. It was unkind in you to urge +upon me an impossibility. None but Napoleon ever scorned the word +impossible." + +Whether Mr. Freeman Clarke derived his inspiration for the itineracy +from his lady-love is not for us to decide; this much is certain: from +the day the "Atlantic" sailed for the Old World with Miss Toothaker on +board his zeal flagged, and soon gave out altogether. His love for +souls settled down upon one Annette Jones, the plain daughter of a plain +farmer, whom he married, and lived happily enough with upon a small, +rocky farm in the State of Vermont. In times of "revival," he became an +"exhorter," and very fervent in prayer. Upon one occasion he soared to +such a pitch as to cry out frantically: "O Lord, come down upon us now, +come down now through the roof, _and I will pay for the shingles_."[A] + +There were two or three people present who thought such an address to +the Supreme Being blasphemous and frightful, but the rest of the crowd +cried, "Amen." + +In due time our missionaries found themselves at the house of Dr. Adams. +The doctor was rejoiced to have back Minerva again, for he declared +nothing had gone on rightly since her departure. + +Although Philip was well pleased with his second wife, he forgot not his +first. On the evening of his arrival he went out to visit her grave. As +he stood there mournful and silent, a light step approached, and Emily's +hand clasped his own. + +"Is it _her_ grave?" she asked softly. + +"Yes. You would not have me quite forget Della, would you?" he asked, +doubtfully. + +"O, no, but I would remember her with you. I would stand here by her +grave with you, and offer up my prayers with yours that she may look +down upon us in love and blessing. I would not seek to drive her memory +from your heart. I do not consider that I have usurped her place. I +would have a place alongside of hers--if I am worthy, Philip." She +added the last words in a whisper, and doubtingly. + +For the first time Philip perceived what a treasure he had won, and how +worthy a successor to his first love. He looked down in her tearful eyes +lovingly. + +"Della in heaven and Emily on earth--as one I love you," he said, +fervently. + +On the following day Philip took his bride out to view the wonders of +the city. They invited Miss Toothaker to accompany them, but were by no +means regretful that she declined. They little dreamed what was going on +in their absence. Suffice to say, when, after a few days of rest, they +began to make ready for departure, their "assistant" displayed not her +accustomed zeal and alacrity. This was accounted for on the last morning +of their stay. + +Without warning or preliminaries, immediately after prayers, in fact, +upon rising from his knees, Dr. Adams walked up to the blushing Miss +Toothaker, and taking her happy hand, led her to the far end of the +room, placing himself and her in position. + +"Before you leave, Mr. St. Leger, you will, if you please, do us the +favor"--(bowing low and smiling mellifluously) "you see how it is, sir, +and what we wish of you." The Doctor stammered, and was bashful, +although such a veteran in the service. + +The bride elect held her head very erect; the red spots in her cheeks +glowed like double peonies; her two thin curls, done in oil for the +occasion, hung straight and stiff like pendant icicles nigrescent; her +sparkling black eyes looked apparently into vacuity, while they were +really beholding the acme of all her hopes. She was thinking in that +supreme moment of her life how very providential it was that she had +thrown overboard Mr. Freeman Clarke. Whether he was picked up or whether +the sharks devoured him, it occurred not to her to care. That she was +about to become the fourth wife of the Rev. Dr. Adams, foreign +missionary at the Capitol city of Turkey, was sufficient glory; she +could have afforded to quench the hopes, and tread upon the hearts of a +dozen such as that itinerant preacher. She had reserved herself for a +grand calling, her life would be written in a book, and _her_ name too, +along with the Judsons, the Newells, the Deans, would inspire Sunday +school scholars with zeal for missionary life unto the end of time. + +But we are keeping them waiting. + +Philip, always master of the situation, choked down his indignation and +spoke the words, "for better--for worse." His prayer was brief and dry, +without one bit of heart or spirit, but maybe it answered the purpose. + +The Doctor, after the tying of the knot, did condescend to thank Philip +for his kindness in bringing him over a wife. Philip replied with +truthfulness that he merited no thanks. + +And after all, once started again upon their inland journey, both Philip +and his wife regretted not the absence of Arethusa. They had endured her +company for sake of the advantage she was to prove to them in the +future; they now fully realized how much she had been in their way. + +Philip's respect for the Doctor sensibly diminished. If he could endure +Miss Arethusa for the the rest of his life, his taste was abominable. +_De gustibus non disputandum est_; with this familiar reflection, Philip +turned to a subject more agreeable. + +Thus had Arethusa's life-long dream of becoming a missionary's wife +proved neither illusive nor vain; and she had dropped the Toothaker. + +[Footnote A: A fact.] + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +ALTHEA'S GUARDIANS. + + +The little Althea then, who is our heroine, when we shall come to her, +had been entrusted, somewhat unwillingly, to her aunt, Juliet St. Leger +Temple; Juliet never wrote her name only in full, as above. She was +proud of her maiden name. St. Leger was romantic, high-sounding, +aristocratic. Temple--well, Temple had been well enough in the early +days of her courtship. She thought she loved John Temple so very +profoundly that she would have married him even if he went by Smith or +Jones. She had read Charlotte Temple, and she knew people by that name +of great respectability; but since her marriage, she had discovered, on +the same street with her, a family of Temples who were snobbish and +vulgar. This put her out of conceit with her husband's name. John +Temple! so almost the same as James Temple, only a few squares below. +Who was to distinguish her, Mrs. Juliet St. Leger Temple, from the fat, +dowdyish, over-dressed, gaudy Mrs. Temple, who wore a wig, and whose +eyes squinted? Who, she questioned, when both went by the name of Mrs. +J. Temple, of M---- street? Her early married life was clouded by this +one grievance. She had still another; her husband was a Roman Catholic, +and would not go with her to St. Mark's Church. True, she had known him +to be a Catholic when she married him; but she had _not_ known or +dreamed that these Catholics were so set and obstinate in their +religion. He had been so reticent upon the subject that she had supposed +him quite indifferent. Once married, she could convert him; O, that +would be a very easy matter. He need go to St. Mark's but once to be so +delighted that he would wish to go there ever after. She had consented +to be married first by the priest in order that John Temple might see +the delightful difference between being married by Father Duffy at low +Mass in the early morning, while fashionables were still folding their +hands in slumber, and being married five hours after by the elegant Dr. +Browne, assisted by the Rev. Drs. Knickerbocker and Breck--with a +brilliant group of bridesmaids and groomsmen, and only the very _elite_ +of fashion, full-dressed and perfumed, in attendance. + +"I hope he will be captivated now; and that here will ooze out the last +gasp of his love for the religion of St. Patrick," the young bride had +said mentally. + +But neither Dr. Browne, nor his beaming assistants, nor all the splendor +of St. Mark's made upon John Temple the least apparent impression. + +The Sunday following the marriage witnessed quite a contention. + +"And you say this positively, John, that you will not go with me to St. +Mark's, and on the very first Sunday, too?" cried Juliet, incredulous. +"I have told you all along that I would not go to your church," replied +John. + +"But what possible harm could there be in your going just this once? Any +other man in the world would be proud to go with me in all my beautiful +bridal array. I assure you there is not another wardrobe in the city so +_recherche_ as mine. You yourself said you never saw such a love of a +hat, and my point-lace might be the pride of a princess. But, John, if +you would only go, I would be more proud of you than even anything and +all of my elegant dress. Now, John, dear, please say yes," and she laid +her hand on his arm, and looked up, as she vainly hoped, irresistibly in +his face. + +But John shook off her hand impatiently, not deigning even to respond to +her look. + +"Silence gives consent, and you will go," she said. + +"Have I not told you once, twice, and thrice that I cannot go with you?" + +"O, John, but I did not think you in such terrible earnest, and you are +not, I am sure. I thought you loved me so well you would do anything to +please me. Come now, just this once, this first Sunday after our +marriage. Think how it will look, and what will people say to see me +walk into church all alone--and our pew is far up in front?" + +"Is it for the looks of the thing and for what people will say that you +go to church?" asked the husband, gravely. + +"No, of course not; but then we must have some regard for the speech of +people, and how it will look for you to go off to one church and your +wife to another." + +"Would you care to go with me, Juliet?" + +"With you? To St. Patrick's? With all the Bridgets and Pats and Mikes of +the city? Do you think I could stoop so low? O, John Temple, you insult +me!" and the young wife burst into indignant tears. + +John hurried to her with his handkerchief to wipe her eyes. She thrust +it away, declaring there was something about a gentleman's handkerchief +that made it abominable. + +"Well, don't cry, dear," urged John, soothingly. + +"It's all the comfort left me," sobbed Juliet. + +"I simply followed your example," continued the husband. "You invited me +to your church, and I invited you to mine, that, as you said, we might +go together. I had no idea of urging you to go if it would be +disagreeable to you." + +"There's a vast difference. If you go to St. Mark's you are among +elegant people. Every one's dress is in the height of fashion. You see +nothing low or vulgar. There is nothing to offend the senses. The very +thought of my going to St. Patrick's!" and the lady cast up her eyes as +if she were about to faint or to implore Heaven to save her from such a +horror. + +"But you associate in society with the McCaffreys, the Dempseys, and the +Blakes, and many others of the congregation of St. Patrick." + +"O, well, they probably started up from nothing, and are used to it; +they don't know any difference. But for me--a St. Leger! O, John, if +you love me, don't ever mention such a thing again; and if you love me, +John, a half or quarter as I love you, you will go with me to St. +Mark's. I will not go without you, and I shall cry myself into a +dreadful headache, and you can refuse me and see me suffer so when we've +been married but five days! O dear, dear, I thought I was going to marry +a man who would love me so well he would do everything in the world to +please me, and now here it is!" and Juliet fairly shook with sobs. + +John Temple was a very matter-of-fact man; quite the reverse of his wife +in every respect. The wonder is how such opposites became attracted. He +understood very little of women's ways, and became fearful that his +young bride was on the borders of distraction. He felt himself justified +in remaining absent from Mass, and as he persevered in his resolution of +not accompanying Juliet to St. Mark's, both remained at home, where more +of clouds than sunshine reigned. + +More than once during this scene John Temple was on the point of +yielding. Where was the harm after all? and it would be a pleasure to +gratify Juliet. But he remembered the promise he had made to himself and +his God, that, in marrying a Protestant wife, he would still keep aloof +from the Protestant Church. This promise kept him true. If once would +have answered, he might have gone once; but after that the battle would +have to be fought over again; the victory might be made complete in the +beginning. + +The next day, while Mr. Temple was at his place of business, Juliet, +feeling herself very much injured, visited her rector, Dr. Browne. She +told him the whole story in her tragic way, including the insulting +proposal for her to go to St. Patrick's. She wished Dr. Browne would +contrive some way by which her her husband might be brought to terms. + +Dr. Browne smiled. + +"You will remember, Mrs. Temple," he said, "that your friends all warned +you in this matter of your marriage. It is so impossible for a Catholic +to become anything else, that it has become an adage, 'Once a Catholic, +always a Catholic.' Do not expect your husband to change; the leopard +might as well be expected to change his spots. Ephraim is joined to his +idols; let him alone. Let him go to his church, and you to yours. It is +not pleasant, but must be accepted as one of the conditions of your +marriage. Neither let it create trouble between you. Avoid religious +subjects. But as he will undoubtedly cling to his Church, so must you to +yours. Do not be prevailed upon to go with him; remain upon that point +firm as himself." + +Thereafter Juliet concluded she had better make the best of it, and +by-and-bye it had ceased to become the "skeleton in the house," as at +first. + +Had Juliet been less exacting and less demonstrative in her affection, +she would have made her husband a happier man. Coming home one day he +found her crying, as if her heart would break. To his eager inquiries as +to the cause, she replied, hysterically: + +"You don't love me, John, and I am the most unhappy woman in the +world." + +"Don't love you! What has put such a notion as that in your head?" + +"You know you don't, John; that is enough." + +"But if I tell you I do?" + +"That is just what you never do tell me; that is what makes me so +miserable." + +"Am I unkind to you? What have I done that you complain of?" + +"You don't tell me every day that you love me." + +"Bless me! You are not expecting me to repeat that over every day? Is +not once enough for all? Did I not prove it beyond all words by marrying +you?" + +"I never expected our honeymoon to wane. If you calculated to settle +down at once into sober old married people, I did not, nor will I. I +wish we had never got married, and always stayed lovers; that was ever +so much nicer. Don't you say your _Ave Maria_ every day?" + +"I do," answered John, "or rather I used to," failing to perceive what +connection this question could have with the subject. + +"Well, then, why do you do that? Why don't you say it once for all and +have done with it, as you say of your love for me? But no, all your +devotion must be given to a woman that lived thousands of years ago! You +think more of her picture than of your own wife! This is what one gets +by marrying a Catholic!" + +Juliet's temper was fast overcoming her grief. + +John Temple was agitated by a variety of emotions. He looked at his +wife, who had re-buried her face in the sofa cushions, and thus +addressed her, inaudibly: + +"You foolish, little simpleton! you ignorant little heretic!--destitute +both of religion and common sense. Good Heavens, what a wife! Jealous of +Mary, our Mother in Heaven! O, Holy Mary in Heaven, pray for her." + +The dinner-bell rang. + +"Come, Juliet," said her husband, kindly, "let us go to dinner; I am +hungry as a bear." + +"You can go; I have no appetite, I never care to eat again as long as I +live," came out dismally from the depths of the pillows. + +John ate a hearty dinner, when, failing to conciliate his wife, he went +to his office. No sooner had the hall-door closed on him than Juliet +arose out of her sackcloth and ashes, bathed her face, arranged her +hair, and proceeding to the dining-room, so far forgot her intention of +never eating again as to surprise the cook by her greediness. She then +dressed, ordered her carriage, and was driven to her mother's. + +To this mother, who was a confirmed invalid, and confined to the house, +Juliet poured out the exaggerated tale of her grievances. It was not +enough that her husband was a Catholic; he was also heartless, stoical, +unsympathizing, and unloving. + +Mrs. St. Leger listened silently to the end. At the conclusion she flew +into a rage. + +"You shall go back to him no more," she exclaimed. "You see now the +folly of your persisting in marrying him. He was beneath you in every +respect. But you shall not live with him. My daughter shall not be +treated disdainfully by John Temple, an Irishman and a Catholic. I will +send for my lawyer and have divorce papers drawn at once. Ring for +Richard." + +"But, mamma--I--I--I never thought of getting a divorce. I love my +husband. It is because I love him so well that I feel so bad if--if--" + +"Juliet, you are a goose," interrupted the irritated parent; "if you are +so fond of your husband, what are you here for with your complaints? If +you are bound to live with him, why, live with him, and hold your +tongue. When it comes that you are willing to separate and get a +divorce, then come to me, but not till then." + +Juliet returned to her home a wiser woman. The very thought of +separation from her husband was distracting. What was mother or sister +compared to him? She had really no doubt of his affection, and it +suddenly flashed upon her mind that such scenes as she had just gotten +up, if frequently repeated, might have a tendency to alienate him. She +would make it all up; she would tell him how sorry she was; she would be +so glad to see him; he _should_ love her, even though he did not tell +her so. + +John came home that night wondering if he should find his wife's face +still hidden in the cushions, her hair standing out in a thousand +dishevelled threads. It was not a pleasant picture. Yet it _was_ a +pleasant picture that met him at the door. Juliet was all smiles, blooms +and roses. There was joy in her eyes, and gladness in her tones. Never +had she looked quite so beautiful to John Temple--even when first her +beauty won him. It was such a surprise! What wonder he committed the +folly--but no matter. Juliet learned a lesson to her advantage. Tears +and upbraidings had failed to move him. A happy face, smiles, charming +toilettes, joy at his coming had brought out those expressions which +demands had failed to elicit. + +Juliet was not satisfied yet. She had to tell him how shocked she had +been at the mere thought of losing him. John opened his eyes, and felt +considerably hurt as she detailed the visit to her mother, and that +mother's proposition for a divorce. For Juliet touched very lightly upon +her own fault of having made outrageous complaints against him. +Nevertheless he felt convinced of the facts, knowing Juliet had gone +there with unkindness in her heart. By his repeated questionings she +admitted all, but he fully forgave her, considering the good results of +her thoughtless action. + +On the day following this domestic breeze and subsequent calm, Philip +St. Leger had arrived from the Orient. Two months previously they had +been apprised of his coming. A family conclave had been held, at which +it had been decided that to Juliet should Philip's child be consigned; +for reasons already explained by Philip to Duncan Lisle. + +Juliet had now been married six months. She was twenty-five years of +age; old enough to have exhibited more sense and discretion than we have +seen her to do. She was, however, one of those who will be childish as +long as they live. Her faults and delinquencies were due more to +improper training than to natural defects. With such characters is hope +of reformation. + +Juliet was delighted with the child, which was just commencing to walk, +and could say a few words. She had the dark eyes and hair, and creamy +complexion of the St. Legers. + +Juliet had been, even among girls, distinguished for her love of dolls. +To make dresses and hats for her troop of a dozen had formed one of the +chief pleasures of her childhood, continued far up into youth. + +In Althea she saw the quintessence of all dolls. For her she could +embroider, ruffle, and tuck; search the city over for the daintiest of +baby shoes and the showiest of infant hats. Althea should have a nurse, +and a carriage, and a poodle dog. Santa Claus should not only give her +his choicest gifts at Christmas but should shower down toys every day in +the year. After a little, in another year, she would take her with her +to St. Mark's, where she should attract all eyes by her dress and +beauty. + +That Althea had a soul to be trained, carefully guided and directed to +God, entered not into the calculations of this giddy, superficial +woman. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +THE CHRISTENING. + + +A year afterward came little Johnny into the house of the Temples. Words +altogether fail to do justice to the mother's pride and joy. + +Leonora, who wore proudly her husband's grand name of Van Rensaleer, +looked down on the Temples; nevertheless, as a duty, she called to +congratulate them upon the birth of a son. + +"Yes, a fine babe," she replied to the father's questioning look of +admiration. "A nice baby, I dare say," she said in answer to Juliet's +glowing extolations, finished by a "do you not think so?" "But all +babies look alike to me," she added. "I fail to see the charm, I prefer +my poodle." + +"Sour grapes," returned Juliet, her eyes flashing. + +"Sweet grapes, my dear," said her sister, softly. "Well, I wish you much +joy, and may the child prove a blessing to you." + +Then came Estelle. She was Mrs. Lang. She had married an Englishman, and +would have gotten along comfortably had she not been "worried to death" +with "those children." Hugh was now four years old, the twins two and +a-half, and Robby in his eleventh month. Four boys, and they kept the +house in commotion from one year's end to another. + +To Juliet's joyful outbursts Estelle answered: "O, it is all very well +just now; I know all about it; but wait until you have four! Why, I +cannot get from the sound of their noise; it rings in my ears now. There +isn't a moment when I am not on the keen jump, expecting some limb to be +broken, some eye to be put out, or some dreadful disease to come around. +I dread the warm season on account of its summer-complaints; and the +cold for its croups, scarlet fevers, measles, and whooping cough. I warn +you, Juliet, you are seeing your happiest days." And Estelle, with a +weary look and dreary tone, took her departure for her luxurious, but +uproarious home. + +"What are _you_ going to do with the baby?" asked Mr. Temple of the +little Althea. + +"I yock it," she answered, placing her hand upon her own small crib, +rocking it to and fro. + +The young mother, excited and nervous, would not heed the Doctor's +cautions to keep herself quiet. Like many another foolish person, she +thought she knew better than any physician could tell her. As a result +of her indiscretion, she was attacked with a long and dangerous illness, +which had nearly proved fatal. + +Upon her recovery, Johnny was three months old; and Juliet began to talk +about having him baptized. The first time she went out to drive she +purchased the finest christening robe she could find. Nothing was too +expensive for such an occasion. For herself also she obtained an +entirely new outfit. If John could only be induced to go to the +christening! Possibly he might; she would make one more effort. + +One day when he came home at noon she met him smilingly at the door. + +"John, come with me a minute," she said, and led the way up the winding +stairway, into the finest chamber. The bed and every article of +furniture was made to do duty in supporting beautiful and costly +fabrics. + +"What! another wedding to take place?" exclaimed John. + +"The christening of our only child, my dear. See, everything is ready; +just look at this elegant robe, fit for a king's son, but only worthy of +our dear boy. O John, I have only one drawback to all my happiness--if +you would only go with us to St. Mark's!" + +"Juliet, why do you wish our child to be baptized?" inquired John. + +"If you please, say _christened_. Why, is it not customary? Do not +everybody who are any thing take their children to the church? Indeed, +it is a very grand occasion; I suppose little innocent children are not +admitted at St. Patrick's?" + +"On the contrary, every Catholic child is baptized, even at the most +tender age; but, Juliet, the Catholic mother gives not all her mind to +the child's costly apparel; that is of little consequence compared to +devoting the child to God." + +"That is not the question," spoke Juliet, impatiently. "Will you, or +will you not go with us to St. Mark's?" + +"Juliet, I have something I should tell you. Our child has been +baptized. I took him myself to the house of Father Duffy several weeks +ago." + +"You did? How dared you?" cried Juliet, angrily. + +"I had the same right to take him to Father Duffy as have you to take +him to Dr. Browne. You were very ill at the time; I did not like to +wait." + +"It doesn't matter at all," cried Juliet, recovering herself, "I will +take him to St. Mark's just the same." + +"You should inform Dr. Browne, however, that the child has been already +baptized." + +"_He_ will not think he has been baptized; but I will tell him, and let +him know how unfairly you have dealt with me." + +Juliet did not know what her husband was aware of, that Dr. Browne, or +any Episcopal clergyman, would consider baptism at the hands of a +Catholic priest as true and valid. + +The Sunday appointed for the christening drew near. On the Saturday +preceding, Juliet called on Dr. Browne. Having largely expatiated upon +her happy anticipations of the morrow, she proceeded to relate to the +rector the march her husband had stolen upon her. + +"And do you not know, Mrs. Temple," said the doctor, surprised, "that, +if your child has been baptized by Father Duffy, that is sufficient? +There is no need for our ceremony to-morrow," and the rector saw in +imagination a handsome fee that failed to reach his grasp. + +"Is it possible," cried Juliet, disappointed and grieved to the heart, +"that you consider baptism in the Catholic Church of any worth +whatsoever?" + +"Most assuredly we do," answered the doctor. + +"But I thought they were idolaters and heathens. How can heathens +baptize?" + +"The Romish was the first Apostolic Church; after many years it imbibed +errors and became corrupt. The Church of which we are members, which +should really be termed Catholic and not Episcopal, came out from her, +retaining her truth, rejecting her errors and superstitions. We maintain +that the Church of Christ must be Apostolic, therefore are compelled to +admit that to have been the true Church from which we sprang. We are +really a branch of the Romish Church, unpalatable as it may be to some +of us." + +Had Juliet given attention to the rector's theology, she would have +remarked that it was giving the Romish Church too much credit. But for +her his words fell idly; she was intent on having her baby christened at +St. Mark's. + +"But, Dr. Browne, nobody knows my baby has been baptized. Cannot the +christening go on just the same?" + +"By no means," spoke the clergyman, decidedly. "It is contrary to +custom, and to the laws of the Church." + +Juliet went home sick at heart. So many preparations, and all for +nothing; so many hopes and dreams, and all blown up like bubbles. In her +grief and confusion the complicated question as to whether her child +were a Catholic or an Episcopalian did not intrude itself. + +She did stop to marvel, however, as to whether her husband had given +more than one name to the baby. She had intended his second name should +be St. Leger. But her husband was so absent-minded, she presumed to say +that he had forgotten all about it. Upon questioning him he looked up +somewhat confused. + +"I had indeed forgotten your intention. I do remember now of having +heard you speak of St. Leger; I do remember." + +"So you had him christened without a middle name, plain John Temple! I +wonder you didn't go to the length of giving him your own name in full, +John Patrick Temple!" + +"That I did do, my dear; it was my father's name, and I never thought +but what it had been all settled between us." + +This was too much for Juliet's patience, already tried. She stamped her +feet, wrung her hands, and cried aloud despairingly. + +When, at length, able to articulate, she poured upon John Temple's ears +such a shower of words as must have refreshed the very springs of his +nature. She concluded thus: + +"You are the most set, stupid, obstinate man in this world, and selfish +too. It was not enough that I should have given him your old-fashioned, +homely, plain name of John, when Alphonsus, Adolphus, or Rinaldo would +have suited me so much better, but you must put in that low, vulgar, +most hateful of all names--Patrick! A Patrick in our own house, for our +only child! By and bye, he will be going by the name of Pat. _My_ +child--the son of a St. Leger--baptized by a Catholic priest and called +Pat, just like the dozen other infant nobodies he had baptized the same +day, no doubt. Nothing to distinguish him from the vulgar herd--a paddy +among paddies! O John Temple, I wish I had never seen your face and +eyes!" + +John Temple seized hurriedly his hat, and without a word went out from +the presence of his wife. To say that he was not angry would be untrue. +Above his anger, however, swelled emotions of surprise and wonder. +Surprise and wonder that the beautiful Juliet St. Leger, during six +months of intimate courtship, so successfully could have veiled, under +constant guise of amiability, the weak, pettish nature which she was now +so often exhibiting. + +Of a truth, he had been simple enough to become attracted by her +exceeding beauty of face and figure; but these accidents would never +have held a man of his sterling sense and uprightness had he not been +led to believe it associated with a corresponding beauty of mind and +disposition. + +For a brief while this strong man yielded to an overwhelming sense of +loss and regret. The memory of his excellent mother came back, by +comparison, to increase his painful confusion. + +"My mother, my good mother," he sighed, "noblest and best of Christian +women, for me you died one year too soon. You at least would have read +aright the heart of Juliet. Sainted mother, for thy sake, for all our +sakes, I will do well by Juliet. Since it is as it is, God help me, I +will not fail." + +And Juliet, after the anger had cooled in her heart, and the flush died +out somewhat in her cheek, mused thus: + +"Was ever another such man as John Temple since the days of Job the +patient? There is no satisfaction in scolding him. Not a word will he +say, but march off dignified as any Lord Admiral. A grand way that is of +heaping coals on my head. I wish I could learn to bite my tongue, as I +know he does his. I am really afraid he will come to disrespect and +despise me. Why can not I mend my ways? But it was aggravating, wasn't +it, Johnnie," turning to his babyship, "to give mamma's darling a very, +very horrible name, and have water poured on his sweet little head by a +naughty, wicked, Irish Romish priest. Yes, that it was, Johnnie dear, +and we won't stand it, will we, Johnnie darling?" + +Johnnie signified his concurrence of sentiment by a masterly plunge of +his fat fingers into his precious mamma's curls, which entanglement +caused a rapid "change to come o'er the spirit of her dream." + +The anticipated grand Sunday was spent at home by Juliet, in her own +room. The furniture in the best chamber was still graced by her +unappropriated apparel. The christening robe, heavy with embroidery, +hung as if for a crime from its temporary gallows. Juliet stepped in, +viewing them but an instant, then withdrew, locking the door behind her. +Had she seen the seven hanging heads of Bluebeard's decapitated wives, +she would not have been more pained. She returned to her room to weep +over her poor baby, which she regarded as a martyr. Yes, ill-treated had +he been, contemptuously treated; she could have no more pride in him: +henceforth he would be to her an object of pity. + +Going and returning from Mass that morning, John Temple began to inquire +if he had not indeed rather wronged his wife, in giving that name to the +child, which he knew to be so repugnant to her taste. He would not have +liked his child to be called Luther or Calvin. He had been thoughtless +and stupid to be sure. Reaching home, he sought Juliet. He found her in +her oldest wrapper, her face red with weeping, her hair frightfully +unkempt. + +"Juliet," he began, kindly, "I would never have given Johnnie that +name--" + +"But you did give it to him," interrupted Juliet. + +"I did; but giving very little heed to the name. You were very +dangerously sick. The physician declared you could not live six hours, +unless change took place for the better. The child had been ailing. I +thought of baptism for both of you--to the child it could be given. I +ordered a carriage, put the nurse and child in and drove to Father +Duffy's. I had not thought of the name until asked by the priest. In the +confusion of the moment I gave it as I did. I should not have insisted +on the name had you been with me. It should have been anything you +wished. When he becomes old enough to be confirmed the name can be +changed." + +"His name shall never be written with a P. It shall be written J. St. +Leger Temple. I will get Dr. Browne to put it upon the Registry. Does +Father Duffy record names too?" + +Mr. Temple replying in the affirmative, the young mother became seized +with another spasm of terror. + +"Then Father Duffy believes he has got that child in the Catholic +Church, I suppose! O, what a fearful piece of work you have made of it! +No doubt, like King Solomon, he will be for dividing the child, that he +may get at least half its soul for purgatory. And if I had died, you +would have brought up dear little Johnnie a Catholic! Your great hurry +for his baptism shows it. That is the regard you would have shown for my +memory! But I am not dead yet; and while I live, the child goes with me +to St Mark's. I will still do all _I_ can to bring him up respectably." + +A day or two after appeared in the city a foreign songstress who was +setting the whole world mad. John Temple took his wife to hear her. She +threw off, as they had been a bundle of straw, all these troubles that +had so crazed her. She unlocked the best chamber, went in, and came out +looking beautiful as when a bride. Among her friends again she appeared +as if no cloud of sorrow had ever darkened her life. + +John Temple recognized his wife again. By these repeated scenes of +sunshine and storm, he learned to rejoice in the one, and to remain +undisturbed in the other; against the exuberance of one to present the +parasol of calmness, and the umbrella of patience to ward off descending +floods. + +Three years later, one winter's evening at tea, the dining-room servant +informed John, upon his inquiring for her mistress, that that lady +wished to see him in the best chamber. He had not seen her since early +in the morning. At dinner he had been told that she was lying down, and +wished not to be disturbed. Having hurried through his tea, he repaired +to the room designated. The first object that met his view was very +large Mrs. Biggs overflowing the arm-chair, with a roll of white flannel +in her lap, over which Althea and Johnny were absorbingly bending. + +"We've got a baby, papa!" "Mrs. Biggs has brought us a baby!" cried out +the children simultaneously. + +Mr. Temple evinced the greatest surprise, of course, but walked straight +up to his wife. She smiled upon him mischievously, saying: + +"You are surprised to find me here and not in our own room?" + +When the perplexed husband had nodded his head, the wife continued: + +"I wished to be up-stairs for two reasons: the second is because they +say it is a sign that the child who beholds the light for the first time +above stairs will be surely rich; and the first, because--because--O, +John, I have stolen a march on _you_ this time--I wanted Dr. Browne to +be sent for and the christening over with before you should know there +was a baby in the house. Little Flora Isabella Ernestine has been +already christened;" and the wife's eyes were full of triumph. + +"All right," replied John Temple, smiling grimly; and he was fain to +kiss his wife, and to cast a satisfied glance at the "sole daughter of +his house and heart," which was so royally blessed with abundance of +name. In his view the child was not yet baptized, and at a convenient +season he would take it to Father Duffy; but he would not trouble his +wife by disclosing this intention. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + +NEW MISTRESS AT KENNONS. + + + "When a woman will, she will, you may depend on't, + When she won't, she won't, and there's an end on't." + +Mrs. Jerusha Thornton Rush, from the time of Ellice's death, had firmly +resolved on marrying Duncan Lisle. He, on the other hand, had firmly +resolved never to allow that scheming widow to supplant his lost wife. + +Whether her will was stronger than his, or whether he changed his mind, +it matters not; at the end of three years Mrs. Rush had carried her +point and become Mrs. Lisle--one of the incomprehensibilities which may +be left without comment. + +She had struggled so long and doubtfully for the prize, that, by the +time she had won it, she was disposed to undervalue and despise it. + +"I will make him feel in his turn, when in my power, how charming the +sensation of being spitted or speared!" she had threatened, and she kept +her word. + +"I jist knowed it from de fust," declared Aunt Amy, sorrow and anger in +her tones, and the Indian expression assuming mastery in her face. +"Somehow I jist felt it all over me dat dat woman would come aroun' +massa and jes make him marry her. She's 'witched him; she's gin him +love-potions, I make no doubt; and I 'spec's"--here she lowered her +voice to a whisper--"I 'spec's she's sold herself to de debil to make +him help her. Nuthin' else could ever 'duced Massa Duncan to marry such +a--such a crocodile. He'll never be sorry but onc't, and 'dats all his +life." + +"Der's an end to all our 'joyment," sighed Chloe, grown more weighty in +flesh; "de Lord knows what's going to become of us--an' all her host o' +bad niggers mixin' in wid our'n, and she domineerin' ober eberyting. O, +it's an orful bad day for us, sure! An', then, that hateful boy o' +her'n--he's worse 'an pizen, notstan'ing his slick, ile-y ways--'tween +him an' her we'll stan' mighty slim chance. She bad's bad can be, an' he +worse." + +China shed tears silently over her needle, giving now and then a groan. +She, too, was haunted by a presentiment that her happy days were over. +For her, Miss Rusha, as all the servants called her, had ever evinced +unconcealed dislike, for the very reason, it would seem, that it irked +her to behold any person in peace and contentment. She especially hated +meek, gentle, uncomplaining people, and loved to render them +uncomfortable. And China, Ellice's favorite house-servant, was so good, +gentle, and obedient, that her former mistress had seldom found fault +with her. + +Mr. Lisle, immediately after his marriage, had taken his bride North on +a visit to the principal cities, intending to call upon the Temples, to +make acquaintance with his loved sister's child. + +His stay at this latter place was short indeed, for Miss Rusha, +presuming to find fault with Juliet's mode of training, or rather of +indulging Althea, had provoked the latter lady's ire to such a degree as +to render any further tarrying out of the question. For some reason or +other, Mrs. Lisle would have persuaded her husband to make an effort for +gaining the guardianship of his niece. This, however, he peremptorily +refused to do, although he became greatly attached to the child, who was +lovely and winning to a remarkable degree. + +Upon the return to Kennons of the newly-married people, a tutor was +secured for the two boys, Thornton and Hubert. It was soon found, +however, that Kennons was not large enough for them both; that they +could not study peaceably in the same room, nor, without a quarrel, at +least in words, exercise upon the same grounds. The tutor was +overwearied with incessant struggles to keep the two from variance. He +advised that one should be sent away, or, if both should be sent, they +should go to different points of the compass. Mrs. Lisle would not +consent for her only child to go away from her; as to Thornton, he +declared he would not be sent away to school. Hubert was more willing, +at home his life was a misery on account of Thornton and his mother; any +other place would be preferable, thought this motherless boy of eleven +years. He was accordingly sent to a Northern school, where, with +intervals of vacation, he spent the next eight years of his life. + +The servants at Kennons had not been mistaken in their calculations. The +new mistress sowed divisions and discord with a lavish hand. Duncan was +annoyed with complaints against this and that one, until his patience +gave way, and he plainly told his wife that he would not listen to them; +that his servants were uncommonly good until she had come in the midst +of them. Greatly exasperated at this, she treated them still more +harshly. She placed over them her own servants, not out of love for +them, but to humiliate those who had been the faithful servants and +friends of her hated rival, Ellice. + +China was the first victim. She was too ladylike in her deportment, too +quiet and silent in her ways. She was ousted from her low rocker and +favorite window, deprived of her needle, which had in some sort become a +life-companion, and made to do all sorts of drudgery; no settled work, +but hurried from that, this, and the other; never knowing what was +coming next--the hardest kind of work--slavery, indeed. + +China endeavored to do faithfully all that she was bidden; sewing, +however, was her trade; she knew how to do naught else well; she was +consequently chidden and scolded from morning until night. + +Mrs. Lisle's antipathy toward her grew every day more strong. She sought +a cause for having her degraded from the rank of house-servant to +field-hand. She had employed more than one fruitless stratagem. + +China was very fond of oranges. Probably this taste had been cultivated +by her former mistress, who, also, being very partial to the same fruit, +often shared her stores with her favorite servant. Mrs. Lisle became +aware of this. She placed some oranges in the drawer of her bureau, +and, contrary to custom, ordered China to "set the room to rights." + +Morning after morning the fault-finding mistress counted her oranges, +and, to her disappointment, found not one missing. + +On the fourth morning the fatal drawer was left slightly drawn. As China +passed it with her duster the perfume caught her attention; she peeped +within, and the gleam of the oranges tempted her vision; she gazed at +them as did Eve at the apples; she took one in her hands, and thrust it +to her nose; she said to herself, "My dear Miss Ellice would have given +me some of these; Miss Rusha is too mean for human; perhaps she would +never miss one; if she did, how was she to know who took it?" and +thrusting the orange in her pocket, she finished hastily her work, went +out of sight and sound, and feasted upon the coveted dainty. No sooner +was it devoured than she repented heartily. The serpent had tempted her; +she had yielded; now, when the mischief was done, he called her a fool, +and promised her she should be discovered; he did not tell her how soon; +and though China was filled with fears, she little dreamed that that +very moment her relentless enemy was triumphing over her success. + +"An orange has been stolen from my drawer," exclaimed Miss Rusha, +severely, to the knot of servants summoned together by her order; +"stolen without leave or license," reiterated the angry mistress, +though, in truth, more secretly pleased than angry, "and I am bound to +know who is the offender. A thief shall not remain in this house; and I +here warn you all that she who proves to be the culprit shall be +condemned to the fields." + +The women and girls sidled about, grinning, ogling each other with +swimming eyes. China, however, was an exception; she looked neither to +the right nor left, but trembled, and was downcast. It flashed over her +quick mind instantly that for her a trap had been deliberately laid, and +she had stepped straight into it. + +China had heretofore prided herself upon her truthfulness and honesty; +to this she had been trained by the best of mistresses; and if there was +aught on earth she despised it was a deceitful, thieving servant. O, how +had she fallen! + +Buried in her own painful emotions, China had not noticed that the +question put to and denied by the others was now addressed to her. + +"Do you not hear? Are you deaf and dumb, China, that you do not answer +me? Speak, now! Did you, or did you not, steal this orange?" + +Thus suddenly aroused from this painful reverie to confront the angered +eyes of the mistress she both feared and hated, she hesitated, then +said, in a low tone, but defiantly: + +"_I did not._" + +At that moment China hated herself more than her mistress, and glanced +helplessly around, as if for some fig-leaf beneath which to hide. + +"You did not!" repeated the mistress slowly and with emphasis, fastening +upon the poor girl her merciless eyes. "You say you did not; all the +servants say they did not. We will see." + +Mrs. Lisle produced a tiny paper from her pocket, and emptied its +powdered contents into half a wine-glass of water; stirring the mixture, +she gave a spoonful to each suspected person, and then ordered them to +stand in a row in the back-yard. + +This cruel woman watched to see the sable faces turned to a deathly +yellow; ipecacuanha was a successful rack and torture. To all, however, +but to China, did the consciousness of innocence afford alleviation. +Fresh pieces of peel ejected from her stomach gave ample witness as to +who had purloined the orange. All her companions were surprised, some +grieved, some rejoiced; for + + "Base Envy withers at another's joy, + And hates that excellence it cannot reach." + +"It is well for pride to have a fall," said one. + +"She thought herself so much better'n all the rest on us," quoth +another. + +"I allus thought she wa'nt no better'n she should be, for all her +puttin' on such airs," spoke a third contemptuously. + +"She won't find no rocking-chair, nor no time to sing love-songs, nor +make herself bows and fine lady fixins out in de corn and 'bacco patch. +Heigho!" crowed Dinah. + +Amy's Indian eyes swam in tears, and she and the mighty Chloe cast +pitiful glances at their disgraced companion. + +"She never did it of her own 'cord," thought the shrewd Amy; "Miss Rusha +jes threw on her her spell; she 'witched her as she did Massa; she made +her go do it; she jes did now, so!" + +"You will not enter the house again," said Mrs. Lisle to the proved +culprit. "My Jane will bring your things from Aunt Amy's cabin, which +she has allowed you to occupy--you are never to let me see you about the +place again--never--or you will rue the day. I will see Mr. Fuller, the +overseer, who will assign you a place. Now go, deceitful thief and +liar--your punishment is but too mild." + +China, in going out from the home of her master, would fain have gone +around by the grave of Ellice. But, besides thinking she might be +watched, she felt in her disgrace too unworthy to kneel upon that sacred +soil. + +So, scarcely able to hold herself upright, which she must needs do, in +order to support her bundle upon her head, she walked wearily onward, +from the fair white house of Kennons, down the well-worn path that led +to the rude, unsightly cabins of the field-hands, still more rude. + +She was still weak, and suffering from effects of the harsh emetic, and +this, with her shame and sorrow at her crime, more than her banishment, +rendered her hopeless and wretched. + +Duncan Lisle was riding slowly homeward from a consultation with his +overseer. Whose was that reeling, swaying figure in the path before him? +Not China of pleasant face, of quiet speech and mien? No, and yes. What +could it mean? What mortal sickness of mind or body had wrought such +ghastly woe in the face but yesterday so placid? + +"Are you China, or China's ghost?" questioned he, drawing rein as he +came up to this favorite house-servant. + +"You have said it, master Duncan; I am but the ghost of poor China," and +the ponderous bundle dropped first to the horse's nose and then at his +forefeet, while her face fell into her trembling hands, her tears +flowing down through her fingers, the first that she had shed. + +"Tell me all about it, China--but the sun is hot, come under the shade +of this tree," and the master led the way to an umbrageous beech close +by. There, still resting upon his horse, while China leaned against the +enormous trunk, the story was told of the day's doings without +exaggeration or extenuation. + +Though it was a clear story of theft and falsehood, Duncan Lisle +naturally took the same view of it as had the humble Amy. The master of +Kennons had not been ignorant of his wife's systematic persecution of +this inoffensive servant. He had more than once spoken to her on the +subject--but finding he had but made the matter worse, ceased to +interfere. Now, he suspected China to be the victim of a successful +plot. His wife had made a bold move, and without his sanction. A more +fiery man, yielding to indignation and to a sense of the injustice +wrought, would have taken China home again, saying to his wife both by +word and action, that he was still master in his own house, and of his +own servants. But Duncan Lisle knew that life for China at the house was +over. She had been long enough suffering incessant martyrdom under the +heavy sway of the new mistress. Yes, it would be better for her to go +away. He regarded her pityingly; then that emotion was quickly reflected +from her to himself. + +"_She_ can go away--_she_ can find happiness elsewhere. O, is there not +somewhere in the wide world a place of beautiful peace?" groaned the +unhappy man to himself, while his eyes wandered involuntarily toward the +white column that gleamed in the sunlight nearly a mile distant. By an +effort the master recovered himself. + +"So she has sent you down to be with Bet, and Nan, and Kizzie, and Sam, +Jake, Jim, and all those fellows? You can't live there a month. Would +you like your freedom, China? Would you like to go to Richmond--you +could get plenty of places, either as nurse or seamstress?" + +"O, master Duncan, I should die if I had to leave Kennons"--for this +first thought of complete separation from all she had known and loved +was intolerable. + +"You can try it then down yonder. I will ride down to-night or +to-morrow, and speak to Mr. Fuller. You can be thinking it over. You +have been a good girl--I owe you something. If you can't stand it +there--and I know you can't--I will give you papers of manumission and +money to take you to Richmond. You have a close mouth--do not speak of +this. Well, keep up heart and God bless you." + +The master and servant parted--the one to ride wearily to his unpeaceful +home, the other to journey along more hopefully to the shadeless cabins +in the fields. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + +CHINA--UNCLE MAT'S PRAYER MEETING. + + +Compared to the field-hands, who were little more than heathen and +barbarian, our favorite China was a princess. One day and night among +them proved to the unhappy girl that her master was in the right--she +could not live with them. If she had met with suspicion, jealousy, and +envy beneath her master's roof, she could not expect to escape it in her +new home, where ignorance and all the baser passions ruled. + +Toward night on the following day, which was Saturday, the master +appeared at the cabins. He found China weeping disconsolately in the +shade of a tree. So profoundly was she buried in her grief, she saw not +her master until she heard his voice. For many hours had she watched his +coming. When she had ceased to look for him, his kind voice aroused her +to a momentary gladness. + +"O, Master Duncan! Master Duncan!" was all she could utter. + +"Bad enough, yes; I knew how it would be; I knew you would be willing to +leave Kennons after you had tried this. I have just returned from Flat +Rock; have had all the papers made for you; China, you are a free +woman!" + +"O, Master Duncan! good Master Duncan!" was all she could say again. + +"Here, China, this is probably the last present I shall ever make you," +handing to her a portmonnaie containing a few pieces of silver and gold, +as also the invaluable papers of manumission. He withdrew it again as +she was extending her hand, remarking: + +"It is better, however, that it should be in the hands of Mr. Fuller. He +is to go with you to-night to Flat Rock. You will remain at the 'Bald +Eagle' until the train passes on Monday. You could remain at Petersburg +if you chose, but my friends at Richmond can help you. I have written +them, and they will see you properly cared for. Mr. Fuller will hand you +this"--referring to the portmonnaie--"and you must guard it carefully. +It is not sufficient that you carry it in your pocket; you should +secrete it in some part of your dress, fastening it securely. You have a +needle and thread? Well, then, do as I have told you. Be a good +girl--honest and truthful; when I come to Richmond I will see you. +There, don't cry now; you can yet be happy. I must have another talk +with Fuller;"--seeing that personage approaching--"I shall not see you +again; take care of yourself, and good-bye;"--and the master stretched +down his hand--for he was still on horseback--which China grasped and +presumed to kiss. + +"There, that will do, my good girl; and don't forget what your Miss +Ellice taught you." + +This unusual reference to her former mistress was another stab for poor +China. As her master rode away, she threw herself down upon the ground, +making mournful moans that might have softened the hardest heart. + +The field-hands, coming up from work an hour later, beheld with rage and +dismay the intended victim of their malice mounted upon one of the +fleetest horses upon the plantation, and Mr. Fuller all ready to mount +another. He was but waiting to give additional orders to this unruly +gang. This being done, each equestrian gave a slight stroke of the whip, +and the horses galloped away from a hundred staring eyes. + +"Let us fling a stone at her," said one. + +"Let us set up a mighty howl," suggested a second. + +"And git a mighty floggin' for yer pains," sneered a third, who was +possessed of a grain of discretion. + +China's heart lightened as she left the cabins and the intolerable red +sands upon which they were situated. It was not the first time she had +seen the uncouth faces and forms of the motley group who had been +vengefully regarding her; but their appearance had seemed doubly +appalling when viewed in the light of being her associates for life. Out +of their sight she breathed freely again, and coming shortly into the +main road, a feeling almost of joy seized her. + +"I will not weep or be sad any more. I will leave the old life behind +me, and Miss Rusha too, thank the Lord. Ah, poor Master Duncan! what a +life he must live of it--the best master that ever servant had--good, +kind Master Duncan! The trees hide Kennons from view; I shall not see +it again. I would liked to have said farewell to Bessie, and to Chloe +and Amy, and to Miss Rusha's Kizzie, too. I wonder if I ever shall see +one of them any more;" and in spite of her resolution not to cry, China +was obliged to wipe the tears that blinded her eyes. + +Mr. Fuller was a model overseer. Nobody knew from what quarter of the +world he had hailed. He had been overseer for Duncan Lisle during seven +years, and no one had ever heard him allude to any antecedents. He was a +silent, reserved man of fifty years, perhaps, possessed good judgment, +discerning sense of right and wrong, was inflexibly just, and invariably +faithful to his word. + +Duncan Lisle might well felicitate himself upon having secured so +invaluable an assistant. He had never found, and was never expecting to +find, his confidence misplaced. Trust begets trust, and master and +overseer had become excellent friends. + +Mr. Fuller had, however, a history of his own, but it lay away in +England, where he prudently resolved to let it remain forever buried. +For China he discharged his mission faithfully, exchanging with her only +indispensable words, and, confiding to her care the precious +portmonnaie, bade adieu both to her and to the "Bald Eagle," returning +to Kennons after midnight. + +China formed a pleasant acquaintance with the servants of the "Bald +Eagle," and passed her Sunday very agreeably. At night she was invited +to attend Uncle Mat's prayer-meeting. Uncle Mat was a personage of +importance, not only in his own estimation, but in that of many others. +His master was a drunken fellow, who had squandered most of his +substance. By degrees he had lost the greater part of his plantation, +had sold the most of his servants, his wife had died, children married +and gone, and but for Mat he would have gone to utter ruin long ago. It +was Mat who interfered in bloody quarrels, receiving blows and +vituperations himself; it was Mat who walked by his master's side from +elections, fairs, shows, etc., steadying him when he reeled, picking him +up when he fell, dragging him from horses' feet and drunken men's +knives, and keeping the breath of life in him by sheer watchfulness and +unflagging exertion. + +In return for this devotion, the master, Dick Rogers, gave but abuse of +hand and tongue. But Uncle Mat was a Christian. He had a gift at prayer +and exhortation. He could read, strange to say, and sing, of course. Mat +was older than his master. Dick had been an only son, petted and +spoiled. Mat had been his body-servant from his babyhood. Dick's father, +upon his dying bed, had exacted from Mat a promise that he would always +have a care for his reckless son. Mat had fulfilled his vow. Mat had +learned to read by hearing the governess teach Dick. To shame the latter +into diligence, it was a habit with Miss Train to call up the black boy, +who exhibited more capacity and willingness than her pupil. + +The servant was of a serious, reflective turn of mind. He became +converted at a Methodist camp-meeting, and as he became a kind of +preacher among his own people, he staid converted. He had one fault, to +speak not of others. He was irascible to a great degree; a mosquito or a +flea would drive him into a passion. But throughout his long career as +guardian of his master, he had been never known to lose patience with +him. Even mothers become vexed exceedingly with undutiful children; but +this care of Mat for his worthless master exceeded even that of a mother +for her child. Exceeded? Nay, we will say equalled. + +It was somewhat rare in the slave States for servants to meet for +religious purposes; insurrection might brood under such a cover. Mat, +however, was so well known and so universally esteemed in his +neighborhood, that he was allowed to hold his prayer-meetings every +Sunday night. + +It was to one of these that China went with her new-made friends. Nancy +Carter's cabin was the meeting-house _pro tem_. It had been prepared for +the occasion by an elaborate trimming of oak leaves and green boughs. +Bouquets of flowers were interspersed with lights upon the preacher's +stand. This invasion against white people's customs was due probably to +the intense love which Afric's sons and daughters have for the +"beautiful flowers." + +Mat, tall and dignified always, seemed magnified in proportions and +dignity when installed behind his stand of flowers and lights. His +initial proceeding was invariably a great flourish of his white cotton +handkerchief. + +If Mat had a source of vanity deeper than another, it was of this +above-mentioned article; and this, too, was so well known of him, that +most of his presents consisted of handkerchiefs. He had, among his +deposits, a good-sized box full of these useful and ornamental +inventions. There was one from Lucy and Lizzie, four Sallies, three +Dinahs, three Betties, two or three Janes, as many Anns, and hosts of +others too numerous to mention. And every one of those donors looked +steadily at the flourish of the preacher, if happily her own gift had +come to the coveted honor. + +The first prayer consisted of very large words very fervently uttered. +This was comparatively brief, as a lengthy one for the whole world was +to follow the first hymn. + +Mat had adopted, of course, the custom of his superiors in the matter of +singing. He read from the book the first two lines of the hymn, which +the congregation seized and sung to the best of their ability. Two lines +more were read, when music of voice, if not of words, became +distinguishable. + +Upon this occasion the preacher seemed troubled with unusual +indistinctness of vision. He took his glasses from his nose more than +once, violently rubbing them with his spotless handkerchief. Taking up +his book for the third time, his eyes or his spectacles seemed still to +be at fault. Perplexed and irritated, he exclaimed, unguardedly: + +"Dog-gone-it! my eyes are dim; I cannot see to read this hymn." + +The congregation supposing it all right, tuned up, and repeated it, +though one would have been at great loss to make sense out of the +myriad-syllabled confusion. + +The preacher, surprised, attempted to explain. He said energetically, +book still in hand: + +"I did not mean to sing that hymn, I only meant my eyes were dim." + +The simple people, still supposing the hymn to be continued, again +poured forth volumes of sound. + +In vain the preacher gesticulated, stamped, and threatened. So varied +usually were the performances, this was thought to be but part of the +programme. When the music hushed again the preacher cried: + +"The devil must be in you all, that is no hymn to sing at all!" + +Were those black people wilfully stupid? By no means. They did not know +but they were doing as they had always done. The hymn-book was Greek to +them, words were words; therefore they took up Uncle Mat's last words as +innocently as if they had been + + "On Jordan's stormy banks I stand, + And cast a wishful eye." + +Uncle Mat's patience gave out completely; he hurled his book at the +musical leader's head: + +"Dere, now see if ye can stop yer 'fernal noise. What bizness yer sing +dat? Dats nothin' for to sing. You don't know nothin'. You biggest heap +o' wooly heads I eber did see. Was der eber such a pack o' +ignerant-ramuses eber in dis world afore? I answer 'firmatively--no! +What's de use o' temptin' to preach to sich people? Dey wouldn't know if +one was to rise from de dead. Not know de diff'rence 'tween psalm tunes +an nuffin else! Dis people be dismissed." + +The latter sentence was pronounced most disdainfully. The chorister, +with head unbroken, and temper unruffled, arose and begged they might +all be forgiven their heedlessness; it would be so great a +disappointment to have the meeting broken up so prematurely, it would +give them great pleasure if Uncle Mat would be _so_ kind as to dispense +with singing and proceed to prayers and exhortations. One or two other +prominent members followed in much the same strain, flattering the +indignant preacher by making special reference to his eloquence and +popularity. + +This had the desired effect. Uncle Mat became mollified, and wiping the +angry perspiration from his brow, he embarked upon his longest +prayer--during which our China and many others fell fast asleep. + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + +KIZZIE. + + +"Lucy," said Mrs. Lisle, to a dwarfed child of thirteen years, who was +one of those creatures expected to "run two ways at once," "run, Lucy, +and tell Kizzie to come straight here to me." + +The winged child came speedily back, accompanied by the weaver, a stolid +looking old negress named Kizzie. + +"Kizzie," exclaimed her mistress, "I know you have stolen the cover to +that barrel that has been standing for so long outside the store-room." + +"What for should I want wid de cover, Missis?" inquired the servant. + +"That is for you to tell, and right soon too--do you hear me?" + +"I have never touched the cover, Missis." + +"I do not believe you. Who has then?" + +"Sure, an' I doesn't know. You allus lays eberyting on to me, Missis, +when I'se jes as in'cent--" + +"I wish to hear none of your palaver. You have stolen from me +repeatedly; you know you have been just as hateful as you could be ever +since--ever since Joe went away." + +Mrs. Lisle had not designed this reference to Joe. Any mention of his +name only made Kizzie more intractable. + +Kizzie had been standing upon the threshold of her mistress' chamber, +upon which she now sank down as if she had been shot. She had rolled +herself into a ball, her grey head buried in her lap, from which issued +the most protracted unearthly howl. This was succeeded by passionate +ejaculations, in which "my poor Joe--my poor dear Joe, my baby--my last +and only one"--were alone distinguishable. + +"Kizzie, stop that acting, and get up from there," commanded Mrs. Lisle. + +The ball swayed to and fro, but evinced no disposition for unbending. + +"Bring me the whip, Lucy--we shall see." + +The blows fell heavy and fast, but as for outward demonstration, cry or +moan, that human form might as well have been a cotton bale. + +The wearied hand of the mistress dropped by her side. She leaned against +the casement panting for breath. Then Kizzie uprose tearless and stern. + +"Miss Rusha, after this cruel floggin', I've a right to speak; but if +you had a human heart I would not have this much to say. One after +another ye sold my four big boys to the slave-buyer. You promised you +would leave me my baby--my Joe. When he was fourteen years old you sold +him too. You rob me of my five boys, and you 'cuse _me_ of stealin' a +barrel-cover! Miss Rusha, de judgments of de Lord will come upon you. +Dis is my prayer, ebery day, ebery hour. Ye may whip, ye may kill--my +prayer is mine own prayer to pray." + +"Lucy," exclaimed Mrs. Lisle, now able again to speak, "run down to +Thornton Hall and tell Mr. Hill to come here at once." + +Mr. Hill was Mrs. Lisle's overseer. + +"You will do no such thing, Lucy; and, madam, you have done enough," +said the indignant voice of Mr. Lisle, who had entered upon the scene. +"Go to your cabin, Kizzie; call for Amy and take her along with you." + +Kizzie disappeared, and Mr. Lisle, meeting boldly the angered face of +his wife, inquired into the origin of this disgraceful scene. + +"Kizzie is mine, not yours. I have a right to do with my slaves as +pleases me," said the wife. + +"If you have a slave who deserves kindness at your hands, it is Kizzie. +You have cruelly wronged her. To have killed her outright would have +been a kindness compared to the injury you have inflicted upon her." + +"How you talk, Duncan Lisle! One would think you a northern abolitionist. +I understand whence you imbibed such principles"--sneeringly--"just as +though one has not a perfect right to sell a slave if he wishes to! +Don't talk to me in any such way. I have done nothing that I need be +sorry for. But Kizzie is indeed the most hateful slave on the +plantation. I believe she steals just for the sake of stealing. What +earthly use could she have for that cover, which she denies having +taken, but which has mysteriously disappeared just when I happened to +want it?" + +"To what cover do you refer?" questioned her husband. + +He was informed. + +"I saw some little black fellows rolling something of the kind back of +the stables this morning. Lucy, go hunt them up, and have the cover +found. Is such a trifle sufficient to drive you into a passion, in which +you accuse and punish an innocent person wrongfully?" + +"I repeat to you, Mr. Lisle, that I shall do as I please with my own +servants, and yours too, as you will find, and _have_ found, I should +think. Moreover, I am not going to be lectured by you as if I were a +child"--Mrs. Lisle flung herself out of the room, to vent her bad humor +upon whatever ill-starred persons should cross her path. + +To do justice to Mrs. Lisle, she had intended to have sold both Kizzie +and her son to the same buyer. As she herself said, she was always +having trouble with Kizzie. There were times when she was positively +afraid of her. Just before the proposed sale she had had a serious +difficulty with her. Mistress and servant regarded each other as two +enraged tigers might do, whenever they met. Mrs. Lisle made up her mind +she would have Kizzie taken to the Court House and sold. Court was to be +holden in a week or so; at such a time more or less slaves were put up +at auction. + +Kizzie was not sorry when informed of the proposed plan; though she +shared, with others of her class, a horror of being "sold South," she +had come to think she could not possibly fall into more cruel hands. +Besides, in that region so terrible to the imagination of the slaves, +she might come across one or all of her lost sons! At any rate, she +would be beneath the same sky, and the dear hope of meeting them would +be a continual comfort. + +A whole day was consumed by Tippy--her real name was Xantippe--in +plucking out Aunt Kizzie's grey hairs, and in fixing her up to appear to +the best advantage for youth and sprightliness. She was only sixty, but +hard labor and severe usage had told upon her heavily. + +Aunt Kizzie, in her new linsey-woolsey and shining bandana as a turban, +started off in great glee for the Court House. That she might appear +there fresh, brisk, and pert, she was not suffered to walk, but +Washington, the coachman, was ordered to drive her in the ark of the +plantation wagon. Joe, smart, smiling, and newly-equipped in clothes, +sat by her side, scarcely knowing whether he had best share in his +mother's uncommon gaiety, or yield to his own anxious misgiving. + +Another thing contributed to Aunt Kizzie's happiness. All the way to the +Court House she was at perfect liberty to caress her nosegay of pinks +and camomile. Kizzie had two grand passions; one was for her children, +the other for her fragrant pinks. If she was allowed a garden patch the +size of a hat-crown, it was devoted to her favorite flowers. She was +wont to have her loom festooned with them; she drank in their perfume as +did her web its woof; by night she had them scattered over her pillow, +that, even in sleep, she might not lose their presence. + +"I should think pinks would grow out of her nose," the servants were in +the habit of remarking. It really often looked like they did, for, +morning and evening, at her milking, her nose, instead of her hand, +served as bouquet-holder. + +Over the rough roads then, from Thornton Hall to the Court House, her +attention was devoted to Joe and her pinks. She was to be sold--that was +true--but then she had left a hated mistress. She had with her all she +loved, her immense nosegay, her baby Joe, and, in her small bundle, her +one pair of ruffled pillow-slips. She was starting out in the world +again, and the world looked to her unaccountably new and beautiful. + +It was morning now that shone upon Aunt Kizzie and her child. But night +came, utterly dark and cheerless night, to both mother and boy. The two +were put upon the block together. The boy showed for himself. But the +sexagenarian human chattel was mercilessly scrutinized. She was made to +sing, dance, and run. Her red turban was torn off, and in spite of the +hirsutian manipulations to which she had been subjected, her wool +appeared, like Shakspeare's spirits, mixed, black, white, and grey. + +She was seized by the nose and chin, as if she had been a horse, and +made to distend her jaws even painfully. She experienced a qualm or two +when she thought of what a story her few remaining broken teeth would +tell. Still, like the world and all the "rest of mankind," she had +never fully realized that she had passed her prime and her usefulness. + +This purchaser did not want her, nor did that, nor alas! the other! Each +and every one were eager for the boy. The auctioneer's instructions had +been to sell the two together, if possible, if not, at all events to +sell the boy, as he would command a good price, and _money must be_ +raised. + +Kizzie went wild when she saw her boy knocked off to a man who refused +to take her, even as a gift! + +O angels in heaven, what pitiful sights do ye not behold upon this earth +of ours! Had ye no drop of balm from your vials of tender mercy to pour +into the desolate heart of the stricken slave-mother, as she returned +homeward in the dark, clutching frantically at her withered pinks, as +did the talons of the vulture of grief at her wounded heart! + +This blow to poor Kizzie occurred about the time of her mistress' +marriage. The price of her agony, the money obtained for Joe, was sent +to New York, and returned to Mrs. Rush in glittering jewels. Had this +haughty woman been capable of realizing her sin, the showy baubles would +have melted in the fiery furnace of her shame and contrition. + +Kizzie became a changed woman; crazed, as some thought. Joe had been her +baby, and her baby still at fourteen. How could her baby get along +without his mother? This was the burden of her complaint, her unceasing +utterance of sorrow. And still she lived on, sitting from morning until +night at her loom, her tear of sorrow or sigh of despair inwoven with +every thread, and from her bleeding heart going up the incessant prayer +for Heaven's vengeance upon her persecutor. + +One day, not far off, shall it not be more tolerable for Kizzie than for +the beautiful mistress of Thornton Hall? + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + +TIME AND CHANGE. + + +Time and change! Why add the latter word? Doth not the former include +all? Doth not time sadly overcome all things? + +And this Time, which, according to Sir Thomas Brown, sitteth on a +sphinx, and looketh into Memphis and old Thebes, which reclineth on a +pyramid, gloriously triumphing, making puzzles of Titanian erections, +and turning old glories into dreams--or something to that effect. This +old Father Time, so much abused, misused, has given ten years to +Kennons, ten years to Philip and his second wife in the far away homes +of the Mussulman, ten years to the little Althea, who has bloomed into a +beautiful girl of fourteen, beneath the roof of her loving guardians, +John and Juliet Temple. + +Ten years! and the fiery war of words has been followed by the deadlier +fire of arms; civil war has raged over the sunny South, destroyed loving +homes, mutilated fair forms, blotted out countless lives, and sent +multitudes of souls unshriven before their Maker; but thanks be to God, +riveted bonds have been broken and the slave hath been set free! Grand +as was the sacrifice, infinite was the gain. + +"I thought," said Amy, when she stood on her mount of Pisgah, rolling up +her melancholy eyes to the heaven, whence her deliverance had come, "I +thought it would come some time, to our children, or our children's +children, but not in my time, and to me! Moses was in de wilderness +forty years; for what should I tink dat de Lord would gib us our liberty +sooner'n to his own faithful servant? And we to have our'n in four +years! But I knew it would come some time, sure as was a God in heaven. +Hadn't we been prayin' and prayin', an' beseechin', an' how could de +Lord stan' de prayers of such 'pressed, trodden people as we? Bress de +Lord, O my soul, an' all dat is in me!" + +Thousands like Amy sang their songs of deliverance. And like her, they +arose from the sad waters of their Babylon, took their harps from the +willows, seeking out joyfully new ways to lands of promise. + +Those persons who had been kind, nay, even moderately just to their +servants, were not at once abandoned. Some for months, some for years, +were still faithfully served for hire. As a rule, however, the freed +people scattered; but they went not far from their life-long homes. An +innate love for early scenes and associations kept them where they might +occasionally visit familiar persons and places. + +Duncan Lisle was now a grave man of fifty. Threads of silver shone in +his dark hair, but his tall form was erect and graceful as ever. He had +become, in manner and speech, exceedingly reserved; his countenance wore +almost habitually a melancholy, thoughtful expression. There were +times, however, when his still attractive face lighted up with the old +smile; and that smile revealed a gentle, noble spirit, still retaining +its freshness unchafed by the carking cares and vexatious trials to +which he had been daily subject. While to some men association with so +peculiar and trying a nature as Rusha Thornton's might have brought +moroseness and all unloveliness, Duncan Lisle, like the philosopher of +hemlock fame, had turned his wife's shrewishness into a coat of armor, +within which he preserved his soul serene, contemplative, and peaceful. +This is saying very much for Duncan Lisle. + +During the stormy period to which we have just referred, when the nation +was in her throes of anguish, Mr. Lisle remained loyal to the +Government. Aside from reason, common-sense, and humanity, he had seen +more than enough in his wife's treatment of servants to disgust him with +slavery. Though he took no active part, and, except when occasion +required, preserved his usual reticence upon this subject also, he was +nevertheless heart and soul upon the one side. + +It is needless to observe that his wife was upon the other extreme. The +idea of slavery was grateful to her intolerant nature. For herself she +acknowledged no superior. The very God Almighty of Heaven she never took +into _her_ account. Had she been Lucifer among the angels, she too would +have rebelled. Had she been daughter of Servius Tullius, she would have +ridden over the dead body of her father. The golden rule was for others +to practice, not for her; its Divine Author, the God-Man, was beyond her +comprehension; His teachings fit but for underlings and slaves. Though +scorning and hating the slave, she clung to slavery as if it were her +life's blood. She poured forth all the venom of her nature upon the +Northern foe, which was aiming to seize this petted horror from her +grasp. She recalled often the tyrant's wish; like him would have given +worlds had the subjects of Yankeedom but a single neck, that she might +sever the Gorgonian head at one happy stroke. + +She went almost wild upon the subject, and was the more violent that she +could not draw her husband into her views. It was not enough that he +should listen with apparent patience to her harangues, she demanded his +verbal assent to her opinions. His silence, his attempts at evasion, +provoked her equally as his firmly expressed disapproval. Nothing could +satisfy her. + +The marching of soldiers came even upon the grounds of Kennons. At times +the noise and smoke of battle filled the atmosphere, as had the direful +cholera thirty years before. + +Rusha Lisle would have turned Kennons into an hospital for Southern +soldiers. Even when her husband, hiding for his life, was hunted and +dogged by rebel soldiers, her hand fed them with food; _her_ hand that +was never known to be stretched forth in charity to the deserving; nay, +the roof, forbidden by prowling rebels to shelter its master, was +proffered to his enemies by its dishonored mistress. + +When tried beyond reason, Duncan Lisle arose in his wrath and asserted +his mastery. Well might any true woman have quailed before that +uprising, but not Rusha Thornton Lisle. A woman weaker-minded would +have packed her silver, gathered her valuables, and fled to Thornton +Hall, where she might harbor her dear rebels _ad infinitum_. This +strong-minded woman well knew that by such a course of action she would +be pleasing everybody but herself. She was not so fond of conferring +happiness, nor so capable of self-sacrifice. So she continued to wage +war within her household, more constantly vexatious to her husband, more +tyrannous to her servants. + +What added to Mrs. Lisle's bitterness was the conduct of her son. At the +opening of hostilities, he had joined a rebel company, inflated with the +idea that in a few weeks, or months at farthest, the Northern "mudsills" +would be overwhelmed and out of sight. No one, except his mother, had +talked louder and faster than himself. With his single hand he could +slay a dozen of the cowardly Yankees. + +After all this bravado, at the first smell of gunpowder, Thornton Rush +threw down his firearms in a panic and ran as if from a sweeping tempest +of fire and brimstone. Sleeping by day in hollow logs, traveling by +night with haste and stealth, he made his way to the hated Northern +lines, went as fast as cars could carry him to New York city, and, on a +flying steamer, sneaked to Europe. There, once landed, he wrote his +mother a letter. She had thought him dead, and mourned him proudly, as +for a hero fallen for his country. She half read his letter, and threw +it into the fire. Not dead, but a poltroon, a coward! She stamped her +foot with contempt. _Her_ son to lack courage?--_her_ son a deserter +from his post? She, woman as she was, would have gone into battle with +the courage of a Caesar, the constancy of a Hannibal; but this son of +hers, in whose veins flowed the cowardly northern blood, what could she +expect of him, the son of Jude Rush?--and she curled her lip with +contempt for both father and son. She ceased to mention his name, and +revealed to no one that he still lived. Moreover, she disdained +answering his letter, even had she not destroyed his written, but unread +address and fictitious name. + +Hubert Lisle, too, had volunteered, but it was to his country, and he +was contending bravely, steadfastly, in the Northern ranks. Only good +reports came back to Kennons of Ellice's brave son. This was galling to +Rusha's pride; but it refuted silently her assertion that courage flowed +not in Northern blood, for Hubert's mother had been a Northerner. + +This young man, at the firing of Sumter, had passed his twenty-first +year. He had graduated with honor from school and college, and was on +the eve of embarking for Paris, where he was to pursue his medical +studies. The call of his country stayed his uplifted foot, and placed in +his not unwilling hand weapons of metal other than implements of +dissection. + +For three years Hubert was on active duty, when he became one of the +unlucky prisoners at Salisbury. At the end of three months he was +amongst the exchanged, and emerged from that infamous place such a +walking skeleton as might have scared a ghost. Being unable to reenter +the service, after several weeks recruiting in the hospital, he was +permitted to visit Kennons. + +That was a harder place for him than Salisbury. If it were not so trite, +we would say he had fallen from Scylla upon Charybdis; or, if it were +not vulgar, we might assert him to have fallen from the frying-pan into +the fire; we will simply say, that not finding his father's wife at all +agreeable, and having a remote suspicion that she might be tempted to +put something that was not pure Java into his coffee, he left, after a +few days, for the more congenial city where his college days had been +spent. + +The civil war, then, had come to a close. Men had fought bravely on +either side. It is idle to assert that all the courage and gallantry was +with one or with the other. Both Northerner and Southerner fought like +men. Right conquered, and the South yielded gracefully enough. The +humiliation of her proud spirit was sufficient for her to bear; taunts +and sneers should have been spared her. + +Mr. Fuller was still overseer at Kennons, and had managed with Mr. Lisle +to retain a majority of the field-hands at a fair salary. + +Of the house-servants, Amy and Chloe, being well advanced in years, +offered to remain for the sake of their master. He, knowing what it must +have cost them to make this resolve, and touched by their devotion, +counselled them to leave at least the house. On the farthest corner of +his plantation he would give them a few acres, build them a cabin, +where, with their youngest children, they could live comfortably. This +proposal they received with joy; they would be near the dear master, +while removed from the authority of the mistress. + +As to Rusha's servants, at the first announcement of freedom, every one +went out from her presence forever, so soon as they could gather their +wretched wardrobes into shape for departure. The most of them wore their +all away, and that was sufficiently scanty. All went, we say. No, Kizzie +remained. She was now a poor old woman of seventy. While watching the +others depart, she sat down upon a rickety bench, folded her bony +fingers over her knees, and cried silently. She was thinking. It would +be hard either way, to go out among strangers, or to stay where her life +had been so sorry and hopeless. She believed, on the whole, she would +stay. + +She did not like to leave her little cabin, where she had suffered so +much, and where, after all, she had had her crumbs of comfort. How could +she sleep out of her own bed, whose pillows were now ever adorned with +her own article of luxury--ruffled pillow-slips? How could she leave +that household god which stood day and night by her bedside, the cradle +that had rocked her children? Should she find elsewhere a patch of +ground for her darling pinks? + +Besides, had there not been deep in her heart a hope that some time one +of her boys--Joe, perhaps--might be led to seek his mother? How should +he find her if she went out none knowing whither? Yes, she would stay. + +Miss Rusha was glad of her resolution. She had hired a stranger for +cook, and Kizzie, though now somewhat decrepit, could do her many a +service. But it was not in this woman's nature to acknowledge a +kindness; she acted and spoke as if she were doing this old servant a +great favor by allowing her to remain. + +It was but a few days ere Mrs. Lisle, who was now more than ever hasty +in temper, raised her hand against Kizzie. Kizzie's eyes flashed, and +she answered her mistress with angry words. This was more than Mrs. +Lisle could bear, and she struck her a blow. + +"A free woman to be whipped like a slave," thought Kizzie; "that time +has gone by;" and she threatened to leave. + +"Go whenever you please," said the lady. + +But Kizzie could not go, and did not. She had borne so much, she might +endure a little more. + +Her pertinacity in staying induced Mrs. Lisle to throw off all +restraint. She believed nothing would force her to leave, and fell back +to her former mode of treatment of this pitiable woman. There came a +limit, however, to Kizzie's endurance. She packed up her few goods, +firmly resolved to see her mistress' face no more. She would stay a few +days at Amy's and Chloe's, and then go farther. She would have taken up +her abode altogether with them, as Mr. Lisle advised, only that she and +those amiable women had not been the best of friends. Kizzie had been +too solitary and brooding to form a pleasant companion. At the last +moment she might again have hesitated had she not already sent her +parcels ahead of her by a chance black man. + +Having cast a last lingering look about her cabin, she leaned over her +cradle, which she wet with her tears. Then going into the sunlight, she +bent down over her patch of pinks, which were now in fullest fragrance. +She had fallen on her knees, bowing over, and burying her wrinkled face +in the rich mass of bloom and beauty. + +Kizzie's heart had not broken over the cradle, nor was it doomed to +break over her beloved blossoms. A man's step startled her. Raising her +head, a tall, dignified military officer of color met her view. He +approached her close, looking steadily at her with those smiling, +pleasant eyes which Kizzie had never forgotten, could never forget, were +they in her Joe of fourteen, or in this fine looking officer. Her heart +said--"It is my Joe; my baby Joe," but her lips could not syllable a +word. + +"Mother," said the trembling, glad voice, though so deep and heavy, "you +still love your pinks, mother, do you still love your Joe?" + +Ah, what a meeting was that! The wonder is that Kizzie survived it. +Sorrow, grief, had not killed, neither did joy. + +When Joe told his mother he had come for her to accompany him North, she +proposed taking her pinks, earth and all. + +"O no mother, I have a house and garden of my own; you shall have a +place for your pinks as large as you wish." + +The old woman looked up at him questioningly. Before she could speak he +said: + +"I see what you wish to know, yes, I am married." "And have a baby Joe" +too, he would have added, only that he had resolved his mother should be +taken by surprise in the visible knowledge of her grandchild. + +It was not now difficult for Kizzie to leave her old home; and as she +journeyed northward astonished by new scenes, she learned from Joe his +history since their painful separation. + +He had grieved so for his mother that his new master thought it best to +part with him in a neighboring State. He had fallen into good hands; he +had learned to read and write. At the breaking out of the war he had +deserted his master and escaped North. Here he had enlisted as a +soldier, and after much active service had been raised to rank of +Lieutenant in his company. He had found time to marry a runaway +slave-girl, whom he sent North. He and she were both prudent and +industrious, and when the war was over had means to purchase them a +comfortable home. He had always been determined to revisit his mother. +The visit had been doubly pleasant, since he had fought for her liberty +and his own. + +When Kizzie arrived at her son's home, and was introduced to his wife +and the unsuspected baby, she was again speechless. But her silent +prayer was that her years might be lengthened out to the number of +Methuseleh's, in order long to enjoy this unaccustomed happiness. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + +THE ST. LEGERS. + + +John Temple had been a three month's volunteer at the commencement of +the war. But his business so much suffered, and his absence so +distracted his wife, that he considered it his duty, after his term of +service had expired, to remain at home. John Temple, for the son of an +Irishman, was a man of a great deal of equanimity. He could face a body +of soldiers without flinching, and he could meet daily the frivolousness +and folly, the bagatelles and boutades of his pretty wife without losing +patience. That he could do the one was not strange or uncommon; but to +do the other without seeking the satisfaction of slamming a door, +kicking a footstool across the floor, or boxing the children's ears, was +truly remarkable. + +It was well for Juliet that she had married a man whose disposition and +temperament was so the reverse of her own. She was one of those who +delight in fancying her own life to be filled with more trials and +troubles than any other person's can be. And why? She had a beautiful +home, rich and fashionable in its appointments, plenty of servants at +her command, horses, carriage and driver at her disposal, a niece of +remarkable loveliness and beauty, a son and daughter somewhat spoiled, +who inherited fortunately their mother's beauty and their father's good +sense; a kind and indulgent husband--what more could she wish? + +Ah, Juliet Temple! the hand of sorrow had never touched thee. The sacred +form of grief had passed thee by. Death had flitted around thee, taking +others, leaving thee and thine. Father and mother, brother and sisters, +husband and children all remained to thee! Yet did'st thou never raise +thy heart in thanksgiving unto God, but suffered it to be depressed and +fretted at the nameless trifles that came vexingly. + +Few persons, like Juliet, live to the age of thirty-five without having +suffered losses and afflictions. Juliet never paused to consider this. +She never reflected, even at a funeral, that thus far she had been +spared, but that her turn must come. When she gazed upon poverty and +distress no thought that such might have been, or might still be hers, +crossed her mind. She was more unhappy than the cripple or the beggar +that passed her by. + +To such souls come awakenings, soon or late; sometimes gentle, sometimes +startling as an earthquake. + +Captain St. Leger, who had seldom visited home of late years, on a +recent return had taken with him his invalid wife to China. He had +opened business relations at a principal port, which had gradually +become his more usual stopping place and home. Mrs. St. Leger had +improved somewhat on the voyage; and the first letter received from her +on her arrival was favorable. Little then were the daughters prepared +for the succeeding letter which contained intelligence of her death. + +The long illness of their mother had prepared the elder daughters in a +measure for the event. Juliet had not anticipated such a thing. She had +thought only of seeing her mother return from her lengthy voyage +recruited in health and spirits, with her old taste and ability revived +for society and amusements. She shut herself up in a room and grieved +inordinately. Had her own and father's household lay dead before her, +she could not have assumed a wilder sorrow. In vain her husband soothed +and reasoned. Her mother had been a great sufferer; she could not expect +but that she must some time die; she was beyond the reach of pain; for +her the agony of death was over. All to no purpose. She would have no +comfort in husband, children, or sisters; her mother was dead, and she +would not be comforted. + +John Temple thought it would do her good to see Dr. Browne; he +accordingly sent for him, and without her knowledge. + +Dr. Browne called; but to see him Juliet persistently refused. The real +reason was because she was in wretched _deshabille_, her face was +swollen with weeping, and it would be such a weary work to do her hair. +No; her vanity was yet stronger than her grief, and she would not be +seen by Dr. Browne. + +Two months passed, and Juliet had recovered her usual composure, if +composure can be used in connection with so unrestful a creature. + +And now came a letter from the hand of a stranger, bearing news of the +sudden death by apoplexy of Captain St. Leger. + +This was indeed unexpected, and created in the family a much greater +sensation than had the death of the mother. + +The Van Rensaleers and the Langs began to inquire about the condition of +the property. Without consulting Mr. Temple, the husbands of Leonora and +Estelle sailed at once for China. + +Juliet's anxiety about her share of the estate somewhat modified her +grief in this instance. She had but slightly known her father; he had +been home but seldom, and for brief visits. He was an austere man, very +fine-looking, but silent and undemonstrative. She should not miss him so +much, still his death was such a shock--as she was fond of repeating to +her friends; she should never recover from the effects of two such +terrific shocks. + +So selfish in her grief was Juliet, nobody's sorrow had ever been like +unto her own. Whereas, had she only stopped to consider, had she been a +Christian instead of a heathen, a woman instead of a child, she would +have borne silently this affliction as a necessary dispensation of +Providence; she would have bowed her heart humbly before God, kissing +the hand that had chastened her, thankful that those nearer and dearer +had been left unto her. + +The two elder brothers-in-law in due time returned from their mission +with the doleful intelligence that the late Captain St. Leger had died +insolvent, so far as his foreign wealth was concerned. They swore in +open court, for Mr. Temple summoned them to appear and obliged them to +take oath, that they received not sufficient from the assets to defray +the expenses of their voyage. + +Of this Juliet was disposed to believe not a word. Her brothers-in-law +had ever been ill-disposed toward her because she married for love, and +looked down on Temple because he had industriously labored for his +wealth instead of having received it, like themselves, from dishonest or +thrifty grandfathers. She believed they had connived together to enrich +themselves at her expense. + +Here, then, was another ground for anxiety. She begged Mr. Temple to +institute legal proceedings, and have the matter thoroughly sifted. Mr. +Temple liked no man to believe he was to be tamely cheated, and was at +first disposed to accede to Juliet's suggestion. Upon farther +reflection, however, he thought it wiser to let the matter drop. Aside +from anxiety, the expenses would be great. His adversaries had taken +time by the forelock, and had taken care doubtless to cover up their +tracks. + +He was now independent; his business needed all his attention; he would +not risk the certain for the uncertain. He would look out for his share +yet unappropriated in the city, though Captain St. Leger, at his last +visit home, had given deed to Juliet of the house she since her marriage +had occupied. + +But the settlement of the St. Leger estate does not materially concern +us. It had the effect, however, of completely alienating Juliet from her +sisters. + +Leonora was still childless, though she had so far changed her +resolution as to have received two children into her house. She could +scarcely have done otherwise. It had been announced by letter from +Philip that a cargo of eleven children from his mission were about to +sail, and would reach New York at about a given time. Three of these +children were his, and he hoped his sisters would find places for them +in their families, and interest themselves in seeking good homes for the +remaining others. + +Philip wrote that expediency alone could have induced them to part with +the dear children. Their hearts were torn asunder, etc., etc. The +touching letter was read from the preacher's desk. There was not a dry +eye in the house, nor a heart that did not long to clasp the foreign +missionary waifs. The trouble was not in getting homes in sufficient +number for the children--there were not enough children for the homes +offered. It would be such a blessed privilege to have a missionary's +child in the house. The various Judson children that were scattered here +and there were perpetual curiosities. Their very presence was enough to +sanctify, dignify, and make illustrious any house wherein they might +dwell. + +There never occurred to Philip when he wrote, to the city preacher when +he read, nor to the congregation who listened to the pathetic story of +the "hearts torn asunder," an idea as to the incompatibility of +missionary life with raising a family of children; nor that each and +every missionary father had better have given his heart a decided wrench +in the beginning, by abstaining from marriage, than have been a victim +to perpetual domestic anxiety and have suffered such ever-recurring +wounds. + +At first Leonora had taken Philip's three children, although a +childless, wealthy couple had offered to adopt the eldest, a boy of nine +years. He was handsomer and finer looking than his two little sisters, +who were both quiet and pretty. Leonora thought she should have +something to be proud of in the boy, who was a St. Leger thoroughly, and +might readily enough be mistaken as her own son. + +She was not long, however, in discovering that she had taken more upon +herself than she could bear. This handsome nephew was the exact +counterpart of what his father had been at similar early age. Leonora +remembered well that Philip had been an imp of mischief, and that she +had suffered torments on his account. This young Marius--named for Mary +Selby in full--like his father before him, seemed to think his young +sisters made for no earthly purpose but for his amusement. If they were +out of his presence he was wretched; when with them he left them no +peace; he would fling at them paper darts, almost strangle them with an +impromptu lasso, demolish their playhouse, decapitate their dolls, and +do all the mischief his really inventive genius could suggest. + +Leonora knew how worse than vain would be all reasoning with such a +subject. The example of her brother was all she needed. She took him in +her carriage, and set him down, with his baggage, at the door of the +wealthy couple who had been so anxious to gain possession of him. She +was not surprised, two weeks later, to learn that he had been +transferred to the family of the Presbyterian clergyman, nor shortly +after to be informed that a collection had been taken up among the +wealthy members of the church for his education at a country school; to +this she was invited to contribute, which she did liberally. + +Captain St. Leger had given all his city property to his daughters, +leaving his only son unprovided for. + +As to Estelle, Mrs. Lang, she rejoices in five daughters, which, added +to her four sons, makes her family equal in number, if not in degree, to +that of Queen Victoria's. She has had a wing added to her already +extensive mansion, wherein she has had her children installed, with +their nurses at command, one being an aged lady, trusty and faithful. +Unlike Juliet, Estelle became wise enough to give over fretting and +borrowing trouble. She goes much into society, though less devoted to it +than her elder sister, but looks considerably to her household affairs, +and on the whole makes a tolerable wife and mother. She would be +religious perhaps if she knew how to be. But this she has never learned +at St. Mark's Church, and she knows not where else to go. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + +ST. MARK'S OR ST. PATRICK'S? + + +A few months later, and Juliet Temple, with her niece and children, +returned from St. Mark's, whither they had been for morning service. + +"I declare this is the last time I shall go out to church while this hot +weather continues," exclaimed Juliet, throwing herself upon the parlor +lounge, not having sufficient strength to mount the stairs. "I was a +dunce for going to-day," she continued, having panted awhile for breath, +and fanning herself with a feather fan; "there were but few out; almost +none at all of the fashionables. Let me see: there was Dr. Elfelt's pew +vacant, the Shreves' vacant, the Dunns', and the Quackenboss'; not one +of the Herricks, Messengers, nor Livingstons there; you'll not catch me +there again with only such a common crowd; it is high time Dr. Browne +shut up for the summer, though somebody said he wasn't going to shut up +this summer, there has been such a hue and cry in the papers about this +shutting up of churches; but he might as well, I can warn him, or he +will preach to empty pews; it beats all, and to-day was communion day, +too; I should have thought more would have turned out; but, I declare, +I thought I should smother when I went up to the rails; and, to cap all, +that old Mrs. Godfrey, who weighs at least three hundred, came and knelt +close by me, and just completely crushed all one side of my flounces; I +was provoked and indignant; this, added to the intense heat, was almost +insupportable; but here I am again, thank God. O, Althea, you look so +cool and comfortable; won't you come, please, and fan me a minute--untie +my hat, and take away my gloves and scarf, they are like so many +fire-coals. It is too bad to make a servant of you, dear, but that is +just the way, the girls stay so long at their Mass, as they call it; I +wouldn't have Catholic girls just for this very reason, that they insist +always upon going to Mass, only that I really can trust a good Catholic +girl better than anyone else. If a girl calls herself Catholic, but is +not particular about her religious duties, I am on the watch for her; +but a girl that insists upon going through thick and thin, heat and +cold, such a girl I trust in spite of me. Now, Johnny, bring me a glass +of ice-water, dear. And daughter, if you will just step up to my room +and bring my salts, you will be a darling. Dear me! shall I ever get +cool again? If you will just bring me that sofa pillow, but no, it will +be too hot. I wish I had a nice pillow from my own bed, the linen slips +would be so refreshing." + +Althea started to go for one, when her aunt pleased again to change her +mind. + +"On the whole, I think now I will be able to go up stairs, and you can +unlace my tight boots, they are just killing my poor feet, and I can +get into my wrapper; yes, that will be nice." + +And Juliet started briskly for her chamber. She met her daughter at the +foot of the stairs with the tiny cut-glass bottle. + +"You can bring it back; I have concluded to go up myself; and, Johnny, +that is right, my son, bring the waiter up stairs, where, if I am not +completely exhausted first, I will try to get comfortable." + +The stream of Juliet's talk ceased not to flow, while her niece, son, +and daughter flew hither and thither, as was dictated by her caprice. + +At length, in her snowy wrapper, she half reclined gracefully upon an +equally snowy lounge, which she had ordered drawn to the darkest corner +of the room. + +"Now, Johnny and Flora dear, you can go anywhere you please, until the +girls come and lunch is served. Althea will stay and fan me, and perhaps +I can sleep," said this selfish woman, languidly closing her eyes. + +She had done talking enough for any one member of a sociable; and +Althea, commendably preserving her patience, devoutly hoped the +poppy-god, of which she had lately been reading in her Virgil, would +shower well the eyelids of her Aunt. Vain hope! The uneasy tongue again +commenced: + +"I wonder how your uncle endures it! Every week-day at his counting +house--every Sunday twice at Mass, and then again at Vespers. It is all +of six months now since this very pious fit came over him. And strange +to say, I believe I brought it about myself. I never had given up the +notion of his coming around to be with me a High Churchman. He always +_was_ the most honest soul--the offer of thrones and kingdoms could +never induce him to tell a lie--but as to what he called his religious +duties, he had become very careless; I could easily coax him to stay +from Mass when I did not feel like dressing for St. Mark's, but about +six months ago, I think it was, I undertook to convert him to my way of +thinking, and to make him see how vain and wicked these Romish practices +were, when he astonished me by his earnest defence of them, and ever +since he is a perfect enthusiast; wouldn't stay from Mass if the house +was on fire, and if you would believe it, is actually insisting that the +children shall go with him whenever they don't go with me; next thing +will be to take them with him anyhow, and the idea of having Johnny and +Flora brought up to believe that it is a mortal sin to be absent from +Mass, even when the day is scalding hot, or piping cold! That is +downright tyranny. I would never endure it! It is well I was never +brought up a Catholic; they'd find a rebel in me, sure. All the priests, +and Bishops, and the Pope, and a hundred like him, couldn't oblige me to +go to church, if I was not a mind. And Althea, only think of it, your +uncle, good as he is, every month now goes on his knees to Father Duffy +and confesses his sins! That is too much. Your uncle, Althea, if I do +say it, who am his wife, is the best man in the world--the very best, +and the idea! Why, I believe it is the other way, and this priest, Mr. +Duffy, had better go on _his_ knees to my husband--he would have more to +say, I'll wager. John Temple is sensible upon everything else, but upon +the matter of his religion he has become childish and absurd. I believe +he would give me up and the children too, dearly as he loves them, +rather than his religion. There he is at last," she exclaimed eagerly, +as the hall door opened below, and a man's foot was heard ascending the +stairs. + +"O John! I am so glad you have come. You have almost been the death of +me though, you naughty man." + +"How so, Juliet?" + +"Why, did you not tell me when I objected to going to St. Mark's that if +I did not go and take the children you should take them with you?" + +"I did." + +"Well, of course, rather than to have them go to that Irish Church, I +made a martyr of myself and went with them to St. Mark's, but it is for +the last time this summer, I can promise you. Why, I have almost died +with the heat." + +"It is a very warm day, unusually warm for the season," was the only +response. + +"And is that _all_, John, that you have to say? You are _not_ going to +take the children hereafter to church with you, when it is impossible +for me to go with them to St. Mark's?" + +"That is what I told you, Juliet. I have thoroughly made up my mind, +and--" + +"O, don't tell me you have made up your mind," cried the lady +hysterically, who knew from a twelve years' experience that John +Temple's made-up mind was like an adamantine wall to all her feeble +missiles. + +"Juliet," he replied firmly, "I will no longer see our children growing +up without religious training. And this very day I have formed a new +resolution. Johnny and Flora are to go with me every morning to early +Mass. This is a subject which must be no longer neglected;" and here Mr. +Temple, having loosened his necktie, and donned dressing-gown and +slippers, took up the fan that Althea had dropped upon his entrance, and +seated himself by his wife. + +Juliet, as usual, betook herself to tears. But tears did not always +drown her tongue; certainly not upon this occasion. + +"I don't see how it is possible for a man, generally so kind and good, +to make himself so obstinate and disagreeable. You don't find me so +obstinate; do I not often yield to you, John Temple, I would like to +know?" + +"You look upon but one side, Juliet; we are man and wife; our religions +are different. I speak not of yours, I know only my own, and this, my +own religion, binds me to bring up my children in the fear and love of +God. You may, for some reasons, be attached to your religious service, +but the rules of your Church have no binding force upon you. For you it +is no sin to allow your children to attend Mass. Your Church claims to +be a branch of ours, admits ours to be the true Church of Christ, from +which it sprang. In attending Mass with me, your children are still +within the fold of the Church. With me it is different. I believe in +but one Church. All others so-called, however well-intentioned, have not +the banner of Christ, not unto them were given the promises of our +Divine Lord. For me it is a mortal sin to allow my children any longer +to remain in their present state. Johnny should have been already well +instructed, and ready for First Communion and Confirmation." + +"O, John! when you know I am so dreadfully opposed to it, how can you +insist upon having the dear children brought up in such a way. It will +ruin their prospects for life. Likely as not Johnny would become a cruel +priest, and our sweet little Flora would be dragged into a convent." + +"Don't be a fool, Juliet," said Mr. Temple, losing his patience, "who +talks about dragging people into convents? Not Catholics. Have you not +confidence in me, and will you not believe when I assure you I could not +ask a higher, nobler place for our children than that you so deprecate? +Thus far have I yielded to you in this matter. But, Juliet, who has made +me father and master in this house? Unto God shall I have to render my +account; and though I would spare your feelings, I must still be true to +my conscience." + +"As far as the religion itself goes, I don't care so much," responded +Juliet, attempting to dry her eyes with her handkerchief, already +saturated, "but what grieves me to the heart, what I cannot bear nor +tolerate is this association with the low and vulgar," the one idea +still uppermost in the weak woman's mind. + +"Juliet, are you never to have thoughts higher than those that pertain +to society and fashion? Do you never think the time is surely coming +when you must give up all these things to which you are attached, when +death must come to you, and a new life, and have you no care as to what +that life shall be?" + +The lady shivered and covered up her eyes. + +"Why do you talk thus to me? Do you not know that I have a perfect +horror of such things? O, John, the very thought of dying almost +distracts me. _Must_ we all die? How I wish we could live forever, and +never grow old! When we get very old, John, then, if I should be taken +sick, I want you to hold me strong by the hand that death may not take +me." + +"But, Juliet, if you should be taken sick before you are old?" + +"I have no fear, John, while you are with me, even though I be sick. Do +you not know, have you not learned, that I fear nothing when with you, +and have a good hold of your hand? In a thunder-shower I am so timid +without you, I think every bolt is to strike me; if you are near, but +you must be close, I have no fear. It seems nothing can harm me if you +are by. So, John, while I have you, I have no fear of death." + +Mr. Temple had dropped the fan, and Juliet's two little hands were +nestled in his strong, broad palms. He looked with tenderness into the +face upturned so trustfully to his. + +"But if I should die, Juliet, and you should not have me?" + +Juliet gave a piercing scream and threw herself into her husband's arms. +Was it for the first time such a thought had ever been presented to her +mind? Life without her husband! She could not conceive of it. It seemed +as if he had always been with her; as though he had become so much a +part of herself that she could not live without him. For, though she +wearied and annoyed him, teased, opposed, and vexed him, she loved him +beyond all things, even her children. Beneath all her vanity, folly, and +thoughtlessness throbbed one passion deepest of all, love for her +husband. + +"My poor little wife," said John Temple, when he could again speak, "I +am frail and human, but there is One mighty and eternal. I am weak and +erring, but there is One strong and infallible. Put your trust in One +worthier than I; lay your hand in His who shall lead you by the still +waters of peace; in His which shall never fail you, neither in life, +death, nor eternity." + + + + +CHAPTER XIX. + +"IN SUCH AN HOUR AS YE THINK NOT." + + +During the following week Juliet Temple was more serious than usual. She +often found herself wondering why her husband had spoken to her in such +mournful words. They haunted her the more she attempted to drive them +away; she could not even reflect with indignation upon his avowed +purpose as regarded the children. His solemn tones and manner had taken +the sting from his unwelcome resolutions. + +Once she referred to the subject: + +"Your sermon of last Sunday has sunk deep in my heart. It is the only +sermon that has ever done me any good--or harm," she added. + +"I did not intend to trouble you; but you know I would like to see you +more thoughtful." + +Had John Temple taken this course long ago with his wife, she would have +become perhaps a wiser, better woman. But he loved peace and quiet; and +he probably thought also that no serious words from him could make +impression upon her preoccupied, impervious mind. + +John Temple was true to his word. For several mornings his children +were kneeling by his side at Mass, ere their mother had awakened from +her slumbers. He himself heard their daily lessons in Catechism. + +When Saturday came around Juliet began to think about the children going +to St. Patrick's next day. She was so surprised at herself for having +acquiesced so readily. True, she knew it was no use to combat her +husband upon the point, but she might not have appeared to him to yield +so easily. Instead, however, of any disposition to disapprove, she began +to think how it would be were she to go herself. Pshaw! Where was all +her pride, that she should begin to think of going to church with her +Jim, Bridget, and Ann? But somehow, for the first time, she did not like +to think of her husband going without her. He had spoken so solemnly of +the possibility of his some time leaving her! Hereafter she should feel +as if he must not go out of her sight. She put away her embroidery for +her crochet. In turn, her crochet was tedious, and dropping it, she took +up a book which her husband had been reading at leisure moments the last +day or two. + +The book she had never before observed. It was "The Following of +Christ." She opened where was his mark; and this mark was, for this +time, a tiny rose she had handed him that very morning. She pressed to +her lips the rose, which was yet fragrant, though faded. She commenced +to sing carelessly: + + "Ye may break, ye may ruin the vase if ye will, + But the scent of the roses will hang round it still," + +when the heading of the Chapter, which the rose had marked, caught her +eye, "Of the thoughts of death." + +"A very little while and all will be over with thee here. See to it, how +it stands with thee in the next life. Man to-day is, and to-morrow he is +seen no more. If thou art not prepared to-day, how wilt thou be +to-morrow? + +"To-morrow is an uncertain day, and how knowest thou if thou shalt have +to-morrow?" + +"No wonder his mind is sober and solemn, with such reading as this," +mused Juliet, but she continued. + +Fire bells commenced to ring. Was this so uncommon an occurrence as to +cause Juliet to drop her book and press her hand to her heart? + +"What does it mean? I am so fearfully nervous. It is not our house that +is on fire." + +She walked to a window; ah, the fire was near, but a few squares +distant; the slight wind, however, would bear it in an opposite +direction. There was no occasion for fear. Juliet took up her book +again, and read a few pages. She was reading these passages a second +time, and with something like a thrill of awe, for they seemed to be +spoken to herself: + +"Be therefore always in readiness, and so live that death may never find +thee unprepared. + +"Many die suddenly and unprovidedly; for the Son of Man will come at the +hour when He is not looked for. + +"When that last hour shall have come, then thou wilt begin to think far +otherwise of all thy past life; and great will be thy grief that thou +hast been so neglectful and remiss." + +The door-bell rang violently. Juliet made an effort to rise from her +chair, but sank back weak as an infant. Her face turned deadly pale, and +she clenched the closed book in her pallid hands. + +There was a confused sound in the room below; the tread of men and +subdued voices. Suddenly, above these, she caught a groan. This broke +the spell; she flew rather than walked to the small parlor so strangely +occupied. + +A knot of men separated slightly as she drew near. O God of Heaven, was +that her husband? John Temple, who went out a few hours ago brave and +strong, in the full vigor of beautiful manhood, blighted, disfigured, +burned in the fiery furnace? + +"My child, my child," had a frantic woman screamed as she was borne down +a ladder in the powerful arms of a fireman. + +"My child," she still cried from the ground, her eyes upraised to the +window of flame, her hands clasped in pleading agony. Eager eyes looked +upward, but even brave hearts hesitated to rush into the sea of flame. + +It was madness, but John Temple ventured. They would have held him back, +but in that supreme moment of supernatural exaltation of courage he was +strong as well as bold. As he would others should do for him so would he +do for them. It was the thought of his wife and children that nerved him +to such heroic, desperate effort, and alas, so unavailing! + +Streams of water had darkened the fiery mass, and hope began to whisper +to the eager crowd. + +Yes, John Temple stepped out upon the slippery, blackened ladder, +grasping the inanimate form of a little child. Loud cheers rent the air. +But they pierced the hearts of those who bent over the senseless forms +of the deliverer and the child. Most of their clothing, their hair, and +eyebrows were burned, they were fearfully scarred, and worse than all +they had breathed the flames! Physicians were on the ground, prompt +assistance was rendered, and John Temple again drew breath. With the +child there was a moan, a gasp, and all was over. + +This was the result of a kerosene explosion. So instant had been the +ignition of everything combustible that nearly the whole interior was in +flames before assistance could arrive. Stout engines played but upon +useless debris, and saved only unsightly walls. + +Some friend of John Temple had run for the priest, and by the time he +was laid in his own house Father Duffy too had arrived. The sufferer had +become sensible, but could not speak. He was evidently in fearful agony. + +Three physicians looked at each other and shook their heads. They had +the wife to care for now, who, with piercing shrieks, fell insensible at +their feet. + +"Will you leave me alone with him a moment," said the priest, and the +others withdrew, bearing away the stricken woman. + +It was but for a few moments indeed. The dying man could only make +signals in answer to questions, and received the _Viaticum_ with eyes +raised in thankfulness. The physicians had not been able to get him to +swallow, but this blessed bread of life, this comforter by the way, +this solace and support through the dark valley, nature nor suffering +did refuse. It was pitiful to see him attempt to fold in reverence his +inflamed and swollen hands, and to make, as his last expiring effort, +the beloved sign of our holy religion. + +To John Temple death had come suddenly indeed, but not unprovidedly. He +had been moved, no doubt by heavenly inspiration, to make a general +confession only the Sunday previously. And Father Duffy had reason to +believe it had been made with that care, diligence, and fullness as if +he had known it to have been his last. We have seen what an impression +had been made upon his mind in his interview with his wife. + +Upon recovering consciousness, Juliet demanded to be admitted to her +husband. Disguises and delays she would not brook, and they led her +back. Her children were now there, and Althea, and further back the +servants. These latter were upon their knees, with the priest, saying +prayers for the dead. + +Let us here draw a veil. We have been disgusted with Juliet, out of all +patience with her levity and unwomanliness, but we sympathize in her +unutterable grief. Hard must be the heart unmoved by those wildest +moans, those saddest plaints. + +"Do not weep," said Dr. Browne to her after the funeral, "it is vain, +worse than vain." + +"Only tears are left me," she half-uttered. + +"Your children!" + +"They only speak to me of him." + +"But yourself; for your own sake do not thus yield to immoderate +grief." + +"I tell you, Dr. Browne, my heart shall dash itself against this sorrow +till it break--break!" she exclaimed wildly. + +"But this is not Christian submission." + +"I am not a Christian, Dr. Browne; you cannot expect from me submission. +Do you expect grapes from thorns?" + +"Not a Christian, Mrs. Temple?" + +"You know I am not a Christian, Dr. Browne! I have never known but one +Christian in my life, and that was John Temple." + +Dr. Browne felt somewhat scandalized. A member of his church to say +boldly she had never known but one Christian, and that Christian a Roman +Catholic; was it not incomprehensible? But then Mrs. Temple was not now +in her usual mind. Due allowance must be made, and he would seek a more +favorable opportunity for renewing the subject. He arose to leave. + +"What shall I do, Dr. Browne? I cannot bear day nor night; life is a +torture; I cannot bear life, nor can I endure to think of death. O, help +me, Dr. Browne." + +"Only God can help you, Mrs. Temple, and I pray that His grace may be +sufficient for you." + +"But you forget that I have no God." + +"Mrs. Temple, you are beside yourself. No God?" + +"No! He is afar off, or I am shut out from Him. I have never known Him. +I cannot pray to Him." + +"When you shall be more collected I will call again. Meantime, you will +find much comfort in our Book of Common Prayer. Have recourse to it and +to the throne of grace." + +Juliet abandoned herself as much to remorse as to grief. + +She had had the best of husbands; she had been to him the worst of +wives. As in a mirror, she saw all her past life. She remembered how +fretful and fault-finding she had been; how difficult to please, how +unlovely she had made herself. If John could come back, only just long +enough for her to tell him how very, very sorry she was, how much she +loved and respected him, how he had always done everything right, and +she had been ever in the wrong; but he could not come even for that. She +collected around her the various articles he had used; among others, his +rosary, crucifix and prayer-book. How careful he had been to keep them +hidden away, where they might not offend her eye, or provoke her +ridicule and sneer. She read every day, in the "Following of Christ," +the chapter John had last read, which the faded rose still marked. + +In this was a kind of comfort, but there was peace nor rest in aught +else. She walked the floor distractedly, and wrung her hands and tore +her garments. She shut herself up in the darkness, and stretched forth +her hands and prayed the spirit of John to come back to her in pity. She +would not admit her sisters; her children she allowed to grieve alone. + +Suddenly, came back to her the memory of a look of pity and compassion, +which she had forgotten. When she had returned, on that memorable day, +to her husband, who had just breathed his last, as she raised her eyes, +scarcely daring to let them fall upon the dear face, she encountered the +gaze of Father Duffy. He had, unconsciously, looked upon this bereaved +woman, whom he knew to be without the fold, therefore, without suitable +consolation for this trying moment, as our dear Lord may be supposed to +have looked upon Mary and Martha, when they informed Him that Lazarus, +their brother, was dead. + +The remembrance of this compassionate look softened Juliet's heart +toward the priest. For the first time in her life, she began to think he +might be something beside an impersonation of evil. To John he had been +a father and a friend; might not she have confidence in one he had so +loved and trusted? + +She began to wish he would call. She wondered he did not, if but to see +after the children. He must be aware of John's recent action in regard +to them, perhaps may have counselled the same. The more she thought of +this, the stronger, by degrees, became her desire to see and consult +him. + +Juliet was what might be termed a "person of one idea." Not that her +ideas never changed--she was very versatile; but she was animated wholly +by one idea at a time, to the exclusion of all others. Two weeks ago, +the Catholic Irish priest was the last person she would have thought of +with desire to see. Now, of all people in the world, it was from Father +Duffy she would seek counsel. + +She rang her bell, and when Ann appeared, thus addressed her: + +"You may do my hair, Ann; I have changed my mind; I thought I would +never have it touched again by comb or brush, but I will. You need not +be particular; only get the tangles out and let it hang; you can find a +black ribbon somewhere. I don't care any more how I look, besides, I am +only going to see your priest, Mr. Duffy. He must be used to seeing +people in all sorts of rigs. It would be different if I were to meet Dr. +Browne. I would dress for him as for a king, once; but not now! I never +shall care again how I look; poor John cannot see me." + +Sobs and tears choked further utterance. Ann gave a quick start, when +her mistress mentioned the priest's name. She could hardly believe she +had heard aright. She was used to almost every caprice from Mrs. Temple, +but this last transcended every other. What did it portend? + +Mrs. Lang, who was about the size and height of Mrs. Temple, had kindly +taken upon herself the care of procuring her sister's mourning. Having +submitted to all the troubles and inconveniences, she had, but the day +before, sent home several dresses. She would herself have accompanied +them, had she not repeatedly been refused admittance to her sister. +Juliet's hair being finished, she ordered Ann to undo the small mountain +of mourning goods, and select the plainest garment. And, after all, it +was with much hesitation, and continued wringing of hands, and moans and +lamentations, that she allowed herself to be arrayed in these insignias +of her widowhood. She more than once gave up her purpose, only as often +to resume it. + + + + +CHAPTER XX. + +JULIET. + + +Ann, having completed her mistress' unusual and oft-resisted toilet, +received with surprise a message to convey to Father Duffy. She glanced +at Mrs. Temple, to discover if she were really in her right mind. Upon +this point she could not satisfy herself, for Juliet had buried her +flushed face in the fresh handkerchief she had just given her, and added +but the words: "go at once!" + +Father Duffy, but little past the prime of life, was in the full vigor +of energy and usefulness. A worker himself, he infused others with his +spirit; droneishness wilted under the scorching rays of his perpetual +activity, as weeds wither in the noon-day sun. He had accomplished +wonders in his parish, and many another, less efficient than himself, +might have supposed nothing more was to be done. Not so, thought Father +Duffy. Literally and figuratively hills were to be brought down, and +level places to be made smooth. + +By precept, and still more by example, he taught his people to bear +their burdens heroically, their prosperity with humility, their +adversity with pious resignation. He had little patience with +indecision, still less with querulousness and complaints. With those of +his class, he believed that one's "first fruits" should be given unto +God. One's best emotions, fullest love, highest loyalty, precious +treasure. He had no faith in the piety of him, who, living in a costly +dwelling, proposed to worship God in a habitation mean and contemptible; +nor in that of her, who, clad in a thousand-dollar shawl, would drop a +five-cent upon the plate of charity. + +He was as quick to perceive, as was his will to act, or his hand to do. +He saw at once through all sham and artifice. He could be almost said to +perceive what was passing through one's mind, so quick was his +discernment, so penetrating his thought. He might have been a Jesuit, +nor fallen a whit behind the most polished and profound of that +marvellous society of men. + +Poor Juliet! To have sent for such a man, whose one glance could dissect +her thoroughly! But, let us wait; maybe we shall have no occasion to +repeat the epithet just applied to her name. + +Juliet little understood, indeed, was incapable of comprehending the +nature of the man whom she had invoked into her presence. Otherwise, she +would never have sent for him. She had bestowed no particular thought +upon him, anyhow; but he shared involuntarily in that measure of +contempt, which she ever had cherished for Roman Catholics in general. +She was not one bit in awe of him, nor felt less hesitation in +addressing him, than she would have done in speaking to a merchant's +clerk. + +"I wish to see you, Mr. Duffy," she said, upon entering the little +parlor, where she had met him the one time previously. The memory of +that day, scarcely ten ago, came over her with such sudden distinctness, +that she sank to the floor, beside the sofa upon which she had been +about to seat herself, and groaned aloud. + +"I fear you yield too immoderately to grief," said the priest. + +"I can never mourn enough for John Temple," said the widow, +disconsolately. + +"Mr. Temple was a worthy man. We have all lost in his death; but we must +not forget that he has gained." + +"I forget everything but that I am wretched--the most wretched creature +in existence. I hate equally the light of day and the darkness of night. +I would take my own life, only that I have such a horror of death." + +If the priest felt horror at her expressions, he did not evince it; but +he said firmly: + +"It is very wrong for you, Mrs. Temple, to speak thus. God does not +afflict His children willingly, nor--" + +"I am no child of God," broke in the unhappy woman, hiding her face in +the crimson velvet of the lounge, against which she leaned, for she +still retained her position upon the floor, in utter disregard of +conventionalities. + +"Though you may not acknowledge God, He is none the less your Lord and +Master. Your will opposed to His is as smoking flax. He has seen fit +sorely to afflict you, and you are utterly powerless. But, God does +everything in wisdom. He has chastened you for your good, if you will +but make a wise improvement of this dispensation." + +"You talk as if you think I am a Christian. But, I tell you I am not, +and never was. I know nothing about God. I have never cared anything +about Him. I have lived without Him, and as though He did not exist. +But, I am left alone now. I have nobody in Heaven or on earth. I am +afraid--as if I were on water, and about to sink, or, as if the heavens +were to fall and crush me." + +"Yet God is near you. You have but to stretch forth your hand, and He +will support you. Give Him your heart, and He will be a present help in +time of trouble." + +"But, I cannot find Him! And see, you do not tell me truly; for I put +forth my hand, and it falls back wearily. I know--I do not expect to see +God as I see a person; but they tell about Faith that is as good as +sight; if I could only have that!" + +"Are you willing to make sacrifices for that faith--what would you do, +what give?" willing to test her sincerity. + +"Do! give! I would sit in sackcloth and ashes! Behold me upon the floor: +I would even sink beneath it, I would walk upon coals of fire, tread +upon thorns, seek rest upon a rack of torture! And give? O, have I not +been robbed of my all? I have nothing left to give!" and Juliet's voice +died out in a mournful wail. + +"But all this would not bring you to God, unless you yield to Him your +heart." + +"I have no heart; it is in the grave with my husband." + +"Mrs. Temple, you will never find God while you cherish this spirit of +selfish grief. Submission to His will is your first duty. Were you a +Catholic, I could instruct you. I know not how to conduct a Protestant +to God, unless I lead her in Catholic ways. Are you prepared to be so +led? Or, madam, why did you send for me?" + +Juliet hesitated. + +"I hardly know," at length, "I wished for somebody who had been dear to +John. He loved you more than all the world beside, except us, of course. +He was so satisfied with his religion; his faith was so clear and full; +he lived such a good life; and he used to say he owed so much to you. I +thought if you could teach me as you had done him, if I could become +good as he was, that I would learn of you, if you would take the +trouble, even though you were a Catholic priest." + +"You do not wish then to become a Catholic, really?" + +"No; I do not. I wish to find God; or, to have such faith in Him, that I +may believe as if I saw Him. Can you help me to that?" + +"I can," replied the priest. "God has appointed me to bring souls to +Him. He has appointed the way also, and I cannot go out of that way. I +warn you, therefore, in the beginning, that while conducting you to the +Heavenly City, I am not seeking to make of you simply a Catholic, but +the convictions of your mind and the fervor of your heart will be of +the very spirit of Catholicity. Are you still willing to persevere?" + +"I am. I have no fears of becoming a Catholic. I can judge for myself. I +can never believe in the divinity of Mary; nor in the worship of the +saints and the adoration of their relics; nor in transubstantiation and +miracles, and all those things; but you know what I want--and will you +help me for John's sake?" + +"And for your own. But you must have confidence in me. And first, you +must cease to believe that Catholics regard Mary, the Blessed Mother, as +a divine person; second, that they worship saints or their relics, and +many another fallacy under which you labor. You must be willing to read +and study, withdrawing your mind as much as possible from your +bereavement, and giving certain time to the care of your children. In +these matters you must be obedient, or I can promise no good result. Are +you still resolved?" + +"It is my last hope," thought Juliet, disheartened for a moment, and she +bowed her head. + +"You are sure you can help me," said Juliet, imploringly, as would say +one sick to the physician, in whom were placed all her hopes of life. + +"And behold I am with you even to the consummation of the world" passed +through the priest's mind, and he answered, confidently: "Very sure, +Mrs. Temple." + +The friends of Juliet marvelled greatly, when it became known to them +that she had sent for the Catholic priest, and was actually seeking to +learn the religion of her late husband. For they looked at the matter in +its true light, and smiled at her simplicity, in believing she could be +instructed in Protestantism by any "Romish priest," how good so ever he +might chance to be. Against her own inclination, but from the advice of +her new friend, she occasionally received her sisters and a few former +acquaintances. They went away commiserating her condition, as being +semi-imbecile, semi-lunatic. + +"She will get over this, go in society, and marry again," they +prophesied. They were not the first false prophets who have arisen. + +A year later, when Juliet Temple was baptized into the Catholic Church, +these same people said: + +"_They_ will get her into a convent, next, where she will awaken to a +sense of her folly." Another false prophecy, for Juliet did not enter a +convent, though she had serious thoughts of doing so. Though she became +not a Sister of Charity, in fact, she did in deed, and atoned in after +years for the frivolousness of her early life, by patient self-denials +and well-directed benevolence. + +In the matter of Juliet's conversion, Father Duffy, as in every thing +else, had done his work well. The widow of John Temple was no half-way +Christian. She had put forth her hand in the way directed, and God had +lifted her into the light. With her feet upon the rock of ages, she no +more trembled under the impression of sinking beneath slippery waters. + +She was not ashamed to be seen by her former fashionable friends +wending her way to St. Patrick's. When she knelt at the altar to receive +the bread of life, she became not "indignant" that any humble Bridget +knelt by her side; for, dearer to her the most lowly person who now had +received the waters of Baptism than any lady who rode in her carriage. +Through the priest, it was God's work and marvellous unto all eyes. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI. + +"THE SPIDER AND THE FLY." + + +Both Leonora and Estelle wrote to their distant brother of the danger of +his daughter. She was under the sole care of one who was fast becoming +bewitched with the superstitions of Catholicism. + +Startled and bewildered, Philip St. Leger wrote at once for his +daughter's removal from the house of Juliet. During the few months +remaining of her school-life, she should divide her time at the houses +of her elder aunts. After that, she should take up her abode with her +uncle, Duncan Lisle, at Kennons. This latter arrangement, which had been +always understood, seemed now to all parties doubly desirable. She would +be removed even from the city where Juliet Temple lived. For, of course, +Juliet, like all converts, would not rest until she had made proselytes +of all who should come within her influence. She had been much attached +to her niece, and that niece was known to have had great affection and +respect for her late uncle, who had been to her a father. Truly, great +danger was to be avoided, and soon as possible. Althea was removed to +her Aunt Leonora's, and forbidden to enter Juliet's house without +permission, and accompanied. + +Althea was now nearly sixteen; she had emerged from the somewhat +unpromising age, and had developed into remarkable beauty. Distinguished +as were all the St. Legers for fine personal appearance, none had ever +equalled this child of Della, given to God with that mother's expiring +breath. + +With the beauty of her father, she possessed the winning gracefulness of +her mother, with the best mental and moral qualities of both. As a +scholar, she excelled in all her classes; she had a real genius for +music, poetry, and painting. With trifling effort she could execute most +difficult pieces upon piano and harp. + +"You have the hand of a master," spake Signor Lanza proudly, to this his +favorite pupil. + +"Il improvisatrice," was she styled by her admiring associates, whom she +amused by the hour with her extemporary effusions of rhyme. + +From all, you would have taken her to be from that land + + "Where the poet's lip and painter's hand + Are most divine. Where earth and sky + Are picture both and poetry; + Of Italy--" + +A Madame de Stael would have immortalized her as another Corrinne. + +_Heu, me miserum!_ Where shall we find goose-quill cruel and grey enough +to write her down wife of Jude Thornton Rush? + +"There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of +in your philosophy." + +Have you forgotten, dear reader, that September night after Ellice's +funeral? How Duncan Lisle sat alone with Hubert, his child, before the +bright fire, while the rain pattered against the pane, and the memory of +the widowed man broke up into such a shower of reminiscences as almost, +for the moment, to drown the fire of his grief? Do you remember that +Philip St. Leger, returned from the East, came abruptly upon the scene, +telling of Della's death, and the little child left at the North? Well, +was it not natural for us to think that Hubert and Althea, children of +Della and Ellice, the "Pythias and Damon" friends, should grow up and +love each other, and marry at last, as they do in novels? + +Yes, that was our pet scheme, indulged in to the last. But we are +compelled to admit with the poet, that "best laid plans go oft astray." +We are also compelled to think half wickedly with Amy--what pity it was +Jude Rush fell down a precipice breaking his neck, thus giving his wife +liberty to capture her own good master--and what pity it was too that +Jude Thornton Rush did _not_ fall down some precipice and did _not_ +break his neck before, spider-like, he had woven his fine web, and said +softly to Della's daughter: + +"Will you walk into my parlor?" + +For, something like a spider was Thornton Rush. He was quite tall and +too slender. His body was out of proportion to his long limbs, and his +hands and feet had the remarkable faculty of protruding too far from +every garment, even those the tailor declared should be long enough +_this_ time. The "ninth part of a man" would seize the sleeve at the +wrist with both hands, give a good jerk and an emphatic _there_! But +when Thornton Rush was ordered to lift his arm naturally, the wrist +protruded like a turtle's neck. + +"He must be made of gutta percha," soliloquized the discomfited tailor, +giving him up as an incorrigible _non-fit_. + +The rather stooping shoulders and long neck supported a splendid head +for Thornton Rush. This was indeed his crowning attraction. Short silken +curls of raven black clustered around it, shading a wide white forehead +and delicately fashioned ear. He had a beautifully arched brow, heavily +pencilled, within which a glittering black eye, too deep set, gleamed +forth with unaccountable attraction. His nose was straight, small, but +full of nerve. You would never guess from that handsome, firm-set mouth +of his, where decision and resolution played about the cherry lips and +dimpled chin, that he would have proved the coward and run from duty and +from danger. No; but then Thornton Rush was made up of contradictions. + +His mental and moral, like his physical organization, was full of +angularities, discrepancies, and unharmonious combinations. + +He could be gentle as the dove, but fierce as the tiger; kind and +confiding as any child, but cruel and deceitful as Lucifer transformed. + +So opposite qualities are seldom found combined. + +The most brave men are often the most gentle; the most trustful are +frank and open-hearted. To parody Byron's eulogy on "The wondrous +three," + + Nature has formed but one such--hush! + She broke the die in moulding Thornton Rush. + +What do you say? Althea and Thornton married and not one word about the +courtship, that most interesting of all portions of a love-history! + +It was the tragedy of "the spider and the fly" enacted over again. We +would but shudder to watch that wicked, sly, patient tarantula, coaxing, +flattering, urging the poor little fly, whose bright wings are singed +with his hot breath, and whose wonderful eyes are held fast by the +fascination of his scintillant, unrelenting gaze. + +It is to be hoped, dear reader, that you are not of that kind who love +to gloat over horrors. If you are, you must turn to some modern journal +of civilization which is able to satisfy you completely. But Althea and +Thornton are not married yet, they are only going to be. + +After the lapse of a quarter of a century Duncan Lisle, for the second +time, attended commencement exercises at Troy Female Seminary. +Twenty-five years is but a dot upon Time's voluminous scroll, yet in +that brief space has been crowded infinite change. Madame X---- having +retired from the school of education and from the stage of life, has +been succeeded first by Madame Y----, and again by Mademoiselle de +V----. More than half the young ladies who had graduated with Della and +Ellice, who had looked like angels in simple white and blue, had lain +down the burthens of life, and were sleeping peacefully here and there. + +Duncan Lisle had not, for four years, seen his niece, and was not +prepared for such startling developments of mind and person. He was +proud to behold her queen of the school; queen, both in beauty and +mental accomplishments. He too might be forgiven for one daring thought +that soared down to matchmaking. It was not very strange that, +remembering his earliest wife and only sister, and thinking of his one +beloved child, the thought should cross him of the beauty and fitness of +a union between Hubert and Althea. "I will send Althea's picture across +the ocean to Hubert; I will write him to return home immediately," was +the conclusion of this good father. All parents have such pet schemes, +to greater or less extent. + +The health of the master of Kennons had been for some time delicate. His +journey North, undertaken partially for his own benefit as well as to +accompany his niece to his home, proved rather injurious than otherwise. +The excessively hot weather prevailing rendered the trip anything but +agreeable, and he returned to Kennons much exhausted and debilitated. + +He lost no time in carrying out his resolution with regard to his son. +He wrote him a letter full of the praises of Althea, assuring him that +the picture enclosed failed in justice to the original. He also spoke of +his own failing health and his great and increasing desire to behold him +again. Hubert Lisle never received this letter; it never left the office +at Flat Rock; indeed it was destroyed at Kennons. + +Thornton Rush had returned from Europe at the close of the war. Instead, +however, of returning to Virginia, he had put up his shingle as a lawyer +in one of the new States of the growing West. He had not forgiven his +mother that she had allowed his several letters to go unanswered. + +Two years had he now been at Windsor, among the wilds and roughnesses of +a new country; still had his mother for him no word of congratulation, +encouragement, or even recognition. + +When Rusha Lisle read her husband's intercepted letter, thereby +discovering his designs as to the hand of Althea, a new thought struck +her. + +It will be remembered that she took special delight in rendering others +uncomfortable, and in setting up an opposition to everybody's plans. +Against Hubert she had entertained a perpetual ill-feeling. Was he not +the child of her rival? Should he win for bride this sweet child of +sixteen, whose transcendent loveliness made an impression even upon her +own unsusceptible heart? + +Had she not surreptitiously gained access to her husband's last will and +testament, wherein he had made his sister's child co-heiress with Hubert +to all his estate? + +What could be expected of Rusha Lisle but instant action to the +following effect: First, to break her long silence to her son by +enclosing him the picture designed for Hubert, and cordially inviting +him to make her a visit at Kennons, where he would find the beautiful +original. + +Mrs. Lisle kept her own counsel, never intimating a wish or expectation +of her son's return. Her surprise upon his arrival was well +counterfeited; nor was it ever known beyond mother and son that the +latter had not been first to make the overture. But this son, in some +respects so like his mother, might have evinced less disposition to do +at once her bidding had not the inducements held forth been +all-sufficient. + +Thornton Rush was not a lady's man. Byron was made miserable on account +of the deformity of his foot. So our less distinguished but equally +sensitive hero had always the impression that his long wrists and ankles +were subjects of ridicule. He believed the ladies did not fancy him; he +therefore made no efforts to propitiate their favor. If they happened to +laugh in his presence--and the foolish things are always happening to +laugh--he made sure it was at himself; and he shot at them most vengeful +flashes from his cavernous orbs, which annihilated them not at all, but +rendered them more risible. + +"But there is a tide in the affairs of men." + +"There is a hand that shapes our ends, rough-hew them as we will." + +The inanimate picture at which Thornton Rush gazed did not laugh at him. +On the contrary, it looked up to him with such a sweet confiding +trust--O, there was something in that face he had seen in none other. It +wonderfully attracted him. Even had it not, he would have made every +effort to win Althea's heart just the same; and for the very reasons +that had instigated his mother. He hated Hubert Lisle. To thwart him he +would have circumvented heaven and earth. With Thornton Rush this +consideration weighed even more than Althea's promised dowry. + +Spite, revenge, avarice, every worst passion should be gratified in the +accomplishment of a union with Althea. + +Unfortunately, the situation of things at Kennons favored this wretched +wooing. Duncan Lisle was failing rapidly, and had become confined to his +room. Above all others, he loved Althea to be with him; but he knew, and +upon this his wife enlarged, that she should be allowed considerable +recreation. + +When, therefore, Rusha Lisle came in to take the niece's place, +insisting upon the latter taking a ride or drive, her uncle would join +in the request, and Althea was compelled to go. Nor was it such a +hardship. Thornton was ever ready to accompany her. And now, in presence +of this guileless girl, he did, indeed, seem transformed. He was +attentive, kind and gentle, he hastened to comply with her every wish, +to anticipate all. + +For the first time in his life, he put a curb upon his violent temper. +He became kind, even to his horse and his dog--when in _her_ presence. +Discovering her taste for poetry, he sat up nights to commit to memory +whole pages of her favorite Scott and Moore, Bryant and Longfellow, +which he would repeat to her with exceeding force and appropriateness. + +Thornton's voice was as contradictory as the rest. It could be soft or +harsh, musical or discordant. To Althea it was only pleasant and gentle; +and, by degrees, came to possess for her a wonderful charm. + +Mrs. Lisle, so disagreeable to all others, had practiced remarkable +effort and self-control in making herself agreeable to this young girl, +whom she would fain help to draw within her son's meshes. + +Mr. Lisle's first letter to his son, to which we have referred, was not +his last. But every missive, more earnest than the former, met with the +fate of the first. Every day he waited anxiously for the coming of the +mail. It seemed all that interested him. It was pitiful to see his daily +disappointments, the dying out of every renewed hope. + +This constant alternation of hope and despair, with constant suspense, +shortened his days. + +He died suddenly at the last, his expiring gaze upon the portrait of +Ellice that, as of old, still hung over the mantle. + +Did Mrs. Lisle, in presence of death itself, experience no scruple in +having kept the son from his dying father? Would she ever feel remorse +of conscience in this world, or in the next? At all events, she +expedited in every possible manner the wooing and winning of Althea. Was +there in Heaven no guardian angel for this motherless child? Was not her +very name suggestive of protection from above? Had Della's last prayer +on earth failed to reach the throne of Grace and Mercy? + +No obstacle appeared in the way, after the only one was removed by +death. Thornton began to talk about a return to his northwestern home. +His business would still further suffer by a more protracted stay. +Already he had been informed of the _debut_ of a rival, one Capt. +Sharp, upon his own field of law and politics. A Captain for four years +in the Union army--what a claim irresistible would that be upon the good +will and votes of the people! What a tempting bait for the Republican +leaders to throw out to the multitude of small fish! + +But how could he go back alone, after having lived two months in the +light of Althea's presence? So he pleaded his suit to the gentle girl, +veiling still more his fierce claws with the velvet glove, realizing +Shakspeare's + + One may smile and smile, and be a villain. + +Thornton Rush won his bride, and carried back to his northern home the +young girl whose grace and beauty dazzled every eye. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII. + +ALTHEA. + + +Several years have passed. We find Althea a matron of twenty or more, +but did we not know her age, we might think her five years older. She +has not lost her beauty; though it is of a softer, more pensive kind. +She is a gentle, quiet woman, beloved by the people of Windsor, for she +makes no pretensions, and they have no shadow of suspicion that she +deems herself their superior. But it is a never-ceasing wonder to the +good and discerning that she ever came to marry Thornton Rush. + +Thornton Rush is a man of mark. He has his friends and his foes. To +those whom he deems worthy of conciliating, will he fawn and cringe. +Those whom he despairs of making his friends, or those whose friendship +may do him no good, he alienates determinedly, and without scruple. + +For four years has he waged a perpetual warfare with the Captain. The +odds would have been against him, had he not in his wife possessed one +advantage. While Mrs. Sharp possessed by nature the qualities expressed +by her name and made herself unpopular to the good women of Windsor, +Althea, without premeditation or effort, was a universal favorite. +Thornton Rush was well aware of this advantage, and he made the most of +it. + +Like many another man, he did not like to come home and find his wife +gone. He missed her as he would the sun from day. Althea was much +inclined to remain at home; and Thornton would not often have found +chance to grumble upon this score. He was not given to habits of +self-denial; nevertheless, to secure good will and triumph over Sharp, +he would encourage Althea to make frequent visits--nay, often insist +upon it, against her inclination and his own private wish. If his wife +could serve his policy, well and good. What was a wife for? + +There were those who regarded Thornton Rush with positive fear. They +quailed beneath the flash of his eye. Such dared not openly oppose him +and were outwardly his friends. Some, lacking powers of penetration, +deemed him better than he was, and thought there must be much hidden +good in one who had won so sweet a woman for a wife. Few dared exhibit, +or openly proclaim the intense disaffection with which he had inspired +them. But those who did were bitter and unrelenting in animosity; were +enemies indeed, worthy of the name. Foremost among these was Carlton +Sharp. This Captain still led a company well drilled and faithful. On +the other side, Thornton Rush, since about it was no smell of gunpowder, +trained a goodly crew, with which he met the Captain's line. Victory was +not always upon one side. Politics is a very uncertain _res gestoe_. +And human nature, more uncertain still, would vacillate from +wing to wing, now being a Sharp's retainer, and anon a hanger-on of +Rush. Such changelings would not count, but that their vote weighs +heavily. + +Mrs. Lisle had already made one visit to her son, which lasted several +months. During this visit Althea's eyes had been opened, and she had +been led to wonder, as before in the case of her husband, for what +purpose had been assumed the false garb of amiability during the time of +her sojourn at Kennons. Both Mrs. Lisle and that strange woman's son +were mysteries to Althea. To her mind of singular clearness and purity +they were incomprehensible. Their falseness and hardness she was more +ready to believe hallucinations of her own mind, rather than really +glaring faults of character in them. Hence she strove to force herself +to believe them better than they were. But this could not last--and at +length the young wife was driven to the sad conclusion that her +mother-in-law was not only harsh, unamiable, and unforgiving, but +destitute of moral and religious principle, and that the man she had +married was worthy such ignoble parentage. + +Did Althea then learn to regard her husband with scorn and contempt? Did +she become a woman's rights woman and inveigh against man's tyranny and +woman's weak submission? Not yet. Althea was motherless, and to all +intents fatherless. She had a warm, loving nature, and there were few in +this world for her to love. She had given her first love to Thornton, +and though she had become aware that it was not the deepest love of +which her nature was susceptible she yet clung to him, shutting her eyes +to his ill-disguised defects, striving to clothe him with the graces +which she had at first supposed him to possess, and, insensibly to +himself, refining and purifying by slight degrees his selfish nature. + +Then Althea had a pleasant cottage, situated upon a grassy plain, and +embosomed in native forest trees. She had her flowers, music, books, her +day dreams and hours of inspiration, when she recited to the birds +improvisations which might have thrilled or amused a more appreciative +audience. Her naturally happy, cheerful disposition caught and reflected +but the light, and dispensed warmth and harmony upon all around. + +Althea had another grand source of happiness; it was in her one child, +Master Johnny Temple, now just passed his third year. With considerable +likeness to his father, this child possessed the hereditary beauty of +the St. Legers, with that peculiar, queenly poise of the head that had +distinguished Della Lisle. + +He was then a remarkably beautiful child, with a winning and loving +nature. To keep him nicely dressed was one of Althea's sweetest cares; +and the little fellow had such a proud air he would have been taken for +a royal prince. + +Strange would it have been had not Thornton Rush been proud of such a +wife and child. But he kept his pride and admiration shut away from +their objects. He never took the trouble to tell Althea that she was +dear to him, even if he chanced to think so; reversely he had a sullen +way of appearing to think his family a trouble and burthen. Had Althea +suddenly died some day he would have been shaken into due appreciation; +as it was, her presence was like the sunlight that flooded him +unconsciously, and to which he was so accustomed he never thought to be +grateful for it. + +You have seen a little boy with a pet dog. What a life that dog led! +Harnessed to carts, sleds, made to draw heavy loads, after his young +master, besides jerked this way and that, scolded, kicked, cuffed--what +wonder the abused animal ran away or gave up the ghost? Then the boy's +grief! His dear, precious only friend that he loved so devotedly! He +mourns, sighs, weeps, not dreaming that he has himself done his dog to +death. He is lost, having no one to love and torment. + +"I will not mind his cross words, his petulance, his spasms of anger," +constantly repeated the patient wife, but they entered her soul. "I will +disarm him with smiles and pleasant words," she every day resolved; yet +every day was she pierced anew with his arrowy verbality. "He shall have +to remember me only as a good wife and true," she said mentally, even +while her heart was ground as with a heel of iron. + +But the time was coming when Althea might not be able thus to fortify +herself. + +One August morning the family sat at breakfast. It was earlier than +usual, for Mr. Rush was to take the boat, which was to convey him the +first stages of his journey to his native Thornton Hall. Master Johnny +was already up and in his place; for he was a wide-awake fellow, bound +never to be left behind. + +"Johnny will not eat; he has not been well for several days," remarked +the mother anxiously. + +"You are always borrowing trouble. It is too early for the child to +eat," said the undisturbed father. + +"His stomach must be out of order; he threw up yesterday all he ate," +continued Althea. + +"Because you stuffed him so. You are making a glutton of him. You ought +to know he should not eat more than he can hold," replied Thornton, +amiable as usual. + +The child had put his chubby hands upon the table, and laid upon them +his curly head. + +"Look up here, sir," said his father, sharply, "what ails you?" + +The child raised his head wearily, and looked pleadingly to his mother. +She arose, about to take him in her arms, when the father interposed. + +"Let him alone. The boy is well enough. You are making a fool of him; he +will never amount to a row of pins. I am going to take him in my own +hands; he is old enough, and has been babied to death." "Shut up, I tell +you," addressing Johnny, who was now crying for his mother to take him. +"Yes, a new leaf shall be turned over just so soon as I return from +Virginia. And you are about as much of a baby as he is, Althea," whose +eyes he observed to be full of tears. "Here, another cup of coffee; you +have no thought for me--you give all your attention to that +child--there, there is the whistle now! Ten to one I shall be late, and +all your fault, forcing me to talk instead of allowing me to eat. Hand +me my valise--there, good-by and don't fret," and, rushing away, he +gave no kiss to little Johnny, whom he was never more to behold; no kiss +to Althea, whom he was indeed to meet again, to meet again and soon; but +a gulf between him and her, insurmountable as death itself. + +She turned to her child, now that there was no voice commanding, "let +him alone." She rocked him in her arms a long time after he had fallen +asleep. Her tears sparkled upon his jet curls, while her heart was heavy +as lead in her bosom. + +"Am I, then, so unlovely that my husband does not care for me? Once I +thought it was so beautiful to love, and to be loved! His love is gone; +and mine--O my God, let me not lose the last particle of love for the +one I must live with until 'death do us part.' We might be so happy, but +are so miserable! Is it my fault? My conscience is clear; it does not +accuse me. He is so unhappy, so morose; he makes us all so wretched, +when life ought to be so pleasant." + +Althea had placed her low rocker upon the verandah. A gentle breeze +stirred the vines that wreathed the pillars. The birds flew hither and +thither upon boughs that shaded her cottage. The fragrance of flowers +filled the air. + +"How beautiful is all this visible world," exclaimed she. "How full +should it be of enjoyment." "Yes, yes," chirped the birds, the breeze +and the flowers. + +She laid down her child, who still slept heavily. She gazed at him +intently, resolutely banishing unwelcome thoughts of aught that should +harm him. + +The house was in confusion, as it ever is after a hurried departure. +Althea busied herself with setting things straight. Then she sat down to +her piano, and commenced a song; but her voice trembled too much. She +changed into a favorite march, whose notes rose and fell like the +storm-tossed billows of the sea. Battles, quadrilles, waltzes dropped +from her finger-ends, as if they had been magicians, and so mingled, +dislocated and inharmonious, as to make wildest, though still musical +confusion. + +Hand-weary, but heart-lightened, she took up a book. It was a new book, +she had but half-read, "Gates Ajar." She came to the child eating her +ginger snaps in Heaven; to the musician playing favorite airs upon the +piano, to the dress-maker fashioning gossamer garments out of aerial +fabrics, etc., etc. She put by the book. + +"I do not like that kind of a Heaven. How could an authoress make a +Heaven out of the lowest part of earth? To think of eating, darning and +mending up there! We are to do in perfection there, what we most like to +do here! The drunkard then will take his glass; but he does not go to +Heaven. Wonder if the tobacco chewer enters through the pearly +gates--'nothing that defileth or maketh a lie'--ah, how beautiful and +charming Heaven must be; more than we can conceive, or she, who looked +through 'Gates Ajar,' can imagine. I do not quite like to look through +her eyes. I suppose my mother is there. How little I ever think of +her--wonder if she watches me from above; O my mother, my mother in +Heaven, have pity upon your child!" + +A noise from the adjoining room startled her. Had the cat gained +entrance to her sleeping child? She went in hurriedly; Johnny was in +spasms. + +She seized him in her arms, and ran screaming for Mary into the kitchen. +Mary ran for the physician, and the distracted mother, still holding the +convulsed child in her arms, walked up and down the verandah, shouting +for help. + +Doctors and neighbors came. All that medical skill and friendly sympathy +could suggest was done; but all in vain. When the spasm subsided, the +eye was uprolled in unconsciousness, and the face burned with the +fiercest fever. Then would come the fearful convulsion, and you would +not know the beautiful face so racked and tortured. Again the demon +would die out; but reason returned not from his relaxing hold. What a +scene was there! All had been set in order a brief while before. Now, +again, everywhere was confusion. There lay upon the floor the little +cast-off garments. The child had done with them. His rocking-horse stood +in the corner, his whip and gun near by, his box of marbles, his +countless broken toys and the sled he had never used. The last time he +had been to drive with his parents, he had seen that sled inside a +store. He insisted upon having it. + +"But there is no snow to slide upon," objected his father. + +"Johnny no slide--Johnny have 'ittle ocken (oxen) draw sled." + +So the sled was purchased, packed into the carriage, and that night +little Johnny had wished to sit up all night to admire his treasure. + +"These bufully flowers, mamma, see," pointing to the upper surface and +sides of the nosegay, facetiously termed. At length sleep overtook him, +lying under the table side by side with the gaily-painted sled, one +chubby hand grasping the forward rung. The next day the sled had lost +its charms, for Johnny was ill; and the next--alas, here was little +Johnny! We might speak of Althea's bewildered grief; but why should a +mother's hand attempt to write, or a mother desire to read what only a +mother's heart can understand, and but imperfectly express? + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII. + +HUBERT LISLE AT VINE COTTAGE. + + +It was all over, the death and burial of little Johnny. All Windsor +mourned for the beautiful child and the desolate mother. Even Mrs. +Carlton Sharp came, Mr. Rush being gone, and mingled her tears with the +bereaved. And Althea was not ungrateful. She turned not away from all +expressions of sympathy, as it pleases some to do. She knew that only +kindness was intended, and to her wounded, but still loving heart, +gentle words and deeds were as balm that is healing. + +After the first few days, however, Althea was left more alone. The women +of Windsor mostly did their own household labor, and the busy season of +the year compelled them to remain at home. Althea could fix her mind +only upon her lost darling. She collected his playthings, soiled, +broken, and all. She gathered flowers to fling above the brown earth +that hid him from her view. She wrote heart-broken verses in his memory, +and many more she poured forth in unwritten music to the winds. + +There was a certain comfort in thus being able to abandon herself to +grief and lamentation. But how would it be when her husband returned +home? What would he say to the death of his son? As was usual, would he +blame her also for this catastrophe? Or, would this affliction soften +his heart, rendering him more kind in his intercourse with herself? +Althea was revolving this in her mind, in a measure temporarily diverted +from her grief. She was sitting upon the verandah, amongst her flowers, +herself the sweetest of them all. A quick step upon the path startled +her. She arose hastily, and glanced through the vines. + +A stranger that moment caught sight of her, and came around to where she +stood. + +For an instant, he remained regarding her; then he clasped her right +hand in both of his, and pressed it softly to his lips. + +Althea, taken by surprise, was about to resent such a liberty, when the +stranger said: + +"I am your cousin, Althea, you must have heard of Hubert Lisle?" + +It was indeed, Hubert, just over from a six years' residence abroad. Had +he been Althea's own brother, she would not have welcomed him with more +profuse demonstrations of delight. + +"I learned at the hotel of your great affliction, which must be doubly +painful, your husband being absent." Hubert glanced searchingly at his +cousin's face. He had vivid remembrances of Thornton Rush, and held the +conviction, that however much he might have changed for the better, he +could be still anything but an agreeable life-companion. He discovered +nothing by his searching glance, for Althea was thinking of her child, +not of her husband; and this reference replunged her into grief. + +Hubert's sympathy was aroused, and he attempted words of consolation. +When he saw how worse than vain these were, he endeavored to withdraw +her mind, by giving vivid descriptions of and experiences in foreign +lands. + +Althea made an effort--an effort for the lack of which died Dickens' +Fanny, little Paul's mother--and listened through politeness and +courtesy. Gradually, her mind awakened to a lively interest; and before +the day was spent, she regarded her cousin as the most interesting +gentleman of her acquaintance. + +"How fortunate he should have come now, just in this time of my +distress," she whispered to herself, as she was about to retire, +stopping to weep over the little night-wrapper, whose wearer was gone, +but which still had its place beneath her pillow. She had a thought, +too, which she did not whisper, and it was this: "how fortunate too that +he should have come while Thornton is gone, that no thundercloud may +hang over us." + +Hubert had made a short visit to Kennons. Mr. Fuller was still overseer +of the plantation, which he had conducted satisfactorily. Mrs. Lisle +had, of course, returned to Thornton Hall. Amy and Chloe were installed +in their cabins of old, and had supervision of the white house. From +these faithful servants Hubert had learned the deception that had been +practiced upon his father, during that parent's close of life. At least, +he learned how letter after letter had been written, how impatiently +his arrival had been awaited, and with what bitter disappointment that +father had quitted the world, unreconciled that his son came not. + +These communicative old women unfolded to their pet young master, as +they still loved to call him, the plan that father had cherished with +regard to himself and Althea. For this also was not unknown to them. +Duncan Lisle had dropped into Amy's ear more than one hint of this kind. +He had none other to confide in; and during a sleepless night, while Amy +watched, he whiled away an hour discoursing of his son, and of the +project in view. This faithful servant had Althea's picture treasured +with jealous care. + +"You shall see it, Massa 'Ubert, an' see what you've done gone an' +lost," unrolling the precious memento from its many wrappings, as if it +had been a mummy embalmed. + +Hubert beheld "what he had lost" first with admiration, then with a +sigh. But the sigh was not for himself only; it was for what that +sweet-faced soul must suffer, under such guardianship as that of +Thornton Rush. + +Hubert Lisle at once rightly inferred the destination of those letters +which had never reached him; and he glared fiercely at the fireplace now +filled with green boughs, that had afforded flame to enwrap aught so +precious. O, cruel flames, to blot out two such privileges--giving +consolation to a dying father, and receiving from his hands a wife +little less beautiful or good than an angel! And more cruel than flame, +than direful fate, than death itself, the heart of Rusha Lisle, which +Hubert would fain have trodden into indiscriminate dust, in his first +moments of grief and wrath. + +An intense desire of revenge took possession of this outraged son; more +particularly of revenge against Thornton Rush, whose duplicity in +winning Althea was circumstantially detailed to him. + +Hubert Lisle had not only traveled extensively, but had read and studied +deeply. He had scanned all religions, from that of Confucius to +Mormonism and Free-loveism, which is _beyond_ religion, and had no +settled faith in any. He had dived into German transcendentalism and +metaphysics so deeply that he came out clogged and permeated as a fly +miraculously escaped from a jar of honey. He was naturally good and +true, simple minded and high principled; but unlicensed, untrammelled +thought, unsubjective to God's law, had rendered him liable to erect +false theories upon unsound premises, and had undermined in a measure +that nice sense of right and wrong, which had been his proud, happy +birth-right. Yet he would have been startled to have been told that he +was not now, as ever, a bold lover of the truth, that he scorned not +deception and hypocrisy and all manner of evil. He would have bounded, +as from the sting of a serpent, from open temptation to meanness and +wrong. He walked upon the border of a precipice, not knowing but he was +upon the open plain. Thus walketh human frailty, when unenlightened by +faith in God and unfortified by heavenly counsel. + +A modern "reformer," self-styled, acting as a "spiritual medium," is +said thus to have addressed a visitor: + +"It is my very strong impression that you are my affinity. You are to be +my husband; I am to be your wife. You must seek a divorce; so will I, +and happiness awaits us." + +Two divorces ensued, and the gentleman visitor and the "medium" became +one, an affinity, according to "spiritual" directions. + +Hubert Lisle would have turned his back upon such sophistry, and scorned +such a diabolical medium, how fair soever. He had not, however, been at +Vine Cottage a week, every day in the society of one whose situation so +much appealed to his sympathy and kindness, when he became conscious +that he had been taken into a high mountain, and had not strength to +say, "Get thee behind me, Satan." + +From this height was offered him a treasure worth more than kingdoms and +thrones and all the riches of the earth. Instead of shuddering and +turning back, he fixed his eye upon the glittering prize. + +"It is thine," whispered the tempter, "the hand that holds so fair a +pearl is all unworthy. It chafes and frets within the cruel grasp which +an ungleaming pebble might fill as well. It would glow in the sunlight +of your fostering care. It would enrich your soul as a priceless gem; as +an amaranthine flower it would breathe unto your heart an eternal +perfume." + +Hubert Lisle had made obeisance to feminine beauty in every land; but +his heart had remained untouched. Like his father years before, he had +arrived at the mature age of twenty-eight, unscathed by the blind god's +arrow. + +Hit at last, and so unwisely pierced! To love the wife of another! +Hubert would have scorned such an insinuation but a few days before. But +he had not then seen Althea. He loved her, was she not his cousin? He +loved her, who could resist, she was so beautiful and good? He loved +her, she was so unhappy, _must_ be unhappy as the wife of Thornton Rush. +She had been won with false words and deceitful ways and wiles. Thornton +deserved to lose what he had dishonestly gained, and what he apparently +valued so little. Had not Thornton Rush wronged and, as it were, robbed +the dead, and bitterly betrayed himself to gain possession of a jewel +which should have been his own, which he would have worn so proudly? Had +not this man been his enemy from childhood; with his mother, the curse +of his father's house? Ever in his way, a perpetual thorn in the flesh, +could he not now dislodge him root and branch, and spit him upon an +arrow, that should cease never to quiver? + +Hubert Lisle experienced qualms of conscience, debated as to right and +wrong, gave many thoughts to the censoriousness of the world, but he had +not the fear of God before his eyes. + +"I can win her if I will," was his confident thought at the first. + +"I will win her at all hazards," was his later iron purpose. + +And Althea! Oh! is it thus that the child of Ellice doth come to Della's +daughter? + +And what hath this daughter as a shield from the tempter? Came he not +unto sinless Eve in Paradise; unto her even who had seen the Eternal +Majesty, and listened to His voice? + +And Althea had not laid up her treasure in Heaven. She had not given her +wounded heart to Him who was wounded for our transgressions. She had not +poured her sorrows into the ear of the Infinite, nor laid her bleeding +hands upon the cross of Christ. + +So turned Althea from a now unloved, ungracious husband; from a bitter +sorrow for her lost child, to human love and human consolation. + +But Althea was not won so easily from her stronghold of duty. Nor would +she, on recovering from the shock of Hubert's first proposal, consent to +flee at once, putting the sea between them and Thornton Rush. Hubert +pleaded strongly and well, but could gain only this point. He would +return to Kennons, and dispose of his property and hers. She would +remain with her husband for the present. The first time he should raise +his hand against her, as he had already done, she would leave his house +and procure a divorce. With this was Hubert fain to be content; and the +day before the anticipated return of Thornton Rush, after his absence of +three weeks, he left Vine Cottage and the sad-faced lady who dwelt +therein, confident that ere many months he would have Althea as his +wife, and sweet revenge upon his old-time enemy. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV. + +JEALOUSY. + + +Naturally, Althea was a changed person in the eyes of her husband. A man +less jealously disposed might have attributed this to the sudden death +of an only beloved child. But to Thornton, the knowledge that Hubert +Lisle, a man his superior in mental, moral and personal accomplishments, +had associated with Althea during almost the whole period of his +absence, this knowledge, we say, was to Thornton as gall and wormwood. + +"And how did you like your cousin?" he questioned with assumed +carelessness. + +Had Althea answered equally carelessly, "Oh! very well," she would have +aroused suspicion, for she well understood her husband. So she said with +enthusiasm: "I liked him very much indeed. I wish you could have met +him. He is very agreeable and most intelligent." + +"You speak as if you thought I was a stranger to him. I have seen Hubert +Lisle before to-day!" + +"But you have not seen him of late. A six years residence abroad must +have changed him greatly." + +"Umph! Your cousin is not the first person who has crossed the Atlantic, +as you would have me infer. At all events, he is a sneak and a coward to +stay in my house more than two weeks, and decamp just before I was +expected." Althea was silent. + +"A sneak and a coward, I repeat; what have you to say to that?" demanded +Thornton, his eyes blazing like coals of fire. + +"Nothing," said the wife, indifferently. + +"Nothing! By Mars! do you answer _nothing_, when I ask you a civil +question? It is well he did not let me find him here; it is not the +first insult he would have got from me, and perhaps something worse. If +there's a person on earth I hate worse than Sharp, it is that +self-conceited Hubert Lisle. He is a puppy, an upstart, vain as a woman, +and deep and false as perdition itself." + +He waited as if expecting a reply. None came; he glanced sideways to his +wife, and continued: + +"Yes, you two would make a very pretty couple, very suitable. Your two +heads are forever among the stars. I wonder there is a book of poetry +left in the house. It is a marvel you both did not sail away in some +carved shell of hollow pearl, almost translucent with the light divine +_des tous deux_ within. For ottomans you could have piles of Scott, +Moore, Byron, Shelley, and Keats; and for food and drink, you could have +stringed instruments, and easel, palette, and brush. How contemptible +are womanish tastes in a man!" Again he waited vainly for a reply. The +pallid fingers of Althea were pulling in pieces a half-faded flower, +upon which her lustrous eyes were unvaryingly fastened. + +"Good heavens, Althea, how provoking you are!" cried Thornton, rising +from his seat and confronting furiously his wife, "cannot you speak to a +man; what have you to say, what are you thinking of?" + +"Thinking of?" she said absently, scattering the petals from her fair +palm to the floor, then raising her eyes full to his: "Thinking of the +fair little blossom that withered in its bloom. I have done wrong to +weep for him such bitter tears; for he was _your_ child, and had he +lived he might have cursed some woman's life as you have cursed mine." + +This was uttered apparently without anger, and in modulated tones. But +no words of Althea had ever struck Thornton Rush like these. He was +speechless; and when she arose and passed him by to an adjoining room, +he stirred not hand nor foot. If she had expected then would fall the +arranged blow, she would have been disappointed. But she had not +expected it, nor even thought about it. The faded flower had, indeed, +brought up her own withered blossom, as she had said. Had her husband's +discourse been of Johnny, instead of the senseless tirade against her +cousin, had he exhibited kindness, and generous sympathy for herself, +she might still have been won back to duty. But now, Thornton's words +and sneers, however deserved she might have felt them to be, caused her +to contrast the wretchedness of a continued life with him with what it +_might be_. Thus far she had been agitated by indecision and scruples, +they should henceforth trouble her no more. She was fully resolved, +even more than when she had promised Hubert. + +In her own room, Althea withdrew the blinds and looked out at the sky. +It was covered with clouds, save one space of blue. + +"Thus is _my_ sky covered with gloom," she murmured, "thus amidst the +darkness gleams my one ray of precious light. O blessed ultramarine, +from on high I take thee as a token. God is good; God does not will that +I should suffer; He does not will that I should love a demon. I am still +so young; a long life may be in store for me; a cruel, wretched life +with Thornton Rush, who assumed the guise of an angel of light to win me +to destruction. A peaceful, happy life with Hubert, for whom heaven +itself must have intended me. The sin is Thornton's, not mine, nor +Hubert's. On the contrary, to continue to live with Thornton would be a +sin. I can no longer deceive myself or him, I love him not; I believe I +could hate him!" and a gleam unusual shot from the large, dreamful eyes. + +Althea forgot, while she thus soliloquised, that she could not thus have +felt, or could not have spoken such words, had not Hubert Lisle won her +love. While her heart had not been given to another, she could have +endured her husband patiently, fulfilling her wifely duties, and +possessing a conscience clear before God. She would leave her husband +then, not because of the harshness and cruelty allegible, but because +she had criminally strayed from her allegiance and given her love where +she had no right to give. + +So blinded, however, was Althea, she did not perceive this. While she +was wronged, indeed, by Thornton, she was still farther wronged by +Hubert. No unkind treatment of the one could excuse her for listening, +without rebuke, to words of unlawful love from the other. They were an +insult to her good sense and virtue; and so at first had Althea esteemed +them to be. But by and by--ah, it is an old story, and the saddest, +sorriest of all stories in this life of ours; reading it, or hearing it, +one sighs that our guardian angel's wings are invisible, and that once +from out their protecting shadow, we rush headlong unto darkness and +death. + +We will not assert that Thornton felt not the death of his only son; he +was not so inhuman as to be unaffected. He would have given all his +earthly possessions to hear again that winsome voice of his child +resounding through the house. He had not realized + + "How much of hope, how much of joy, + May be buried up with an only boy!" + +until the house was darkened by the death of Johnny. The grief which he +experienced, however, affected him strangely. As we have seen, instead +of softening his selfish nature, it rendered him more morose and +censorious. It alienated, instead of binding him closer to his bereaved +wife. + +One reason was in this; that Althea had for him now no winning ways. She +made no effort at conciliation, and sought not to give or to receive +mutual sympathy. Indeed, from the period of the conversation above +recorded between husband and wife, he was like a volcano, and she like +an iceberg. As much as he was capable of loving, he loved Althea. +Desirable as had been her fortune in his eyes, he would never have +practised such a series of stratagems and self-denials, had she not +personally been of great value in his eyes. When won, and she was surely +his, he discontinued his deception, and appeared his natural self. She +became to him, as we have before said, like the pet dog to his young +master, though secretly beloved, yet ill-treated, scolded and abused. +The thought of her ever being lost to him had not occurred to his mind, +until he learned of the visit of Hubert Lisle. With him, Thornton well +knew he would suffer in comparison. That was the reason Thornton's +mother had taken such infinite and dishonorable pains in preventing his +coming to his dying father. Althea would surely prefer her cousin. + +But Thornton was at a loss what to make of Althea's present behavior. He +had at first felt a deadly jealousy of Hubert. That emotion had almost +over-shadowed his grief. But he could not learn that any communication +was kept up between the parties. No letters came to and fro. The mention +of Hubert's name caused no blush upon Althea's cheek. She spoke of him +kindly and naturally, as of a brother that was dear to her. In the +distant years, he had been convinced of Hubert's honorable nature. He +might not have changed. At all events he was gone now, and might never +return. It was more agreeable to attribute Althea's rigid coldness to a +shock of grief, rather than to a shock of hatred to himself or of +affection for another. Nevertheless, he gave her no peace nor quiet. He +became angered if she did not converse, and equally out of temper with +whatever she might say. + +Does such a man deserve a wife? Let him have a woman, then, who will +bring him to his senses--or what passes for senses--in a manner +veritably Xantippean; and not one of those tender-hearted, peace-loving +creatures who would bless some good man's heart and home. + +There are few men upon whom kindness and gentleness will not make more +or less impression; but our unprepossessing hero is of that unfavored +few. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV. + +THE AWAKENING. + + +After a few weeks, Thornton has something outside his house to engage +him. Election is approaching. Although neither Thornton nor his rival +are in the field as candidates, each has his favorite nominee to +support. The fire that Thornton has kept raging within Vine Cottage is +now transferred to hall, stump and settler's cabin. Sharp is not in the +background. His antagonist hears of him, or crosses his trail here, +there and elsewhere. He is put to his wits' end in checkmating and +circumventing him. He, at length, learns something quite astonishing. He +has returned from an extended trip to the country, supposing Sharp to be +not far in front or rear. To his chagrin he has remained all the while +in town, and been an attendant at the Catholic Mission, being held for +ten days in Windsor. + +"That is a game at which two can play, I am thinking," said Thornton, +mentally, grinding his teeth at the thought of the votes Sharp's +presence might secure among such a crowd. + +"Althea," he said, excitedly, going over to his house, "that rascally +fellow is robbing me of all the Irish votes. Get your bonnet and come +with me down to St. Mary's. I can drop on my knees and become as good an +idolater as that scoundrel of a Sharp. Who would ever have suspected him +of pursuing that dodge? But he is up to all games. Come, how long does +it take you to put on your bonnet and shawl? They say an old Jesuit is +going to preach; I think when his mission is over, I will take private +lessons of him in the art of intrigue. That is what Sharp is at, I'll be +bound. Never mind your gloves; you can be drawing those on while we are +walking along. You look like a charming little widow in black." + +The wife looked up at the husband in blank surprise at so unusual an +epithet as "charming" coming from his lips, and applied to her. But the +truth is, Thornton had done an unusual thing--taken one glass too much, +and he spoke unguardedly. He even drew Althea's little hand within his +own and through his left arm on the way to St. Mary's, instead of +striding on a few paces in advance, as was usual. Just before arriving, +he addressed Althea: + +"Now that you have come so far, do the thing up brown. Make your +prettiest courtesy to all the graven images, and particularly to that +idol toward the left corner. It will be no trouble for you to kneel; +that is always in place for a woman. Keep your eyes open and bow low to +every old lady who has a husband, or a son old enough to vote. Don't +hold your kerchief to your nose, even should you be knocked over with +the incense, and when the bell rings bow down double to the floor; ha! +it is a wife can make or break her husband's fortune for time; do you +hear, wife?" + +"Yes, I hear," softly replied Althea, more than slightly disgusted. + +They entered the church which was already crowded. But Thornton Rush +elbowed his way up the aisle till he stood not far from the altar. A +gentleman politely gave his seat to Althea, but Thornton continued to +stand, a perfect spectacle unto all beholders. He folded his arms and +glanced out savagely. The first eye he met was Sharp's. Yes, there sat +his enemy, snugly ensconced in Mr. McHugh's pew--that same Mr. McHugh +who had told him three days before, that he did not consider Sharp the +honestest man in the world! He had counted on McHugh--and now where was +he? + +Protestants who were present were quite as much surprised at seeing Mr. +Rush as were the Catholics. He had never been seen even in a +meeting-house, unless at a lecture, political caucus, or some kindred +rather than religious entertainment. Sharp was a rigid Presbyterian; but +his rival had never thought it worth his while to pretend to imitate him +in that particular. On the contrary, by keeping aloof, he found favor +with the more numerous Methodists, the few Universalists, Baptists, +Spiritualists, etc., which more or less abounded in the rapidly growing +little town. To all these he could be all things. But as to the Catholic +fold, ah, if that sharp wolf, or wolf Sharp, got in there would be +mischief astir. He must leap after, for, to a Catholic, his religion was +more than meat or drink, and he would become naturally a friend to him +who was friendly to his religion. + +Althea had but rarely been inside a Catholic church. When a child she +had been more than once to St. Patrick's, with her uncle and cousins, +during a temporary absence of her aunt. She had been partial to the +Episcopal service; but as there was no society of this sect at Windsor, +she had very often followed her husband's example of remaining at home +on Sundays; though sometimes she attended at the different +denominational houses, as inclination urged, or some stranger, man or +woman, preached. + +Upon this occasion Althea was peculiarly impressed; not so much by the +blaze of light, the brightness and perfume of flowers, nor by the +commanding attitude of the aged missioner, who stood grasping the +mission cross and about to speak. It was the sudden memory of her uncle, +John Temple, who so loved and practiced this same religion that touched +her soul. He came before her, in all his simple, unpretending honesty +and truth. Never so much, as at this moment, had she appreciated his +worth. She did, indeed, bow her head with reverence before the altar, +not in obedience to her husband's commands, but in tribute to her +uncle's memory. She had named her only child his unforgotten name, and +now the child had joined him in the spirit-world. The two came before +her like phantoms evoked. Were they, indeed, hovering around her in this +sacred place? Such was Althea's impression, and how guilty felt she +before them! Still more lowly bowed her unworthy head, and pressing her +clasped hands to her heart, she cried, "O God, be merciful to me a +sinner!" + +There was a hush in the swaying crowd, for the priest was about to +speak. He had stood during several minutes, until even the latest seemed +to have arrived; then, in the general silence of expectation, his voice +sounded clear and full and his words were: "O God, be merciful to me a +sinner!" + +Such an unexpected echo of her own unbreathed words startled Althea like +an electric shock. For a moment she raised her head, and her drooping +eyes fell upon the utterer of that broken-hearted prayer. Then upon the +clasped hands fell again the white forehead, nor was it lifted more +until after an hour or two of stirring eloquence the missioner closed +with a repetition of his opening words, "O God, be merciful to me a +sinner!" + +It had been to Althea the day, the hour of her visitation from on High. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI. + +LIGHT AFTER DARKNESS. + + +Mr. Rush was privately informed that his rival was to canvass "Stony +Creek" precinct on the following day. Accordingly he was up before +daylight, drank half a dozen raw eggs, for which he had a particular +passion, mounted his horse, and left Windsor behind, before Mr. Sharp +had opened his eyes. Before leaving, however, the politician shook his +wife by the arm; there was no need, although, for she had not slept, and +thus addressed her: + +"Althea, I am going to 'Stony Creek' that I may head that fellow. Don't +fail to attend the Mission to-day; and do, for goodness' sake, hold your +head up, and not fall fast asleep as you did last night. You acted like +a mummy. Don't know when I shall be back; you need not look for me. Have +you heard what I said? Don't forget now about turning in with the +idolaters, look at the old Jesuit, and pretend to hear what he says, if +you don't." + +Althea breathed a sigh of relief as she found herself thus unexpectedly +left alone for the day. She would surely avail herself of the +permission, command rather, to go to St. Mary's. She had not slept, nor +felt need of sleep; she had never been so wide awake; indeed, it was as +if she were just awakened from a life-long slumber. + +While still meditating upon her pillow, the six o'clock bell rang; this +reminded her that Mass had been appointed for that hour. She would go. +She dressed hurriedly, and proceeding to the kitchen, told Mary, who was +a Catholic, that she might postpone breakfast, and come with her to +Mass. Mary looked up with a pleased surprise and cheerful "Yes ma'am," +and was soon in readiness. + +Althea understood nothing whatever of the ceremony of the Mass; nor, on +this morning, did she seek to understand it. It was not for this purpose +she had come to St. Mary's. It was to feel again a sense of that strange +nearness to her uncle and her child; to feel again near to Heaven and to +God. And, though her conscience had been painfully aroused, though she +felt keenly a thousand stings and reproaches, which would probably but +be renewed and heightened by this repeated visit, she would not have +remained away, not though her dearest wishes could have been realized in +an hour. + +Althea remained absorbed in deep thought and reflection through the +first, second, and third Mass; the quiet intervals were all the same to +her. She was heedless of those who came in or who went out, as well as +of those who knelt around the confessionals, except now and then to +wonder, as she chanced to meet some tearful eye, if the world held +another heart so lonely, desolate, hopeless as her own. + +Hopeless? She recalled the day when she had beheld the space of blue in +the sky--the hole in the day, Pug-on-a-kesheik, thus termed by her +Chippewa friends--which she had taken as a token that her love for +Hubert was no sin. She recalled the momentary joy that had animated her +as she, in imagination, clasped that love to her heart, as a gain for +her loss, as a balm for her bitter sorrow. She remembered how she had +even dropped upon her knees in thankfulness to heaven for having given +her such a comfort in the midst of her grief. Should _she_ have scruples +when ministers of God had lifted up holy hands and sanctified such +unions? Thus had her first sense of horror been blunted, and blushless +become her keen, womanly shame. + +Why then, with a sense of the presence of the glorified spirits of her +uncle and child, assumed that caressed infatuation, that which she had +deemed a higher, nobler love, proportions of gigantic horror? Why had +she spat out as gall and wormwood the sweet morsel she had rolled under +her tongue? Why, giving up her only joy, trampling down with all her +strength and might the one hope of her existence, had she returned to +this strange house, wherein she could but beat her breast and cry out +"unworthy, unworthy"? Was she the first woman who had mistaken dross for +gold; and, finding her error, might not she, like others, fling it aside +for the shining ore that lay in her path? Should her hand still grasp +the piercing thorn, when the rose bloomed temptingly before her? + +Thus listened Althea to human sophistry, until God spoke to her through +the lips of the Jesuit priest. And he said, slowly and solemnly, +grasping in his right hand the emblem of our religion: + +"And unto the married I command, yet not I, but the Lord, let not the +wife depart from her husband. But if she separate, let her remain +unmarried, or be reconciled to her husband; and let not the husband put +away his wife." + +Had these words come down from the heavens in tones of thunder they +could not have produced upon Althea a more stunning effect. Was she here +to recognize the hand of God? Had _He_ inspired this priest to speak +upon a subject that was thrilling her with pain, doubt, and fear? + +A masterly discourse followed upon the indissolubility of the marriage +tie. "Shall it be insisted upon then, do you say," toward the close of +his impassioned words, "that a woman shall suffer insult, effects of +drunkenness, abuse of all kinds? This is hard, indeed, but there is +something worse than that; for a suffering wife to break the law of God, +and marry another husband! For, whether is it not better to suffer than +to sin? Wherefore came our blessed Lord upon earth, but to save us from +the effects of our transgressions? He laid down his life that we might +live. He suffered that we might rejoice. But He suffered not the death +of the Cross that we might enjoy to the utmost the pleasures of _this_ +life. He endured not the bloody sweat, the scourgings, scoffs, +revilings, and all the attendancies of betrayal, trial, and crucifixion, +that, with impunity, we might set at defiance His divine law, and live +in open rebellion to the Christian rule He came to establish. God +Almighty help us, if we expect to get to heaven in any other way than by +the Cross of Christ! Think of it! The Cross of Christ! Can you associate +with those words, so dear, so sublime, to every Catholic heart, aught of +this world's ease, or luxury, or happiness? How many thousands saintly +souls have flung aside all that the world could offer sweet and +beautiful to embrace this hard, this cruel Cross! And meet they no +reward? Hard Cross and cruel to eyes not comprehending, because separate +from transitory joys, but yielding balm and incense sweeter and more as +most closely pressed to the heart. And woman, first at the sepulchre, +first in every good word and work, is it not _her_ glory to suffer for +the Cross of Christ? How much has she of His spirit, who cannot bear +without rising anger one unkind word or provoking act? Who gives taunt +for taunt, and blow for blow? Who disregards His express commands, +availing herself of the civil law of divorce, which she knows to be at +open variance with 'Let not the wife separate from her husband: but if +she separate, let her remain unmarried, or else let her be reconciled +unto her husband!' + +"What is termed in Jurisprudence the common law, falls sometimes heavily +in individual cases; but for that reason would we do away with it +altogether? The law of the indissoluble tie of marriage does, we admit, +fall heavily upon some, yea, many lives; should we, therefore, infer +God's dictation to be erring, and practice the human law opposing His +own? Supposing in some instances, a life to be made happier, even +better; would that compensate for the abolishment of a law upon which +rests the general happiness of domestic society--nay, upon which rests +society itself? Better that few should suffer than that anarchy prevail. +Better that all should understand the marriage bond to be indissoluble +but by death, that it may be assumed carefully and solemnly as a +life-affair of the utmost moment, and not entered into with thoughtless +levity as a bargain that may be broken to-morrow. In a life-journey so +intimate, patience, forbearance, meekness, long-suffering are requisite. +These are Christian virtues which will render any yoke easy and every +burden light. No Christian nation should legalize divorce. No true +Christian will avail himself of the law of divorce. In the eye of every +Christian man or woman, whosoever is married to him or her that 'has +been put away' is one of whom it is said, 'they shall never enter the +Kingdom of Heaven.' Be not deceived. Even though those called and +calling themselves ministers of God blaspheme Heaven by professing to +bless such unhallowed unions, they are of the spirit of darkness, and +lead unto moral death. + +"Were there but this life, the case would be different. You could live +and be merry, because to-morrow you die. It is upon this principle the +divorce law has obtained. The world and Christianity are at variance. +The one offers you comfort and ease, the other a continual conflict with +the flesh and the devil. In the end, the world's votary shall vainly beg +for a drop of water to cool the parched tongue; while the Christian +warrior, having lain aside buckler and shield, reposes under the green +palms of victory and peace in the Kingdom of Infinite Love." + +The noble follower of St. Loyola might reasonably find fault with the +above, as a citation of his words. But they so glowed and sparkled that +they could be caught only in fragments and snatches; imperfect as they +are, we trust they convey an idea of what was impressed upon the mind of +Althea when the Jesuit closed--"in the name of the Father, and of the +Son and of the Holy Ghost." + +Althea was stricken--not blind as was the persecutor of the +Christians--but with a steady lightning-flash of light that was +intensely distressing. It discovered to her her heart full of sin and +shame. It betrayed the slippery sands upon which her feet were treading. +It revealed the gulf into which she had been about to plunge. Upon such +a flood of light she could not close her eyes. She reflected that Paul +had cried, "Lord, what wouldst thou have me to do," and he had been sent +to Ananias, the priest, "who would tell him what he was to do." She did +not stop to marvel why the Lord had not Himself told him what to do +directly, but instinctively did what Paul did, obeyed instructions and +sought the priest. + +It was now nearly noon. Althea had been sleepless, and had not tasted +food since the preceding evening. She looked around for Mary, that she +might accompany her to the priest's house, where she rightly supposed +the Missioner to have taken up his abode. She saw not Mary, who had gone +home before the sermon, supposing that as her mistress had had no +breakfast, she must stand in need of dinner. Instead of Mary, Althea +beheld Kitty Brett, one of Mary's comrades, whom she had often seen at +her house. + +Kitty Brett had one of the sunniest faces in the world; and it smiled +all over with willingness as Althea made her request. O yes, she would +go right over with her, and, if she wished, would introduce her to +Father Ryan, the parish priest, whom she would at first be likely to +see. Moreover, her mistress had gone to the country with her children, +so she had nothing to prevent her remaining during the little time Mrs. +Rush might wish to prolong her visit. + +Father Ryan evinced no surprise, however much he might have felt, on +meeting this unaccustomed visitor. Althea was in a state for no +preambles and no delays. She at once inquired if she could be permitted +an interview with the Missioner. + +The priest hesitated for a moment. Had she been a Catholic, he would +have put her off until after the laborer of the morning had been +refreshed. Reflecting, he withdrew, and very soon after, invited her +into another room, where she found herself alone with the true priest of +God. + +Oh! Althea, thy mother, who gave thee to God at the first moment of thy +existence, and at the last of hers, who had aspirations for the truth +which God may have regarded, must have wept tears of joy, and called +upon the angels of Heaven to rejoice over her daughter that repented. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII. + +ALTHEA'S TRIALS. + + +Althea's conversion from error to truth, from premeditated crime, though +she was criminal almost unconsciously, to firm amendment, was one of +those miracles in which even Protestantism believes. Such Althea +considered it--a direct interposition of Providence. She recognized, +with peculiar awe, the hand of Almighty God, and became as a little +child, willing to be led whithersoever He would. + +It was natural she should turn to the bosom of that Church, before whose +altar she had seen her own soul as in a mirror, and whose anointed +priest seemed to have been chosen of God for her awakening and +instruction. + +A few years earlier, she might have had prejudices to overcome; though +slight, for one brought up an Episcopalian. That her uncle lived and +died a good and true Catholic, and that her embittered aunt had embraced +and become greatly attached to the true Church, had insensibly +recommended it to her confidence. At first, she deemed herself unworthy +to enter the fold. She had broken, in thought, one of its stringent +laws. What she had come to regard as but a venial error, now appeared to +her as an unpardonable sin. So unpardonable, indeed, that left to +herself, she might have despaired of forgiveness, and returned to it +cherishingly, seven times worse than before. But this aged Missioner, +wise and experienced, knew well how to guide this untried soul. She was +not the first, by hundreds and thousands, who had knelt to him for +direction. He well understood the malady, and like a skillful physician, +knew what remedies to apply. + +In a week, at the close of the Mission, Althea was ready for baptism. +She had her catechism by heart, and was pretty well grounded in +instruction. She had faith which would remove mountains, a confident +hope in Jesus, and a willing heart and hand for Christian action. She +stumbled not over Transubstantiation, nor Confession, nor any of the +Seven Sacraments. She embraced them with a loving heart and a simple +faith, not questioning but they were of God, since they were in His own +Church. + +Whispers and winks were on the increase among Protestants. To secure an +election according to his own ideas, Mr. Rush had placed his wife where +she had made her own calling and election sure. This fact was slow in +dawning upon him, but when it had fairly caught his vision, it shone +with the effulgence of the sun. His friends had no pity for him. He had +placed his wife in the fire; what could he expect but that she would be +burned? It did not alter the case that Mrs. Sharp had been also in the +fire, but came out unconsumed. She was made of sterner stuff. Stubble +would burn, but rocks were incombustible. + +Althea anticipated a storm; but she braved it, and asked Thornton's +consent to her baptism. She might as well have asked the mountain to +come down and be bathed in the sea. He was fierce as the whirlwind, +unrelenting as death. His words of scorn and anger poured down like a +water-spout, but unlike this element of destruction, his fury became not +spent. + +He forbade her attendance at the closing exercises of the Mission, or +any further discourse with the Jesuit. Of this Jesuit, he had jocosely +asserted he was going to take lessons in the art of intrigue. He deemed +the lesson had been given without his seeking, and it was no less +galling from his secret conviction that it was all his own fault. + +Had his wife asked his permission to join either of the other sects, he +would have answered her with an indifferent laugh and sneer. _That_ +would have been of no consequence. She could have been a Methodist, or a +Universalist, anything but a Catholic! Like a Pagan Diocletian, he would +have gathered all Catholics together, and thrown them to wild beasts. +The coming election had lost for him its interest. It had cost him dear. +Everything might go to Sharp and the dogs; one thing was certain--his +wife should not become a Catholic. He remained steadily at Vine Cottage, +a Cerberus to guard his domain. The Missioner would leave Windsor on the +morrow. Althea wrote him a brief note, which she sent by Mary, asking +him what she should do. + +His reply was this verbal message: "Wait--and trust in God!" Mary +delivered this faithfully, and added: + +"He said, ma'am, to tell you that he would never forget to pray for you +at every Mass he should say." + +"God will hear _his_ prayer," was Althea's thought, and she was +comforted. + +The very spirit of evil seemed to have taken possession of Mr. Rush. He +was more and more resolved to have entirely annihilated every trace of +the new faith in his wife. For this purpose he sent far and near, until +he had literally the proverbial "house full of ministers." His wife was +under exhortation first from one, then from another, every hour in the +day. + +First the Presbyterian, then the Methodist, the Baptist, even the +Spiritualist expounded and sermonized upon the several beauties of the +Protestant faith. Their principal ammunition, however, was expended in +besieging, battering and anathematizing the Catholic Church. + +Every minister had a book for her to read, at home in his library, which +he would bring her, the reading of which would prove convincingly +conclusive. One had Fox, one Hogan, another Kirwan and Maria Monk, and +still another the multitudinous tomes of Julia McNair Wright. As to +Edith O'Gorman--no need to allude to this lately arisen bright +particular star, in whose flood of light, the black sun of Catholicism +was going down. Mary Stuart was not more tortured by Elizabeth's +emissaries, than was Althea by these clever ministers. But the ill-fated +Queen, nursed from childhood in the faith, was not more unwaveringly +firm than was this six-days' neophyte. + +With this array of ministers, however, was not her greatest trial. They +might deem her stupid, obstinate, blind, and infatuated, but they were +at least gentlemanly and polite. She could reply to them as she thought +best, without danger of having her head taken off. She was even glad of +their presence as they went and came again, because, while they talked, +her husband was for the most part silent. + +And when he demanded that one or other should receive her into his +church, he was in turn offended at them, because they insisted that the +lady's consent was necessary. When the subject was given over, and +everyone had departed finally to his own house, then Althea's true +martyrdom commenced. + +"You have become a believer in Purgatory, and your faith shall spring +from actual knowledge; for as long as you live I will make this house to +you a purgatory," declared the enraged husband, furiously. And he kept +his word. But the good God, omnipotent on earth as in heaven, had said: +"Thus far shalt thou go, but no farther." + +Althea would have remained quiet and resigned, never mentioning the +subject of her faith, but this Thornton would not permit. He would talk +of it incessantly. To Althea it finally became a fire-brand, which, +constantly waving to and fro before her eyes, threatened to turn her +brain to madness. + +She became dangerously ill. A severe fever had set in, to break up which +baffled the physician's skill, when too late he was called. Thornton +had persisted in not believing her sick, and had taken his own time for +calling in Dr. Hardy. + +Kitty Brett, finding a girl to take her own place, offered her services, +which were accepted, as personal attendant upon Althea. As the +unfortunate lady grew rapidly worse, Mrs. Moffat was engaged as head +nurse. + +This Mrs. Moffat was by many regarded as the salt that saved Windsor. +Windsor would have gone to destruction long ago, physically, but for the +saving help of Mrs. Moffat's hands. True, she was a married woman, and, +like the martyr, was followed by "nine small children, and one at the +breast," but this never prevented her lending a helping hand to any and +every applicant. She could be absent from home a week at a time. The +children could stir up their flour and water, and bake their hard cakes. +They could lie down at night wherever they chanced to give up and fall, +and arise with the morning's sun, ready dressed. Falling down cellar--it +was a trap-door--other people's children would have broken their necks, +but these little Moffats, after turning two or three somersaults, +reached the bottom standing upright. They nursed themselves through +mumps, measles, whooping cough, and all kindred diseases by playing in +the creek; so that Dr. Hardy had serious thoughts of recommending +"creek-playing" as a specific in such cases. They were hearty, hardy +little fellows, all boys but the eldest, and cared nothing more for +their mother's brief visits, after they had had their scramble for the +_bon-bons_ with which she was in the habit of regaling them. + +Mrs. Moffat was, indeed, a most valuable attendant upon the sick. Unlike +most people, she was in her element when in a sick-room. She could +accommodate herself to every situation and emergency. If things and +people did not go to suit her she could go to suit them. There was no +grating, no friction where Mrs. Moffat was; her very presence was +_oily_, so to say. She could lift people heavier than herself; there +appeared no limit to her powers of endurance. She could watch night and +day without the least detriment to her nerves. She could taste the most +nauseous potions, and submit to most disgusting odors, nor make the +least wry face about it. If she found a patient not very sick she would +sit down and pour forth a gossipy stream of talk for an hour, when, ten +to one, every ailment would be forgotten. There was a charm in her tone, +word, and manner that affected like magic. Of course, this woman had a +drunken husband--such women always have that affliction. There were +those, even in Windsor, who said they did not blame Mr. Moffat for +taking to drink--if _their_ wives were always from home, and the house +forever topsy-turvey, and the children making pyramids of themselves +like a pile of ants, they should take to drinking too. But nobody could +wait on these very people when sick but Mrs. Moffat. + +Althea was sure of the best attention while Mrs. Moffat waited on her; +and this capable person scarcely left her bedside. Kitty Brett was _her_ +right hand, as she herself was Althea's. Kitty was kept upon a steady +march, here, there, and everywhere; and she was as willing as was her +superior. She could not do enough for one who had been persecuted for +the faith. + +The master of the house kept a steady watch over all. His argus-eye was +ever on the alert lest, despite his vigilance, the Catholic priest +should be smuggled into the house. + +Althea was constantly delirious, and it was feared she might die without +having recovered her reason. The crisis approached, and Dr. Hardy +watched her silently for many hours. He had done his utmost, and though +he hoped faintly he feared the worst. Mrs. Moffat's whispered loquacity +was awed into silence. Kitty wept silently at the foot of the bed, +praying fervently as she wept. Thornton had walked to and fro in his +slippers, his long hands crossed upon each other behind his back, +casting out occasionally fierce glances from his cavernous brows. He +came and stood, like a thundercloud, by the Doctor's side. + +"Any change?" he whispered. + +The doctor shook his head. + +"What do you think, any chance?" + +The doctor looked at his watch, which he had been holding in his hand. +"Yes, while she breathes there's a chance, I suppose," replied the +doctor, without looking up, but changing uneasily his position. + +"Well, I have an awful headache; I will lie down in the next room; if +she is worse, you can call me," and the cloud disappeared. + +Althea had been some time sleeping quietly, neither articulating nor +moaning. Dr. Hardy watched her as only doctors watch their patients. It +was more to him than a question of life and death--it was somewhat like +the alchemist, trembling with hope and fear over his costly dissolvents. + +At length, Althea's eyes opened, glanced hastily around and closed +again. Dr. Hardy was not surprised. For the last half hour he had been +expecting this, but he had given no sign. When her eyes again opened, he +put some drops to her lips, which she readily swallowed. By-and-bye she +gave a look of thorough consciousness, accompanied with an effort to +speak. + +Again, in an hour, she looked earnestly at Dr. Hardy, and moved her +lips. He bent low to listen, and only himself caught her words: "Send +for the priest." + +Dr. Hardy frowned. Was this old anxiety going yet to ruin all? Couldn't +she die or live without the priest? + +"You are going to get well now," he whispered in reply. + +"Send for Father Ryan, for God's sake," she again repeated, so forcibly +that Kitty caught the words. + +"I will go for him," she said eagerly, but the doctor interfered. + +"No, I will see Mr. Rush;" for the anger of that man and his future +hostility was not a pleasing prospective to the easy-going doctor, ever +ready to propitiate. + +Mr. Rush was like a lion, aroused from his sleep, in which he had found +temporary oblivion of a torturing headache. + +The doctor's words were not audible in the sick room, but Kitty +distinctly heard the reply of Thornton Rush: + +"I tell you I don't care. I don't believe it will make the least +difference. If she has a mind to worry, let her worry; I won't have a +Catholic priest in the house. I'll have the devil first. If she is going +to live, she will live, anyhow. I have never thought she would die yet. +For God's sake, let me alone, and don't waken me again, no matter what +happens." + +The doctor returned with lugubrious visage. But Kitty's was radiant. + +She was seized with a thought or an inspiration, and she whispered: + +"I will take all the blame upon myself; he cannot more than kill me. It +is a good time--he has left orders to be let alone. The priest can come +and go before he knows it," and she darted out without another word. + +The doctor and Mrs. Moffat looked smilingly across at each other in the +faint lamp-light, but neither made a movement for Kitty's detention. As +the faithful girl had said, "the priest came and went" before the master +knew anything about it. And Althea, having passed through her earthly +purgatory, and now hovering, as she thought, upon the borders of death, +had been baptized by water into newness of life, and been strengthened +by that heavenly food, which is more and diviner than the bread of +angels. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII. + +MYSTERIOUS DISAPPEARANCE. + + +Althea was very weak, but continued slowly to recover. Several days +elapsed, during which time Thornton's pain in the head had been upon the +increase, and other alarming symptoms had been developed. These were +intensely strengthened by the imprudence of a meddlesome neighbor. + +Curtis Coe was Windsor's merchant tailor. He may have been more than the +ninth part of a man in some respects; but when, under pretence of a +friendly call, he informed Thornton Rush, already very sick, that the +priest, Father Ryan, had baptized Althea--we say, when he did this +intentionally and with malice aforethought, and with a sinful love of +tale-bearing, and with utter recklessness as to consequences, he proved +himself infinitely less, even than ordinary tailors of the proverbial +size. He deserved the punishment of being hissed by his own goose. + +The effect of this ill-advised news upon Thornton can be better imagined +than described. What increased it ten-fold was the man's utter impotence +to resent or punish what had been done. His ravings were fearful, his +imprecations multiplied. Vain were the doctor's warnings that his anger +would aggravate his disease. He continued to rave until he became +unconscious of the words he uttered. To all in the house it was a relief +when this man passed into unconscious delirium. One can listen to insane +blasphemies with sorrow and pity; but only with horror and disgust to +revilings, and railings sanely spoken. + +On that night which followed Curtis Coe's wicked impertinence, two men +sat up with the sick man. They must both have fallen asleep at one and +the same time, for they discovered on coming to their senses, that +Thornton Rush was nowhere to be found. The lamp was burning, even the +fire in the stove had not died out. Having searched the room, they gave +the alarm, and thoroughly searched the house, then all the outhouses, +and finally the town. + +All classes, friend and foe, were aroused. A general panic prevailed. +Each one considered himself in danger, while Thornton Rush, as a +lunatic, was at large. Posters were sent abroad and telegrams announced +the mysterious disappearance to neighboring villages and cities. The +river was dragged, old cellars and wells were dived into. + +Windsor had at length a mystery, and it was an appalling one. People +began to canvass it in whisper. A suspicion began to be bruited around. +We do not affirm that Mrs. Moffat originated this suspicion, but she +whispered it about from house to house. It was to this strange effect, +the Catholics had formed a league and spirited away this enemy of their +faith. Kitty Brett had boldly set his words at defiance, and the priest +had boldly entered the house he had been forbidden, and baptized and +anointed, and practiced what other witcheries he had no business. + +If Kitty would do this much, and if Father Ryan would do that much, why, +what was there they would _not_ do? + +This view of the case accounted for the wise solemnity prevailing among +the Catholics generally. They were observed to purse up their mouths, +and shake their heads; and one old patriarch had been heard to say that +the Evil One had got his own. Why should he say that, if he did not know +something about it? + +It became another Morgan affair. Women began to turn off Catholic +servant girls. There was a strong talk of discharging every Irishman +from the Mills and Railroad. A continual espionage upon the movements of +the Catholics was kept up. Traps were laid for self-committal. Bribes +were offered and promises of security to any who would turn State's +evidence. Threats were made here and there that leading Catholics should +be arrested; at all events, the ringleader should be made to suffer. All +seemed to settle down upon that Father Ryan must necessarily have been +the aider and abettor, if not the suggestor, in such a high-handed +proceeding. It mattered not, that during his five years' stay at +Windsor, he had lived peaceably and orderly, and set a good example. All +that served but a cloak to just such deeds as this kidnapping of a +respectable citizen. + +This whirlwind of talk, however, amounted to nothing more. The Catholic +population was getting stronger every day; it was surprising how many +new families kept pouring in. So it happened no one dared lay hands on +Father Ryan. + +Autumn passed into winter, and winter merged into spring, still no trace +had been discovered of the missing man. + +Althea had entirely recovered the health and bloom of youth. She was +never more beautiful than now, at the still early age of twenty-two. She +had mourned for her husband only as for a soul that was lost. She +believed he must have perished in some strange way, and her daily prayer +was that the manner of his death might some time be brought to light. +The good God had snatched herself from the verge of the grave. He had +said unto her, through his servant, "wait, and trust in God," and God +had delivered her out of her troubles. She lived alone at Vine Cottage, +the faithful Kitty her servant and companion. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX. + +HUBERT'S SECOND VISIT. + + +In June, the month of roses, came Hubert Lisle to visit Althea. He came +thus early in her presumed widowhood, to woo her for his wife. But she +would not hear one word of love from his lips. She had studied her +religion, and found that its laws forbade marriage with another until +abundant proof had been obtained of the death of her husband. So far, +she had but proof presumptive. He had disappeared at such a time and in +such a state as, to most minds, forbade even a possibility that he +should have continued to exist. Again, the Catholic rule forbade the +marriage of cousins. + +Hubert urged to this that they were not strictly cousins. His father and +her mother were but half-brother and sister. + +Again, the Catholic Church did not forbid, but strongly discountenanced +the marriage of a Catholic with a Protestant. She, Althea, loved her +Church so well, she would not do that which the Church disapproved. + +These were three great obstacles in the way then, to his marriage with +Althea, Hubert found. He began to think he had now a more formidable +opponent in the Church than he had had in Thornton Rush. He had +succeeded in winning from Althea a promise to sue for a divorce. The +rest would be easy. But he found it impossible, with all his eloquence, +to prevail upon her to take one step contrary even to the wish of this +more tyrannical guardian. He even went to the priest. He had seen Father +Ryan at Mass, for, of course, he accompanied his cousin. He judged from +his open, honest face that it would be an easy matter to win him over to +his views. He entered upon the subject confidently, but ended very much +discomfited. Father Ryan would listen to but one point, which was that +Althea was not at liberty to entertain thoughts of marriage until +conclusive proof was obtained of her husband's death. Hubert reverting +to the other points--"All that comes afterward," was all the priest +would say. + +"But, supposing nothing more is ever heard of Thornton Rush, which is +almost certain, is Althea to live a widow to the end of her days?" +questioned Hubert incredulously. + +"Yes," replied the priest. "And allow me to intimate," he continued +gently, "that, entertaining the dispositions you do, it is improper you +should remain a guest at Vine Cottage. As a cousin you were privileged, +perhaps, according to your Protestant views, but as you are a suitor, it +is quite different." + +Having politely listened to these words of the priest, he wisely made up +his mind to take his leave, before he should hear them reiterated from +the lips of Althea. + +"Well, cousin," presenting himself before her, on returning from the +priest's, "I have had the courage, or the impudence, to consult Father +Ryan; he is as inexorable as yourself. It is astonishing with what an +iron will this Catholic faith infuses people. Last fall you promised to +marry me, although a thousand difficulties were to be overcome. Now, +that you are your own mistress, according to every human probability, +and you are at perfect liberty, free from any scruples about the right +and wrong of the thing, and yet--and yet how strange! You have scruples +more binding a hundred fold. And Father Ryan, the gentlest, quietest +person, whom you would not believe could say _no_, whom I made sure I +could prevail upon to intercede for me, is just as resolute as Napoleon, +as unyielding as Draco. What does it mean? Is it in the religion or +what?" + +"I believe, Hubert, it is the love of God in the heart. We love God +better than the world, or aught the world can offer. We love God so +well, that we fear to break His holy law," replied Althea. + +"But others love God too, who are not Catholics, but they are not so +inexorably bound." + +"They have not the restraints of the Church. They have not its laws to +govern them, its teachings to instruct, its pastors to guide and direct. +Moreover, they cannot expect heavenly graces in abundance who are out of +the true Church. Christ's promise of assistance is to His Church, His +anathema against those who will not hear it." + +"It looks to me as though you had taken upon yourself a yoke, and the +bonds of servitude," Hubert remarked disconsolately. + +"The bonds of the dear Lord Jesus, yes," and Althea's countenance glowed +with enthusiasm. + +"But Christian bonds should not press so heavily. Protestants in all +these things do as they please, yet they profess to be bound with the +same fetters." + +"Profess! what use in professing when every day they burst them asunder +as would they gossamer threads? I assure you, Hubert, that is one of the +beauties of the Catholic Church. Its laws are so binding, its teachings +so direct, its discipline so perfect, that one cannot stray away +blindly. The obedient child who would be pained not to do the Father's +will is kept in the straight and narrow way, the light is held steadily +before his eyes; if he stumble or turn aside he is brought back, and if +he become restive and the 'fetters,' grateful to the loving child, bind +too galling he throws them off, more willing to be lost than bear +self-denial for the present. For myself, Hubert, I have started for +heaven, confident of arriving if I follow the path marked out for me. If +I do not follow in that path I have no hope but of straying far from +that desired haven, the happy land of souls." + +"Althea, I believe you have never loved me," suddenly exclaimed Hubert, +steadily regarding his cousin. + +"That is a cruel assertion, and it wounds me more than you can think," +returned the lady, deeply moved. "Would I could forget that I ever loved +you! The memory recalls my sin, my shame, and, thank God, my +repentance. I deserve that you should recall all this to me, but I pray +you, if you have regard for me, never to refer to this again." + +"Forgive me, Althea, I did not intend thus to pain you. You are right +and I am wrong. While regretting, I honor you the more for the noble +stand you have taken. I go, Althea, and should I ever come again, you +shall behold me worthier, God willing. I shall think of you as resting +under the very shadow of heaven, and no ill, I am sure, will betide you. +Farewell, and God will help you." + + + + +CHAPTER XXX. + +"AND THE SEA SHALL GIVE UP ITS DEAD." + + +The summer at Windsor was an unprecedently hot one. No rain in July, no +rain in August, and September's sun was shining fiercely down upon +parched earth, dried up rivers, panting animals, and complaining men. +There would be no wheat, no corn; potatoes were dwarfed, and vegetables +literally dried and hardened. Grass would be light, and cattle would be +starved, if not first choked with thirst. The heavens were as brass, the +fiery atmosphere like that of a furnace. Was there about to be a general +conflagration, "when the earth and the heavens should be rolled together +as a scroll?" + +The great Mississippi was never so low. Inquiring urchins made +explorations up and down the dried banks with all the enthusiasm of +explorers of the Nile. Even the women of Windsor proposed a bold feat. +This was none other than in a body to ford the Mississippi. It would be +something worth telling of, when, after some flood, the river should +widen to the space of a mile. + +Accordingly, old calico wrappers were brought into requisition, and a +small army of women stood upon the shores. You might have thought from +the voices of fear, hesitation, reproach, and encouragement, another Red +Sea was before them, and behind them a Pharaoh's host. All the women of +Windsor were not engaged in this expedition. Some were milking cows, and +some were putting dear little children to sleep; some were preparing +late suppers for dilatory husbands, and not a few were gathered together +in knots, discussing the impropriety and scandal of such a bold +proceeding. + +Our heroine at Vine Cottage, entirely unaware of the movement, was +enjoying the twilight in playing soft airs upon the piano. + +To one uninformed, a pow-wow of Indians might have been supposed to be +going on. There were shrieks and wails, and screams of laughter, and +cries of terror. There were threatenings, scoldings, and coaxings. Were +all the grammars in the world made up of interjections they could +scarcely have contained the list that rent the air, between the two +Mississippi shores, upon that eventful night. The heavens were still +above, though they might have been supposed to have disappeared +entirely, so loudly and fervently were they invoked. + +"Why, it is enough to raise the dead," exclaimed a solitary traveler, a +stranger in town, perambulating a neighboring bluff. + +As the vociferating army neared the opposite shore, there was a +momentary silence; that breathless silence which precedes the storm. +Then uprose such a terrific scream, such a commingled shout of horror, +as only frightened women can give vent to. This brought men, women and +children in throngs to the scene. Some leaped into boats, some walked in +to the rescue. The majority awaited ashore the unfolding of events. + +Mrs. Sharp had caught her foot in something as she was about to ascend +the opposite bank. In attempting to save herself, she fell with her +hands upon the soggy substance that had intercepted her. She was a +thorough-going woman, and determined to ascertain what lay like a log in +her path, the water scarcely covering it. She prevailed upon two or +three to assist her in dragging it upward partially to the dim +light--when lo! within a saturated, slimy bed-comforter was a human +form! It was brought across to Windsor, officials summoned, and, despite +decomposition and fearful change, recognized to be the remains of +Thornton Rush! There was great sensation, and a faint revival of +whispers about his having been spirited away to his death by Popish +emissaries; but these soon died, for want of breath, as the Irishman +would say. + +The death of Mr. Rush was, by the majority, accounted for naturally. In +his delirium he had strayed he knew not whither. He had grasped the +heavy quilt tightly around him, which, held firmer in the clasp of the +dead, had filled with water, and prevented the body from rising. + +It seemed unaccountable that when the river was dragged it should not +have been discovered: are not mysteries, however, every day transpiring +before our eyes, about which we marvel in vain? + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI. + +CONCLUSION. + + +To-day, Althea is the happy wife of Hubert Lisle and the honored +mistress of Kennons, which is bright and beautiful again with sweet +woman's presence. + +Two obstacles to the union of Hubert and Althea had disappeared. She had +been proved to be matrimonially free, and he had become, from study and +conviction, a full believer in her faith, of which he made open +profession. The fact that they were cousins still remained. As there +were considerable delays in the consummation of the marriage, it was +doubtless owing to the smoothing away of this difficulty. And as both +parties hold the Holy Father in most grateful and loving remembrance, +and their most cherished design is to make him a visit at his prison in +the Vatican, it is probable that a dispensation from Rome severed the +last link of obstruction, and permitted Father Ryan, willingly at last, +to tie the Gordion Knot. + +Arriving at Kennons, Althea, of course, paid her respects to Mrs. Lisle +at Thornton Hall. She found her in a deplorable situation. A seated +cancer upon the face was eating away her life, as it had already +destroyed every vestige of her former beauty. + +She had great difficulty in prevailing upon servants to attend her. She +was so irritable and so offensive that even money could not purchase +aid. + +And what did Althea? Sacrificed every ill-feeling, overcame repulsion, +put up with taunts and cross words, and waited on Thornton Rush's mother +as if she had been her own. And this in the happy beginning of her +wedded life with Hubert Lisle. And what reward had she? None in this +life, save the consciousness of having struggled to overcome nature, to +render good for evil, and to perform that loving charity which our +Saviour commended in the Samaritan, and ever inculcates in His Church. + +Notwithstanding Althea's patient, persistent efforts, Rusha Lisle, +having hardened her heart, died in her sins. + +To Althea, who stood above her dying bed, she whispered hoarsely: + +"You have done all this for the sake of my property. I understood all. +You will find out I wasn't fooled up to the last. You couldn't cheat me +with your quiet, gentle ways; ha! ha!" and the wretched woman went out +in the night of death, comprehending not the sweet, Christian life of +such as Althea, but believing all natures dark and cruel as her own. It +was from her own she drew her judgment of another. + +She had bequeathed all her property to an idle cousin, whom it will but +accelerate in his downward course of idleness and dissipation. + +Arrangements had all been made for a visit to Europe, and particularly +to Rome, as soon as possible after Mrs. Lisle's death. Here, again, was +a disappointment. + +Letters were received from Turkey, from the hand of Althea's father. He +had lost his second wife, Emily Dean. He was about to sail for America, +and should bring his two youngest children, little girls, aged +respectively six and eight, whom he hoped Althea would make room for in +her new home. He was unable to embark as soon as was intended, and +arrived six weeks later than was designed. + +Philip St. Leger, then, arrived once more at Kennons. His hair was +silvery white. He was firm, erect, and still very fine looking. It was a +sad place, however, for the Missionary, who began to feel the world to +be receding from his grasp. + +He talked with Hubert, somewhat at length, upon the subject of his +religion. To Althea he made no allusion concerning it. He, doubtless, +judged her to have become as infatuated, and "wedded to her idols" as he +had found to be his sister, Juliet. He could not help from perceiving, +blind as he was, that there was a very great change for the better in +this same sister, whose folly and levity he well remembered. + +He soon returned to Turkey, accompanied by a third wife. This time, Mrs. +St. Leger was not a pupil from the famous seminary. Philip had acquired +wisdom, perhaps, with time, and was glad to take a maiden lady of forty +acknowledged years, who was a most amiable, warm-hearted woman by the +name of Snow, Lucy being her first name. Success to Philip and his bride +as they sail across the seas, nearing that grand sea that rolls around +all the world! Their own disappointments have met Hubert and Althea. But +these have no power to disturb their patience and serenity. They have +established schools for the whites and the blacks on their estate, and +are teaching the doctrines and practices of the new Faith. + +The cars run through Flat Rock. This point has become quite a town, and +a small Catholic church tells by its cross and altar that the true faith +hath found its way thither. To this church come Hubert and Althea, +Sundays and holidays. Maria and Frances, Althea's young sisters, come +with them; for it was only upon this condition that Hubert would receive +them. That Philip St. Leger should have consented to this, proves that a +change has come over him since a score of years. Kitty Brett is Althea's +faithful attendant. She chose to leave all her friends, rather than be +separated from the woman whose life she had helped to save. + +Amy and Chloe, old cronies, as they term themselves, look bright and +young again, along with Kennon's rejuvenation. They hold long discourses +over their pipes and snuff about the past and present, their deepest +regret being that Master Duncan could not have lived to see this +realization of his dearest wishes. + +Every Sunday they go and sprinkle his grave and that of Ellice with holy +water. They kneel by the cross which Hubert and Althea have planted, +and, folding piously their homely hands, thank God for the return of the +one, the gift of the other, and for the Cross, and the Light, and the +Crown they have brought with them to dear old Kennons. + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HUBERT'S WIFE*** + + +******* This file should be named 21949.txt or 21949.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/1/9/4/21949 + + + +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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